The Princess of Celle: (Georgian Series) by Jean Plaidy Read Free Book Online Page B

dressed him for the ball he knew that he had been wise to hand over everything to Ernest Augustus. Freedom was worth anything.
    It was a splendid ball and he was received effusively by the Princess.
    ‘My dear, dear Duke!’ she cried, holding out both hands to welcome him. ‘What a pleasure this is! We are almost related now. You were indeed a wicked one to refuse my niece. You look astonished. Did you not know that the Duchess Sophia is my niece?’
    ‘It is impossible. I had thought you might be sisters.’
    ‘Now you would flatter me. Or has marriage aged dear Sophia so much? I hear she has two splendid boys! How happy the dear Bishop must be! And you … oh no, you are a born bachelor and still determined to remain one. I hope you are not contemplating a short stay in Breda. We are two Germans, remember. After all, I am only French by marriage. But you will meet some delightful people … delightful …’
    She was ready to greet the next guest and he passed on. Suchenchanting women! He danced; he flattered; and it was like a hundred other balls he had attended until he found Eléonore.
    She was tall and her dark hair, which was very abundant, was piled high on her head, although one curl was allowed to fall over her shoulder; she had a dazzling complexion and sparkling dark eyes; and George was struck by her air of dignity, which was rare in one so young, and of modesty which was even more rare.
    She spoke German as a foreigner speaks it and he knew from her accent that she was French.
    The Princess had presented him to her.
    ‘Take care of my little demoiselle d’honneur, ’ she said, ‘and she will see that you are well cared for as it is your first visit to us and we want it to be the forerunner of many.’
    Perhaps she was being a little mischievous. Perhaps she was thinking of his reputation for indulging in amorous intrigue, and Eléonore’s for virtue; but she as well as these two were astonished at what happened that night.
    They danced together and they talked. Those who knew George William well would have been surprised, for his manner had changed. Into his voice there had come a gentleness which had never been there before. There was a complete absense of innuendo in his remarks; he was not planning the quickest route to the desired goal. Not that she did not delight him; she did, as he had never been so enchanted; but from the first moment of their meeting this was an adventure such as he had never indulged in before. He took her to an alcove lightly secluded by foliage where he said they could talk in comfort. He wanted to know why she was in Breda, how long she had been there, how long she intended to remain, what had brought her there.
    ‘I was at the Court of France,’ she said, ‘but we are Hugue nots.’
    ‘Exiled then?’ he asked.
    She nodded.
    ‘And you long to return?’
    ‘Not as things are. It would not be wise.’
    ‘So you live here in the Princess’s household.’
    ‘She has been so good to us.’
    ‘To you … and others?’
    ‘To my family. My father and my sister Angelique.’
    ‘They should have called you Angelique,’ he told her. ‘It would have suited you. Though I prefer your name. But perhaps any name which was yours would become beautiful simply for that reason.’
    ‘You like to pay compliments.’
    ‘And you to receive – although I know you must grow weary of them.’
    ‘I like best the truth,’ she said.
    ‘Perhaps I may meet your father and sister.’
    ‘I am sure they would be delighted. My father is Alexandre d’Esmiers, Marquis d’Olbreuse.’
    ‘Do you think he would be pleased to receive me?’
    ‘He is always delighted to receive friends of the Princesse de Tarente. She has been so good to us. To have many friends helps to soothe the … mal du pays .’
    ‘And you suffer from that?’
    ‘A little. Though perhaps not so much as my father. It is easier to leave your home when you are young. I think he often dreams of Poitou. He would love