Prince Charming in Disguise

Bronwyn Scott

Prince George and Caroline of Ansbach, 1704

He might be the future King of England, but Prince George seeks a marriage that’s more than a mere political alliance. Masquerading as a lowly nobleman, George heads to the court of Ansbach to woo the renowned beauty, Caroline!

Caroline has no knowledge that he’s the most sought-after bachelor in Europe. But however much she’s charmed by the mysterious gentleman, her duty is to accept a blue-blooded proposal… Still, she cannot deny she’s wickedly tempted by his red-hot proposition!

A brief guide to players and terms:

King Frederick of Prussia: previously the Elector of Brandenberg before becoming King of Prussia in 1701, he is the official guardian of Caroline of Ansbach. His court is in Berlin. He is married to Sophia-Charlotte, Caroline’s greatest mentor.

Queen Sophia-Charlotte: previously the Electress of Brandenberg before becoming queen. Married to Frederick, she is mentor and substitute mother to Caroline. She took on responsibility for Caroline when Caroline was eleven. Queen Charlotte’s court of intellectuals gathers at Lutzenberg Palace just outside Berlin. Her husband spared no expense for the creation of this gathering place.

Sophia, Dowager Electress of Hanover: related to all the relevant players in this story. She is the granddaughter of James I. After Queen Anne, she is the closest Protestant claimant to the English throne, hence the succession through her line to George I and II. She is mother to Sophia-Charlotte and to the Elector of Hanover (George I) and grandmother to George Augustus (George II). She is well acquainted with Caroline, and is the first to suggest George marry Caroline, although she is not involved in any of the actual planning.

The Elector of Hanover: later to become King George I, father to George II.

William of Ansbach: the Margrave of Ansbach and brother to Caroline. William and Caroline were both children of John of Ansbach from his second marriage.

The Duke of Celle: George Augustus’s maternal grandfather.

Margrave: a title that dates back to medieval times and is given to a governor (usually military) or lord of a border province in Germany. It is also used as a ‘hereditary title’ for certain princes in the Holy Roman Empire. In the case of William of Ansbach, the title is hereditary. He became margrave after the death of his father and his older stepbrother.

Elector: a member of the German electoral college in charge of electing the emperor of the Holy Roman Empire (previously known as the Roman king). Very early in the organization of the Germanic tribes, the position of elector was indeed elected from the tribes. However, by the days of George I the position had become hereditary and was passed from father to son. Heirs to the electors were called electoral princes. By all accounts the title ‘elector’ was highly respected and came with great power. An elector outranks a margrave, in case anyone was wondering.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Author Note

About the Author

Chapter One

Herrenhausen Palace, Hanover, Germany, autumn 1704

Kings, even future kings, could be a lot of things but not refused. Yet it seemed Hedwig Sophia, the Dowager Duchess of Holstein-Gottorp, had done just that.

‘She has declined a proposal from the future King of England?’ a flare of characteristic temper mingled with disbelief in young Prince George’s voice, his dismay evident in the slouch of his posture as he collapsed inelegantly into a chair. Not all of his dismay was over the refusal. Most of it was over having come from the delectable Lady Marie-Thérèse’s warm and accommodating bed.

One thought kept running through his head: He’d given up a bout of morning lovemaking for this? Who did the duchess think she was to refuse him? He had excellent prospects these days. It wasn’t merely his own arrogance that suggested such a conclusion, it was empirically true. He’d always been assured of succeeding his father as the Elector of Hanover, but now his prospects were settled far beyond that, his future ascension to the British throne assured thanks to Queen Anne.

Aging and wanting to ensure there would be no more Catholics on the English throne, Queen Anne had decreed the throne would pass to George’s grandmother, Sophia, the Dowager Electress of Hanover, by right of her being James I’s granddaughter and a Protestant. After her, the throne would go to his father and eventually to him.

He was a king-in-waiting, and while he waited, his wife would have the privilege of being called the Princess of Wales, the first one to bear that title in two hundred years. That alone would be an honour, to say nothing of the title his wife would bear later: queen consort.

It would have been enough for any number of the eager women in the Hanover Court. He didn’t exactly lack for female companionship in or out of the bedchamber.

Yet it apparently wasn’t enough for the Dowager Duchess of Holstein-Gottorp. George fished in the pocket of his waistcoat for a miniature he carried of her. He’d stopped by his chambers for it on a last-minute whim when he’d received the summons. He knew the envoy from the duchess was here. He’d been expecting good news. It had seemed a nice touch to have her picture on him at the moment of acceptance. It would make a romantic gesture to pull out the miniature, an intimate detail for the envoy to convey back to the dowager duchess about George’s reaction upon hearing the glorious news.

To his mind, the decision was au fait accompli. Not only was Hedwig Sophia a dowager duchess, she was the daughter of Charles IX of Sweden, a princess in her own right. She of all people knew the power of what marriage to him offered.

When he’d arrived at his father’s study, the envoy had gone. His father had looked at him with steady eyes and delivered the news. She had declined the match.

‘Who does she think she’ll get better than me?’ George groused, spearing his father with a hard look. Usually he and his father disagreed on most points. But on this, they’d been fairly aligned. His father’s own unhappiness in marriage had spurred a desire to see his son’s marriage better settled.

George gave the cased miniature a flip and studied the portrait inside. The dowager duchess was pretty enough with her dark hair and dark eyes. Both features upheld her reputation for intelligence. She’d already born one son before her husband had seen fit to die, freeing her of what was rumoured to have been an unhappy marriage to which she had not freely consented.

By no means was he in love with her. Love before marriage had no real place in a political alliance, and usually didn’t have a place afterwards. But he was certain she would have been a credit to him and, in turn, he believed in his own arrogance that marriage to a young, attractive man like himself would have been far less of a nuisance than her prior husband.

George’s father shrugged a shoulder. ‘I would not perceive her refusal as a personal criticism. The envoy mentioned there are other contenders for her hand. From the way he spoke of them, I do not think she means to marry again, not you or anyone else. She’s too busy enjoying herself with a young noble at the Swedish court. But it’s unlikely she means to marry him either.’

Well, so be it. George shut the miniature with a forceful click. As with many things in his life, he was most concerned with events from his point of view. He was nearly twenty-five, and the heir to Great Britain part aside, he needed a wife, preferably one that he liked at least a little. Ideally, one that he liked a lot. It would have surprised his father to know the thoughts running through his son’s mind at the moment. He might have grown up knowing the expectations of a political marriage but that didn’t stop him from acquiring expectations of his own. Surely, some affection, some mutual regard, was possible.

George stood and tugged at his waistcoat, pulling himself together. What was done was done. Hedwig Sophia had refused. ‘I thank you for informing me, Father. It’s time to move forward from this and start thinking afresh about who might suit.’ He gave his father a short bow and exited.

The prospect of returning to Marie-Thérèse had diminished in light of the news. He wanted to be alone, to think about what had happened and what he’d do next. A walk in the gardens would help clear his mind and re-establish a sense of clarity. He was level-headed enough to understand this: his disappointment over the refusal stemmed from the obstacle it created, not from any fond affection. He’d never met the dowager duchess. All he knew of her was contained in reports from diplomats and the small miniature. He was merely disappointed that his goal of marriage had been thwarted.

Having embraced the idea of marrying, George was set on seeing it accomplished with his usual dogged determination. Once he’d committed to a concept, he was seldom swayed from his course whether it was the wisest or not.

George stopped by a fountain to watch the rhythmic trickle of water into the basin. Soon it would be winter and the fountain would freeze until spring. Not unlike his marital expectations, he thought wryly. It would take at least the winter to search out another alliance.

He threw back his head and laughed at his own impatience. It was something of a revelation to him that, future king or not, he was no different from other men of his age, full of the fires and passions of youth. From the lowest farmer to the most powerful ruler, every man had an empire to rule and that empire was the one he created himself—his family.

It seemed unfair that when he rode through the Hanover villages he saw men younger than he, with far fewer prospects than his, with pretty young wives waiting for them at home and chubby round-faced children to toss in the air while he had riches to command, titles to offer and yet he had no wife.

George threw a small pebble into the basin. He would make a new start tomorrow. He would commission a miniature or two of himself. He knew himself to be not unattractive with his fair hair and square-jawed features. People often said the strong set of his chin hinted at the strength of character beneath. He was of a middling height, although some said ‘short,’ but that was a matter of opinion. He preferred ‘middling.’ But what his stature might lack, the youthful physicality of his body supplied, a fact to which the courtly ladies of Hanover could well attest. Perhaps he’d hire a portraitist as well. The miniaturist would show off his face but he secretly thought in vainer moments his legs were one of his best features with their supple calves, muscled from hunting and horses.

Having a plan soothed his disappointment and he headed back into the palace. His bride was out there, somewhere, he just had to find her. In the meantime there were ladies waiting or ladies-in-waiting, if one preferred.

The Elector of Hanover drummed his long fingers atop the desk. George had taken the news much better than he’d expected. He was just as disappointed with the news as George. In his opinion, the duchess was precisely what George needed in a wife—a young woman with intelligence who would long be at his side, helping him govern with a borrowed intelligence George’s directness lacked. But there would be others to choose from. But who would be best?

His thoughts sifted through conversations and letters he’d exchanged with his mother, the dowager electress, over the past few years. There was one name his mother was fond of interjecting into matrimonial discussions. If only he could remember. Ah, yes, Caroline of Ansbach, if he recalled correctly.

There was a moment of elation at remembering the name. Then he recalled why he’d not seriously pursued the offering in the first place. Caroline’s brother was the Margrave of Ansbach. She had no significant dowry and no family connections to make up for the lack of personal wealth. In fact, she’d been orphaned at the age of eleven. If it hadn’t been for her late mother’s friendship with the Electress of Brandenburg, Caroline might have faded into ignominy.

Therein lay Caroline’s one redeeming asset. The elector remembered now. The Electress of Brandenburg had become the Queen of Prussia three years ago, making Caroline the official ward of King Frederick, a mighty connection indeed. Well, the elector thought with a private smile, if you were only going to have one political connection, it might as well be that one. It was time to revisit the Caroline question.

Chapter Two

The Court of the King of Prussia at Berlin, late November 1704

‘Is that your final answer?’ Frederick, King of Prussia, speared the young woman in front of him with a dark gaze. She held his stare, menacing though it was. He was her guardian, and in the ten years she’d been his ward, his dark eyes and long face had been nothing but friendly. Today that was not the case. Barely disguised anger and disappointment seethed below the surface of his countenance. It took no small amount of courage to offer her response.

‘Yes.’ Caroline fought the urge to glance down at her hands but that would be a show of weakness as she uttered the last. ‘I do not wish to marry the King of Spain.’

Caroline sat alone with the king and queen in a private receiving room set aside for the royal family. Frederick rose to pace, giving full vent to his spleen. ‘The archduke is heir to the King of Spain—he will be the next Holy Roman Emperor.’

‘Titular.’ Caroline managed her objection in a single word.

Frederick rounded on her. ‘Titular? What in the name of all that is holy does “titular” mean?’

‘He is the titular King of Spain. It is a probability that is not as ironclad as they’ve been represented,’ Caroline argued.

‘Is that the only reason you refuse?’ Frederick all but growled.

Caroline swallowed and sighed. They all knew it wasn’t the true reason for refusal. The archduke’s suit had been pressed since the summer in full force. Charles was considered by most of the royal world an ‘amiable prince’ and he’d courted her earnestly, even sending his own priest, Urban, to answer her theological questions. The visits with Urban had left Caroline in tears, however, and had not solidified Charles’s claim for her hand.

‘He is a Catholic and I am not, nor will I be,’ Caroline said resolutely.

Frederick shot his wife a hard look. ‘Who should I blame for this interference? This smells of a Hanover plot to prevent the marriage.’ By ‘Hanover plot’ he meant the queen’s mother, the Dowager Electress Sophia, a powerful, opinionated woman.

Caroline shook her head vigorously. ‘The plot is all mine. I will not convert.’ It was true that her friend, the philosopher Leibniz, who acted as factotum for the Hanover Court, had helped draft her official letter of refusal. But the decision was all hers, based on the convictions she’d shaped after years of being with Sophia-Charlotte at her intellectual court in Lutzenburg.

‘Not for all the riches Charles offers? I know you to be an ambitious girl, Caroline,’ Frederick coaxed, softening just a little. ‘A marriage with Charles would fulfil that ambition.’

She heard the unspoken message: marriage to Charles was far beyond what a girl of her background aspired to. Caroline was well aware the princesses of Ansbach had a history of marrying minor lords or other local gentry and fading into the family tree unrecognised. To be the Queen of Spain far exceeded the achievements of her house to date.

It was not her ambitions alone that would be fulfilled. She heard the other unspoken message as well: ‘After all we’ve done for you, will you not do this one thing for us?’ But she could not relent.

‘I am sorry, I cannot,’ Caroline said simply. ‘I have only one soul.’ It would not be possible to love a man who did not respect her faith. Without that, marriage to Charles would be an empty alliance, an absolute betrayal of herself, no matter how amiable he was reputed to be.

It did not take long for Caroline to realise the king would not forgive her for what he saw as her stubborn and foolish decision. In his anger, Frederick was inclined to make staying in Berlin miserable. Caroline understood his disappointments but could not agree with him. He staunchly believed that princesses did what they were told, and if that meant converting, they converted. It was the axiom by which he ruled his own daughters. Princesses were to be flexible and adaptable. She had proven to be neither.

If this period of difficulty had taught her one thing, it was that she must face the prospect of marriage in the near future. There were those who claimed her a beauty; Charles of Spain had certainly thought so. He’d been ardent in his pursuit of her but he’d never truly thought of her intellect, nor had he truly believed she’d have the learning to resist the persuasions of his priest. That last assumption had upset her greatly. In theory, she’d understood at an early age the nature of political marriages, the idea that she was a prize to be won.

In practice, she’d not quite understood what that meant until recently. Perhaps she’d believed her lack of dowry would protect her from the game of royal alliances. That had proven to be a mistake. The King of Prussia’s ward would not escape notice.

Being a prize did not settle well with her. She was more than a beautiful spoil of politics. She’d been given a great gift of education at Lutzenburg where Sophia-Charlotte had allowed her to sit in on debates even at a young age. She did not harbor misguided romantic expectations about marriage, but she did hope to be a partner to her husband, to enjoy his respect and admiration. In turn, she hoped to visit the same affections on her husband.

Charles of Spain was only one prospect. She was twenty-one now, of perfectly marriageable age. There would be others and soon. She knew Sophia-Charlotte had long harboured desires of a marriage to her son Frederick William. Nothing had come of those desires yet. Caroline was not particularly fond of Frederick. It worried her that in the wake of refusing Charles, the king and queen would re-examine the potential of marrying their son. There would be no refusing another future king a second time.

Her once very certain world was now full of uncertainty.

By December, Caroline had come to the conclusion that remaining in Berlin would take the decision to marry out of her hands. With a sad farewell to Sophia-Charlotte, Caroline packed her travelling trunks and set out for her childhood home in Ansbach. At Ansbach, she’d have her doting brother’s protections. She silently vowed she would marry the first interesting Protestant man who came along.

Chapter Three

Herrenhausen Palace, Hanover, spring 1705

It was with great excitement that George answered his father’s summons on a warm spring morning. The leaves were green, the sky was blue, early flowers were blooming in a profusion of colours throughout the Herrenhausen gardens. Spring was in the air and in his veins. George could nearly feel it thrumming in his very pulse. He was acutely aware of being a man in his prime and the vigour of youth coursed through him fast, hard and hopeful, and not without reason.

With the coming of spring and the thawing of the ground had come the thawing of his matrimonial hopes, which had predictably frozen with the roads. Winter made courier runs irregular at best. At least his hopes had frozen on a high note, giving him something to sustain him through the long winter. His grandmother, the dowager electress, had put forth a name as a prospective bride and a glowing description of the young woman’s virtues. Caroline of Ansbach. George had never met her but thoughts of her lovely attributes had kept his mind and heart much occupied through the cold German nights. Now it was time to see what would become of those hopes.

His father barely waited until they were alone in the grand office of Herrenhausen Palace before he said the words George had waited the winter to hear. ‘I think it’s time to go to Ansbach.’

‘Perhaps I might take grandmother’s ring,’ George ventured hastily. He’d long imagined how this meeting might play out. This would be an honest courtship between two people. In this matter, he would represent himself. He would see her and judge her on his own. She would be able to do likewise. It would be an enormous compliment to her that he wanted her to judge him on his merits, not the merits described in letters from political dignitaries.

For this courtship, there would be no more diplomatic intermediaries, no more letters written between negotiators in far-off lands, as it had been with Hedwig Sophia. This would be a true wooing. He’d come to the conclusion over the winter that his bride must suit him before she suited his kingdom. He didn’t want only a queen. It would be years before he inherited the throne but a wife would be with him always.

His father made a sharp wave of his hand. ‘No, do not take a ring or anything that marks you as the Prince of Hanover. I think you must go incognito. You have never met her and it would be best not to declare yourself until you’re certain the two of you will suit.’ The elector counselled caution.

His father laid out the case for disguise. ‘I think it will lessen the chance of a mésalliance.’ George heard years of regret behind those words. His father’s marriage had been fraught with constant interpersonal strife which had led to abject abandonment and numerous infidelities that perhaps could have been avoided if his parents hadn’t been so ill-suited. What had looked like a solid alliance on paper had not borne out in reality.

Still, in his enthusiasm to finally be doing something at last after a winter of inactivity, George countered readily with the optimism of youth. ‘I understand your hesitation, Father. I assure you, I’ll act with prudence and not rush to a hasty conclusion.’

His father shook his head. ‘It is more than that. You are a man full grown. You will know your own mind. It’s not your mind that worries me. It is the minds of Spain and Prussia I’m concerned about.’ His father dropped his voice. ‘If the King of Prussia hears we’re courting his ward he will move decisively to block the marriage.’

Something primal and competitive stirred in George’s blood. This was not going to be a mere courtship; it was to be a challenge. The idea’s appeal was growing by the moment.

He’d never shied away from an adventure but first there were questions. ‘From whom do you get this news? I thought grandmother mentioned the princess had refused the King of Spain?’ His father was not by nature a grand political strategist. George knew his father to be like himself—straightforward and oftentimes blunt, expecting others to see things in a similarly direct manner. Nuances and consequences often escaped his father simply because he didn’t contemplate them.

‘From the prime minister,’ his father disclosed.

George nodded. Count Platen could be trusted to know such a thing. ‘What does he think of the match?’

‘He does not object, but he is emphatically neutral about it.’ His father shrugged as if the prime minister’s lack of exuberant approval did not bother him.

‘And grandmother? Surely she will sway Count Platen to raptures of ecstasy over it.’ In his conversations with his grandmother, George knew her to be exceedingly supportive of the match. She would be a superior ally in this matter.

But his father’s response surprised him. It was quick and curt. ‘Your grandmother is not to be told. We cannot risk anyone getting wind of this before anything is settled. I would not want to stir the King of Prussia’s irritation without reason if the girl is not to your liking.’

George nodded. There was wisdom in that. Grandmother was a gossip. Discretion would be the watchword for his campaign. Once or if things progressed to a certain degree, there would be little the King of Prussia could do about it. ‘Then it is settled. I will go in secret to win my princess.’

The more George thought about it, the more appealing the idea became. The medieval romance of it intrigued him. It would be in part a rescue to save his Protestant princess from the clutches of the Catholic king. But mostly, it would be an adventure—a prince in disguise off to seek out a woman capable of honest love.

The very stuff of legends.

Exactly what he wanted.

The intensity of that want had caught him unawares. Slowly, George closed the lid of his travelling trunk, letting the realization sweep over him. He stared out the long windows of his chambers into the gardens contemplating what it meant.

He absolutely did not want Caroline swayed by the enormity of his future prospects. He wanted her to love the man, not the future king. He wanted her to be different from the myriad women who traipsed through his bedchamber awaiting the pleasure of his royal prick so that he might give them something in return. Not that that was the only reason women came to him. After all, he was reasonably assured he had some skill in the bedchamber that had nothing to be with being a king.

When had he become so incredibly bored with the routine exchange of sex for favours? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t understood the game. He simply wanted something different, something more than a sex-based negotiation between the sheets.

Well, he’d find out soon enough. They were set to depart that night. For all his thoughts about this being a princely quest for the virtue of love, he had no illusions about the fairy-tale nature of his journey. He hoped Caroline was likeable. He hoped he would be able to see potential for genuine regard as they weathered the years together. He was not expecting love at first sight, only the hope that affection might grow from mutual appreciation of each other as real individuals, not merely titles. Still, from where he stood, that was hoping for quite a lot.

By midnight, all was ready after months of careful planning. As spring had hurtled towards June an elaborate ruse had unfolded to protect the prince’s identity. George knew it well. He would travel as a Hanoverian noble who had gone to Nuremberg with plans to meet friends. But since his friends had not arrived and Nuremberg was not to his liking, he’d decided to venture on to Ansbach. To make the plan authentic, George would travel with only one other companion and his valet. They would all travel under aliases. George would be Monsieur de Busch. His companion, the privy councillor von Eltz, would be Baron von Stede.

George and his companions mounted their horses, making quick farewells to the small party gathered in the palace courtyard and set out on his bride-quest. The goal was before him. He was determined to succeed on this adventure, come hell or high water or even the King of Spain himself.

Chapter Four

Ansbach, June 1705

‘I’ll say this much for him, Charles is most persistent,’ William Frederick, current Margrave of Ansbach, said with a laugh. He patted his sister’s hand where it lay tucked in his arm as they strolled the tree-lined hofgarten. Caroline appreciated his attempt at levity and favoured him with a smile. It felt good to be out of doors after the dismal winter. It was a warm, beautiful day; the lime trees lining the promenade perfumed the air with the faint scent of their fruits. She was determined to enjoy it in spite of her growing predicament.

‘I did not expect him to try again. I thought my refusal was most definite.’ Caroline shook her head in disbelief. It had been a shock to them both when the last letter from Charles’s advisors had found its way to Ansbach. It was a strong reminder that she could not escape her woes entirely. If she did not marry Charles, she’d have to marry someone else just to escape him. She was beginning to think Charles would not give up until she was wed to him or to another.

‘Perhaps we should have understood how the situation would look from his perspective,’ her brother suggested gently, obliquely veiling his reference to the death of Caroline’s dear friend, the Queen of Prussia, in January.

It had been a horrible blow to her and she’d grieved the winter away, so much so that she knew William had feared for her own health.

‘I see Charles’s thoughts plainly. Instead of letting me mourn my friend in peace, he believes her death has changed my situation. He’s committed to capitalising on what he thinks must surely be my reduced circumstance,’ Caroline said with no little feeling. She was still appalled that Charles would use such an advantage to push his suit. ‘If he could see things from my perspective, he would know such manoeuvrings does not raise him in my estimation. Instead he looks like an ill-mannered boor.’

William laughed. ‘And all the while he’s back in Spain thinking he’s put on quite a show of devotion, hoping, no doubt, to persuade you with the tenacity of his sentiments.’

Caroline smiled. There was a great deal of humour in William’s observation. The very image of the great Archduke Charles pacing his quarters and worrying over how to best convince her of his heartfelt regard brought a bubble of laughter to her lips. ‘It’s amazing men and women ever get married at all with such different opinions about how to woo the other.’

‘Don’t worry, you’ll find someone,’ her brother reassured her. ‘Just because Charles presses his suit is no reason for you to rethink your decision. You’re welcome here for as long as you like.’

It was a brave statement. She was grateful her brother had been willing to open the family home to her even though it meant sheltering someone who’d displeased the King of Prussia. Caroline was conscious of overstaying her welcome and putting her brother in real political jeopardy. The King of Prussia was a powerful enemy when one was only the margrave of a petty principality.

‘I will never forget your kindness to me, William.’

‘That’s what brothers are for, my dear. But enough of this talk—the day is meant to be enjoyed.’

They had not gone far when a page caught up to them, excited and breathless. ‘There’s a visitor, Your Highness.’

Caroline felt a moment’s trepidation. They were not expecting anyone. She exchanged a worried look with her brother. Had Charles made good on his offer to send his priest again after she’d politely but firmly written there was no need? Or worse, had the King of Prussia sent one of his minions to press the case?

‘He says he and his travelling companion are noblemen from Hanover,’ the page offered between gasps. ‘He has letters of introduction from the prime minister in Hanover.’

Caroline felt the growing knot in her stomach unravel and ease. It wasn’t Charles, then, or Frederick. Frederick was not favouring Hanover presently. She knew he blamed his mother in-law, the dowager electress, for inspiring her rejection of Charles’s proposal.

By the time she and William arrived to greet the newcomers, Caroline’s trepidation had been replaced by excitement. Unexpected guests brought a certain spark of spontaneity to the quiet life at Castle Ansbach. While she was appreciative of William’s hospitality, Ansbach could not compete with the glittering society found at the Prussian king’s court in Berlin or the intellectual circle of Lutzenburg.

The guests did not disappoint—a Baron von Stede and a Monsieur de Busch. Both were mannerly and well-dressed, but it was Monsieur de Busch that held Caroline’s attention. His friendly brown eyes were warm and set amidst the clean, square features of his face. If one was observant, one would note his eyes were more than friendly. They carried a hint of the daredevil, a characteristic that begged for further enquiry. Caroline had to admit she was intrigued by the adventurous sparkle she saw there when he looked her way.

But what she liked most was the strong straight length of his nose, which drew the eye and fastened one’s gaze on the whole of his visage. He was clearly a young man of some means if not position. His coat was of a celery brocade with gold trimmings accompanied by an elaborately embroidered waistcoat beneath. And yet, he was not so ostentatious as to be foppish. The gold watch chain he wore tastefully sported a single fob, Caroline noted with approval as they all moved out to the castle’s private courtyard for refreshment.

Caroline quickly arranged to have cool drinks served, pleased to also note that Monsieur de Busch and his companion were easy conversationalists. Monsieur de Busch had them laughing in no time. ‘For fear of sounding as if I’m angling for an invitation to dinner,’ he began, ‘I must say I’ve heard of the striking art in the dining room and would very much like to take a look at it.’

William chuckled. ‘Stay for dinner, please. Stay for the night or for a few nights if it suits your plans. My sister and I live quietly here and I daresay you’ll liven things up for her.’ William tossed her a quick wink. ‘She’ll never admit it, but my court is much subdued compared to the courts she comes from. I fear she grows bored but is too polite to say it.’

Monsieur de Busch fixed his gaze on her; the daredevil spark flickered knowingly. ‘Perhaps I could persuade you to offer me a tour of the castle?’

Caroline found herself smiling. A handsome man was always a welcome novelty.

She was positively enchanting! George ushered her ahead of him into the dining chamber of the palace, manfully noting the gentle sway of hips as she passed. Grandmother had not exaggerated the beauty of Caroline. Her hair shone like spun gold in the sunbeam-lit dining room; her blue eyes were pleasantly expressive when she spoke, to say nothing of her figure, which by any account was all a man could desire. Right now he was having a deuce of a time keeping his mind and eyes on the crystal chandeliers of the dining room while she talked. He’d much rather look at her.

‘There’s also the minstrel gallery.’ She made an elegant gesture towards the little balcony that presided over one end of the room. ‘On special occasions, musicians entertain our guests during supper.’

‘And tonight, mademoiselle? Will tonight be special enough to warrant minstrels?’ George ventured a light bit of flirtation.

She smiled, blushed becomingly and lowered her pretty blue eyes. George thought the gesture was out of a sense of good breeding rather than any genuine shyness. Good. He didn’t want a timid wife. ‘Perhaps my brother might be convinced to have a small party. It’s not often we get such entertaining guests.’

Ah, he would take that as a small token of her approval. It was a promising start. She was moving again down the length of the room to a doorway and George surreptitiously followed the light sway of her movements.

‘This is the porcelain saloon,’ she said, stepping inside a room off the dining area. ‘This is where all the margraves keep their collections of china.’

‘Lovely, absolutely lovely,’ George murmured, his eyes politely on the porcelain.

The tour led them back out into the cloistered courtyard, where, to George’s delight, the conversation turned more personal. It gave him an excuse to look at her and note everything about her—the excellent fit of her gown, the tasteful pale blue cameo she wore at her neck, the small pearls at her ears, all of it.

‘What brings you to Ansbach?’ Caroline asked after she’d shown him the west façade.

Personal interest is good, George thought, and he launched into his prepared story. ‘Baron von Stede and I were to meet friends in Nuremberg. They are journeying on to Italy and we thought a reunion of sorts would be in good order.’ Here, he paused and shook his head. ‘But we must have missed them. We waited a few days in Nuremberg but to no avail.’ He paused here and leaned forward conspiratorially with a wink. ‘Perhaps we should have waited longer, but between you and me, I did not find the city appealing. We decided to come on to Ansbach before heading home.’

She smiled at his light confession and held his gaze with a mischievous look of her own. ‘Between you and me, I must confess I am very glad you did.’

Chapter Five

Caroline dressed carefully for supper that evening. The meal was to be an entertaining affair. She’d coaxed her brother into bringing in some local musicians to fill the gallery and had sent a hastily modified menu to the kitchens to accommodate their guests. Everything was in ready for a lovely evening except herself.

It was silly, really, this indecisiveness over which gown to wear. Their guests were two unanticipated noblemen. She was acting like they were visitors of state. But she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit Monsieur de Busch raised a few flutters in her stomach. They’d spent the afternoon walking the grounds and talking as if they were old friends. Not once had the conversation lagged between them as it often did between strangers. Monsieur de Busch was charming as well as good-looking and they’d laughed together. The feel of her arm linked through his was natural, as if it belonged there, as if she belonged there. By the time she’d departed to make the arrangements for supper, she felt she’d known him far longer than the space of an afternoon.

That was why she was having trouble dressing for supper. She wanted to look her best. Caroline discarded the fifth gown on her wide bed before inspiration struck. She’d wear the rose silk trimmed in silver. That decided, Caroline sat still long enough for Fräulein von Genninggen to do her hair. For a finishing touch, Caroline added a tiny silver tiara to sit discreetly atop the elegantly arranged curls and one of her favourite necklaces, a cameo habille of coral on a matching ribbon. Despite her lingering toilette, Caroline made it to the drawing room promptly at seven o’clock.

‘There you are, my dear,’ her brother greeted her, drawing her into the little circle of conversation. Their guests were already there and she felt Monsieur de Busch’s eyes on her. If she’d entertained any worries that the delightful afternoon was an aberration, they were quickly dismissed. In evening attire, Monsieur de Busch was elegant charm itself.

‘Enchanté, vous êtes très belle.’ Monsieur de Busch bowed gallantly over her gloved hand, displaying courtly manners.

‘Merci.’ Caroline favoured him with a short curtsey and her brother tactfully moved away a slight distance, engaging Baron von Stede in a conversation about politics at Hanover.

‘Nous sommes seulement,’ Monsieur de Busch said in a low voice that hid a light smile at her brother’s kind manoeuvrings. ‘Perhaps you might tell me about the artwork in this room.’

‘Are you a student of art?’ Caroline asked, enjoying the chance to continue their conversation in French.

‘Why would you think that, ma chérie?’ Monsieur de Busch’s eyes twinkled.

‘You’ve made several enquiries about the artwork here.’

Monsieur de Busch leaned close and she could smell the clean scent of his evening toilette, herbs and a hint of sandalwood. It suited him. ‘You study the art, I study you,’ he flirted.

Caroline blushed but didn’t look away. ‘Are you trying to seduce me, sir?’

He placed a dramatic hand over his heart. ‘Do you think I would dare such a thing with your brother mere feet away?’

Caroline laughed. ‘I think you would dare a great many things, monsieur, if it suited your purposes.’

He drew her hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. ‘In this case, you are most certainly right. I bow to your superior wisdom, princess.’

Caroline shook her head in feigned exasperation, trying to ignore the jolt of awareness that shot up her arm at his touch. ‘You, sir, must be a sore trial to the ladies of Hanover.’

He winked. ‘They don’t have any complaints and, I wager, neither would you.’

Caroline cleared her throat and redirected the conversation to the art on the wall. ‘This painting is an original.’

‘Is it? I would say this room has quite a collection of originals. The thing about originals is that they can’t be found anywhere else in the world.’

Oh, this was bold and heady stuff indeed. She could debate the merits of physics and religion from dawn to dusk, but these flirty games of Monsieur de Busch’s were out of her depth. For all her academic worldliness she was well-aware he was out of her depth. She was not so naïve to think he spoke mere words. He found her attractive. Eyes that had been warm and mischievous this afternoon were hot and knowing this evening. There was no sense in pretending she did not understand what the veiled reference to ‘originals’ meant. ‘I am honoured, sir, by your compliment.’

‘As am I,’ Monsieur de Busch replied, the chocolate coals of his eyes burning hot with unmistakable desire of a man for a beautiful woman. Then he smiled, dispelling the moment before it could disintegrate into awkwardness.

Caroline toured him about the room, stopping to point out various paintings and mural work, speaking in French the whole time. At one point, Monsieur de Busch broke into fluent but heavily accented English.

‘Are you trying to impress me with your command of languages?’ Caroline laughed, responding in English herself. ‘We’ve spoken German, French and now English.’

Monsieur de Busch was all mock seriousness. ‘Hardly! If I was, I’d be telling you how lovely you are in Dutch and Spanish, not to mention Latin.’ He leaned closer in a conspiratorial fashion and whispered, ‘But usually women like jewels better than my flattery.’

They laughed over this and made light of it, but Caroline tucked the piece of knowledge away in her thoughts. This guest from Hanover was learned. While it was not uncommon for the nobility to be fluent in French and German, there were plenty who didn’t have more than a passing acquaintance with the other languages. She was suitably impressed.

Caroline was suitably impressed over dinner too. Monsieur de Busch and his companion comported themselves well. Talk was mainly social and political, an exchange of news from Hanover and the court at Berlin. Only one odd thing occurred during dinner and it was minor. Although the court at Berlin was the Prussian king’s court and admittedly the most glamorous of the German courts, Monsieur de Busch was eager to steer the conversation away from it. He commented instead on the musicians in the gallery. ‘Music during dinner is inspired. It makes the meal so soothing.’ He turned to Caroline specifically. ‘I’ve met the composer Handel. He’s quite talented. You should have him write a piece for your dinner parties.’

Caroline smiled. ‘I met him at Lutzenburg. He is indeed talented.’ But that was the wrong way to take the conversation for both of them. For Monsieur de Busch, it would only lead back to the Prussian court and for her it would dredge up painful memories of losing Sophia-Charlotte. Caroline took a sip of wine. ‘Tell me about the entertainments at Hanover? Are you at the elector’s court much?’

Monsieur de Busch merely shrugged. ‘The elector’s court is manageable but it lacks the grace of Ansbach.’ Caroline did not miss the compliment.

The meal passed amiably and there were cards to follow. As the evening turned late, Monsieur de Busch asked if she might accompany him on a short walk about the gardens before retiring.

‘The night air is revivifying.’ Monsieur de Busch breathed deeply as they stepped outdoors. He turned his head up to the sky. ‘Just look at those stars.’

Together, they sought out constellations, although Caroline noted his knowledge of astronomy was not nearly as developed as hers.

‘Well, not all of us can study with the great Leibniz. I assume that’s where you come by your vast knowledge of the skies,’ Monsieur de Busch said affably, not the least bit bothered that he’d been outpaced in this arena.

‘Yes, we are regular correspondents still. He’s been both friend and mentor to me through the years, although I do not know when I might see him again.…’

Monsieur de Busch’s hand closed warmly over her own, his voice soft. ‘I am sorry for your loss. I have gathered the queen was dear to you. I understand losing her meant much not only as the loss of a friend but the loss of access to another life, one that you enjoyed fully.’

In that moment, Caroline’s heart went out to the Hanoverian noble. He’d understood her loss in a way she’d not been able to convey since the queen’s death and she was moved beyond words he was the one to recognise it.

He stroked the tops of her knuckles with his thumb, a slow languid gesture that sent a lovely trill up her arm. ‘I did not come out here to conjure up sad memories, my dear. I’ve come out here because I find myself enraptured with the company of Ansbach and I am loath to leave. But I would not impose myself on you, if my company were not also to your liking.’

He was asking her permission to stay. Caroline saw the request and so much more in the carefully courtly worded statement. He wanted to stay, because of her. She wanted to dance about the garden and give an undignified yelp of delight. But he’d been so very gentlemanly in his request. She must respond in the same.

‘We would be delighted to entertain you here at Ansbach for as long as you wish,’ Caroline replied.

‘That would be eternity.’ Monsieur de Busch gave a wry smile and stepped forward, drawing her gently to him. ‘Let us seal our agreement with a kiss and the stars shall be our witness.’

His arm was about her waist, drawing her against him, his mouth taking hers in a soft kiss that deepened as it lingered. It was the perfect kiss to offer a lady who’d not been oft kissed in her lifetime—gentle and sensuous but not so arrogantly passionate to scare off an untried girl. Caroline sank into it, a breathy gasp of approval escaping her. She revelled in the feel of the hard planes of his body. Beneath the layers of coat, waistcoat and shirt, Monsieur de Busch was a well-made man. The King of Spain might send diplomats to woo on his behalf, but this man wooed for himself and that was a heady novelty indeed; to be drawn into a man’s embrace and kissed thusly without considerations for diplomatic agreements and political alliances was quite the elixir, and for the moment, Caroline gave herself to it beneath the stars of Ansbach.

Chapter Six

Her brother was waiting for them when they returned. Baron von Stede had already gone up to his rooms. Caroline gave a vague thought to whether or not one could look ‘kissed.’ She hoped not. Monsieur de Busch took very correct leave of her that belied no suggestion of the exchange that had taken place in the garden.

‘You like him,’ William commented once they were alone. He smiled as he said it. ‘It makes me glad to see you happy again.’

‘He has proven to be good company,’ Caroline offered, not wanting to give too much away, but inside she was a jumble of emotions, all of them good. ‘We’ve only just met. It is too soon to rush to any conclusions.’

It was the logical stance to take. They didn’t know anything about him beyond the introductory letter from Count Platen. They didn’t know his prospects, his family, nothing. Not that it necessarily mattered. Princesses of Ansbach could usually marry as they wished. They were not known for making grand alliances. But there was still the King of Prussia to consider. Not all princesses of Ansbach were wards to the king either. Nonetheless, Caroline hummed a little tune as she went upstairs. Against all rational thought, she couldn’t help but think Monsieur de Busch might be the one.

She might be the one, George thought as he prepared for bed. It would be hard to sleep. There was so much to contemplate. Princess Caroline had far exceeded his grandmother’s descriptions. She was beauty incarnate and had intelligence too. Even from their conversations today he could tell her education far outstripped his own. His education had not been neglected in the least, but while he knew things, she thought about things. He was not a thinker in that regard. He was a man of plans and actions.

Beautiful and intelligent, she graced her brother’s home with serenity. He’d noted the quick arrangements she’d made for dinner. He’d had only to mention the musicians and she’d seen it done, seemingly effortlessly. He could already imagine her gracing the tables of his state dinners, of her re-creating an intellectual circle like Lutzenburg in his own court when the time came.

It was also clear that she was kind and well-liked. Her brother held her in genuine affection. In short, Princess Caroline was a paragon. A passionate paragon if what had transpired in the garden was anything to go on. He was glad for it. It seemed, in coming to Ansbach, he had found what he was looking for—both a queen and companion. Even so, it surprised him mightily.

In all honesty, it had been the adventure which had appealed to him. He’d coached himself not to expect too much from Princess Caroline. Mutual respect had been the goal. Love at first sight was far beyond any expectation. He’d been wrong about that. Apparently it was possible after all.

But he’d been right about one thing. It was hard to sleep that night.

He allowed himself three more days in Ansbach. He counselled himself to seek a road of caution in spite of his early elation, a rare option for him. He did not view himself as a cautious fellow, nor did he hold the concept of caution in high esteem. If he saw something he liked, he went after it.

That was precisely what he did. He turned his three-day stay into a whirlwind courtship, spending every moment at Caroline’s side. They strolled the Hofgarten together. She toured him through the medieval streets of the town. They rode out into the countryside to picnic with von Eltz, her brother and other friends William invited.

During the day, he could touch her in small ways—a hand at her back, an arm to steady her across rocky terrain. But in the evenings he could kiss her beneath the stars in the garden. He revelled in the idea that he was the first to teach her the art of such intimacies. She was virtuous as a princess should be, but that did not stop her from taking pleasure in their garden interludes which she seemed to enjoy as much as he.

As much as he imagined himself in the role of chivalrous knight, it was not a role he’d lived out. Most of the women he associated with at Hanover’s court were happy to oblige him in all ways. Kisses always concluded in something more and usually in bed. But there was no question of that here. Princess Caroline was not a woman to be taken outside the benefit of marriage and that proved to be his greatest trial. As his time at Ansbach drew to a close, he was hard-pressed to exercise restraints on his ardour.

On his final evening, George presented her with a fine cameo necklace. They were alone in the garden. It had become their ritual.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Caroline murmured, her blue eyes filling with emotion. She drew a finger along the raised contours of the cameo’s silhouette. ‘How did you know?’

George smiled. ‘I noticed that you’ve worn a different one each day of our visit.’

‘I collect them.’

‘Then I am especially glad I chose it for you. I hope you will keep it as a token of my affections, and in appreciation for your hospitality to two strangers.’

‘Perhaps this is also a parting gift? Will I see you again?’ Caroline asked. It was a question they’d been dancing about all day. George could not answer the question without exposing himself and he did not want to spoil their remaining day with talk of farewell. He wanted to take the image of her laughing in the sun with him back to Hanover to sustain him until he did see her again.

‘Partings are not necessarily forever,’ George said softly. ‘I will see you again.’ But never as Monsieur de Busch. The next time they met, he would be the Hanoverian prince. When he’d donned this guise, he’d never thought he’d regret giving it up. It came as something of a surprise to find that he did. But when Caroline came into his arms, his worries were allayed. She cared for the man he was, not the king that would be revealed. She would not care if he turned out to be more than a charming man from Hanover.

Chapter Seven

George wasted no time in returning to Herrenhausen. He went straight to his father without bothering to change out of his travelling attire, relieved to find his father still at home and not yet departed for Pyrmont, where he liked to take the waters.

‘It was love at first sight. She was all grandmother said and more,’ George announced without preamble, standing in his father’s study.

‘The trip was good, then?’ his father enquired with good humour, laughing at his son’s high colour and apparent hurry. Part of George wanted to answer his father’s calm demeanour with a calmness of his own but he found he couldn’t.

He was probably smiling like an idiot. He didn’t care. It was a charmed life he was living these days. First, his father’s surprising affability after years of a strained father-son relationship, and now having found Caroline. The Fates were certainly favouring him.

‘And for her?’ his father pressed, amused at his son’s high spirits but still possessed of a measure of caution. ‘It’s not enough for only one of you to love the other.’

‘For her as well. I think she will want to marry with all possible haste, as do I.’ George’s mind went back to their last private moments in the garden. She’d not wanted him to leave.

His father nodded. ‘Very well. We will see what can be done. But—’ he raised a cautioning finger ‘—we will need to proceed with prudence and always with an eye towards the Prussian king. If we are too hasty, it will look like we’re trying to steal a march on him and, of course, we’ll want to ascertain that the King of Spain has broken off his suit.’

His father was lost in thought for a moment, the mental wheels of his mind creating lists very different of the sort being created in George’s mind. ‘We’ll need to send a discreet envoy. The fewer people who know about this, the better, until things are officially settled.’

‘Send Baron von Eltz back in his guise as von Stede,’ George said abruptly. ‘She will recognise him and know that he speaks the truth.’ He was wishing he could go himself, wishing he could be there to allay any reactions Caroline might have.

‘That’s a good suggestion. He’s already familiar with everything we’ve done so far.’ His father shot him a humorous look. ‘You might be interested to know that people who noticed your absence are speculating as to the reason. Some suggest you’ve followed the entourage of the Princess of Hesse and her lovely companion.’

George laughed. ‘At least they acquit me with good taste. But they will be wrong. My intentions are firmly fixed on Caroline.’

‘Then I will send von Eltz back to Ansbach as soon as our position is in order.’ His father stuck out his hand across the desk. ‘Congratulations, son, I think you have made a good choice in this.’

For the next few days, Herrenhausen was a hive of covert activity. Details were arranged with von Eltz, secretaries drafted the appropriate letters of goodwill to the margrave and the elector continued to pack for his trip to Pyrmont.

Von Eltz made ready to leave. The elector made ready to leave. George settled in to wait, something he was not admittedly skilled at. More than ever, he was glad to have taken his father’s suggestion about visiting Caroline incognito. Their splendid but whirlwind courtship provided him memories that were vivid with colour and recalled with private laughter. Ever since his declaration, the ‘personal’ aspect of wedding Caroline had been transmuted into an act of the state. He was glad not to have met Caroline first under those conditions, where everything was stiff and formal. They would have walked the gardens of Ansbach with a retinue following behind. There would have been no laughter, no time for joking; everything they’d done would have been on display and then analysed and dissected. It would have been a play acted out on Hanover’s political stage. Like a play, it wouldn’t have been real.

This wasn’t real, this couldn’t be happening, Caroline thought for the hundredth time as she led Baron von Stede up the stairs to her private receiving chambers. The phrase ran through her head, a litany of disbelief that had been summoned up upon von Stede’s arrival at Ansbach that afternoon.

To her great disappointment, von Stede had arrived alone, suggesting he’d left his companion at Nuremberg, trying once more to make contact with their Italy-bound friends. But it wasn’t that simple. Von Stede had been invited in, tea had been offered. Her brother was glad to see their recent company again. She noticed von Stede had been stiff, his demeanour far more formal than it had been on his previous visit. Caroline had thought it might be due to the absence of his more outgoing friend, but she was admittedly biased. Everything had seemed less colourful in the wake of Monsieur de Busch’s departure.

Then von Stede had looked over at her and said intently, ‘If it is to your liking, I would like a private conversation with you. I have news of our mutual friend that I’d like to share. He sends his greetings.’ Among other things, Caroline was sure but that surety didn’t cause her pulse to race any less.

With all the calmness she could gather, Caroline led von Stede to her apartments and closed the door. They were not entirely alone. Her chaperone, Fräulein von Genninggen, placed herself at a safe distance near the long windows of the room.

Caroline took a seat in a chair and folded her nervous hands in her lap to keep them from betraying too much. ‘I trust our friend is finding Nuremberg more to his liking this time through.’

This comment seemed to catch von Stede by surprise. He lifted an eyebrow in enquiry.

‘It is only that he remarked to me that he found Nuremberg a bit dull,’ Caroline offered.

Von Stede made a gracious nod of his head. ‘I believe that, these days, all else pales by comparison to your company. Which is why I am here.’

‘A very neat segue, sir,’ Caroline said. ‘Please feel able to speak freely.’

Von Stede cleared his throat and gave a jerk of his head to indicate the fräulein’s presence was disagreeable to him. ‘Perhaps the fräulein would be good enough to await us somewhere else.’

It was to be entirely private, then. Caroline understood and sent the fräulein out of the room.

‘First, I need to inform you that our friend is well and sends his most sincere regards. I also need to inform you that the name Monsieur de Busch is entirely fabricated. The man who came to you as Monsieur de Busch is George Augustus, the Electoral Prince of Hanover.’

This was definitely not real. This was the stuff of fairy tales, of princesses rescued by knights in disguise. When she’d thought she was kissing a nice baron, she’d been kissing the electoral prince, a future king of Great Britain.

‘I do not mean to distress you.’ Von Stede was looking at her strangely, as if she might become overwhelmed by the news. Perhaps he was regretting sending Fräulein von Genninggen out of the room.

‘I had no idea,’ Caroline managed. Now, of course, it made sense—the polyglot accomplishment of languages including English which he’d need in his new country, the courtly manners, the desire to not discuss the court at Berlin. There’d been little signs that he was not a mere baron.

She recovered herself quickly. Sophia-Charlotte had taught her to be gracious and controlled in all situations. ‘I am honoured that he’s remembered me enough to send a personal messenger.’ She looked sharply at von Stede, another thought occurring. ‘I assume you’re not merely Baron von Stede either?’ It was the perfect opening for him to declare himself and Caroline desperately wanted to know with whom she was doing business.

Von Stede bowed. ‘I am Baron von Eltz, privy councillor to the Elector of Hanover. I have been sent by the prince’s father to ascertain your agreeability to a proposal of marriage by the prince.’

There it was, wrapped in the fancy words of court negotiations, the simple proposal of marriage. Her dashing baron wanted to marry her. Caroline’s heart sang but she could only answer, ‘I am agreeable to the offer. I will speak to my brother this evening. He will know what steps need to be taken next.’ She knew very well what the next steps were but she also knew her role in this. It was time for the men to make the arrangements and write up the contracts. It was time for her to be a bride.

Chapter Eight

Von Eltz gave a cough. ‘I must also probe into a matter of some delicacy before we proceed. Are you free to pursue this alliance?’ He paused here, looking for the right words.

Caroline divined his intent and took pity on him. ‘The King of Spain has no claim on me. I have recently sent a note to not bother with the meeting his councillors and others requested in Nuremberg.’ She smiled at the irony of it. ‘The prince is not really in Nuremberg, is he?’

Von Eltz returned her smile, chuckling a little at the dark humour that the King of Spain’s envoys might accidentally meet up with the prince after all of Hanover’s contretemps to avoid discovery. ‘No, the prince is not in Nuremberg. He’s in Hanover, chafing at the bit for a wedding as soon as it can be arranged.’

‘Then you may tell him I will come to him with all haste possible, although there is much to be done.’ She was amazed she managed to sound so decorous. Her pulse was racing with the thrill of it and she thought she’d fairly burst with the joy of the moment. If it were up to her, she’d leave this minute, but princesses did not act impulsively.

Von Eltz bowed graciously. ‘I will leave you with a final admonition, princess. This must be kept as secret as possible. It is the prince’s wish.’

‘His wish is my own, from this day forward,’ Caroline pledged. Even if the privy councillor hadn’t requested it, Caroline would have urged secrecy anyway. With such happiness close at hand, she didn’t want to risk any interference from the King of Prussia.

As soon as von Eltz left her alone in her rooms, Caroline danced across the floor in her happiness, her skirts sweeping about her, her arms outstretched. She knew hearts should not be factored into alliances and ultimately this was an alliance, but her heart was engaged just a little. She would be a fool not to admit it. She had found a prince among men, quite literally.

Caroline did her duty. She spoke to her brother and, in turn, he did his duty requesting the presence of the Landgrave of Hesse-Darmstadt to draw up the settlement of property between brother and sister.

To her great relief, the drawing up of contracts did not take long. The landgrave, her own councillor and von Eltz did an admirable and expedient job, although the waiting seemed interminable for her. She was more than ready to see George again.

Von Eltz tried to allay her growing impatience with rides in the countryside where he’d share bits of news from George enclosed in the official dispatches.

On the ninth of July, George wrote that his grandmother, the dear, had been surprised by the announcement of their betrothal because she had known nothing about the plans in motion and in many ways it had been her plan from the start. It seemed to Caroline that it was quite fortuitous. She could not have Sophia-Charlotte as a mother, but she could have Sophia-Charlotte’s own mother as a grandmother-in-law.

By the twenty-first of July, Caroline was assured the betrothal was now considered an ‘open secret’ at Hanover’s court. It would become public knowledge at a dinner hosted by the Elector of Hanover within the week.

By late August, her trunks were packed, her entourage ready for the journey to Hanover and the royal wedding that awaited her there.

It had all been accomplished with remarkable speed, although at times the speed had seemed to diminish to a snail’s plodding. Looking back, she could see the whirlwind truth of it. In June, she’d had no inkling of who a future husband might be, nor had she even been looking for one. She’d merely been resigned that there would be one. Now, eight weeks later (and that was being generous with the calendar; a stickler for details would claim it at seven), she was off to marry the future King of England, a prize so far beyond the scope of her House as to be unthinkable.

Caroline smiled to herself as they set off on the journey to Hanover. He was not only a future king. She was off to marry a man who made her laugh, who knew within a span of days and without asking that she liked cameos, who liked her the way she was—Protestant and intelligent. That was worth more than any crown. She knew in her heart that if Monsieur de Busch had asked for her hand, she would have given it.

Their marriage would not be perfect. Of necessity, kings and queens led imperfect lives and marriages; the very nature of how the alliances were arranged guaranteed that. She was not naïve enough to think she and George would escape those limitations. No, it would not be perfect but they would be happy.

Late August 1705

There was no more perfect way to ruin a wedding than a death in the family. George cursed his bad luck and paced the reception hall of Herrenhausen, where the relevant parties were gathered. The kind Fates had turned their backs for just an instant and the impossible had happened. His grandfather, the Duke of Celle, had died suddenly. He hadn’t been sick. He’d been out hunting, for heaven’s sake. It was nothing more than a chill. A man hale enough to hunt shouldn’t die from a chill. At least he should have the courtesy of dying after the wedding festivities.

‘We’ll postpone the wedding, of course,’ said one of the councillors. Others agreed. But that was unacceptable to George.

‘Why “of course”?’ George broke in briskly.

The councillor who’d suggested it stammered, looking for an answer. ‘It’s customary,’ he managed. ‘When there’s a death, impending celebrations are put off.’

‘But in this case, it is almost impossible to stall the preparations. The princess is en route to us.’ George had a flash of brilliance. ‘In many ways the wedding is no longer an impending event, but already under way.’ He glanced at his father. ‘The contracts are set, the bride is on her way, preparations have been made.’ Everyone was listening to see where he was going with his argument. ‘It’s one thing to cancel events that haven’t occurred yet, but it’s another to cancel events that have begun. We cannot expect Princess Caroline to idle away her days in Hanover waiting for a wedding she’s been promised.’ The very mention of this request being for Caroline’s benefit swayed the argument in his favour.

Once the announcement of their engagement had been made, George had discovered just how wonderful people found his choice. Everywhere he went it seemed someone had a glowing compliment to make about his future wife. It filled him with pride and with great longing to be with her again. Mentioning her was a stroke of genius. The room began to murmur. It would be unfair to Caroline, one advisor assented. Others nodded.

George shrewdly launched his other salvo in a quiet voice now that the seed was sown. ‘After all our efforts, we certainly don’t want to risk losing her to the Prussian king. If we delay, he might find a way to oppose the contracts. He is her guardian after all.…’ George let the last trail off into whatever implications individuals might draw.

At last his father spoke up. ‘I think, in this case, we might set aside mourning for the duke for a few days.’ He shot a sharp glance at George. ‘But you have to understand the festivities will be curtailed greatly, three days at most. The wedding itself will need to be a quiet affair.’

George maintained a sombre expression as he managed, ‘Yes, Father, I understand entirely.’ He understood that he’d won. There would be time later for pomp and pageantry. Right now he only cared about making Caroline his. His young blood burned hot at the prospect. Another thought occurred to him.

‘I think it would be best if I rode to meet their travelling party and inform them of the new plans,’ George said, careful not to word it as a request but as a statement. The entourage from Ansbach would be halfway to Hanover. It would be a chance to see Caroline informally before she arrived at court. Perhaps even a chance to be Monsieur de Busch again before he had to be the king.

‘Monsieur de Busch is downstairs, my lady,’ Fräulein von Genninggen announced. ‘He’s requested an audience with you in a private parlour.’

Caroline looked up from her needlework, her fingers starting to shake. ‘He’s here? Of course I’ll see him. I’ll be down right away.’ Just as soon as I tidy my hair, change my dress—oh, I must look a mess, Caroline thought. Travelling was difficult on a person. There were never enough facilities for a proper bath.

George is here! Her heart sang. It was most unlooked for and yet most welcome. Unless he brought bad news? The fear that something had happened prompted her to forgo an elaborate toilette. She was downstairs and in the parlour within five minutes. She was in George’s arms thirty seconds after that, just as soon as they were alone.

‘It’s not bad news?’ she enquired, worried eyes searching his face.

‘Bad news with a happy ending,’ George told her. He sat down on a bench and pulled her onto his lap. ‘I’ve ridden out mostly because I missed you. But also because my grandfather has died. It was very unexpected.’

Caroline’s heart sank. Deaths meant mourning. The wedding would be postponed. She waited to hear the disappointing words.

‘The wedding will have to be a quiet one. But at least it won’t be postponed.’ George smiled. ‘I could not bear that. The summer apart has been torture already.’

Caroline let out a breath of relief. ‘A quiet wedding is fine, George. It only matters that we are together. Perhaps it’s better to begin our married life on a calm note.’ She looked down at her hand where it rested against his chest, his heart beating beneath it.

‘I am eager to know you, George,’ she ventured. ‘I want to learn what you like, your favourite colour, your favourite hobbies. Our time at Ansbach was too short and yet it’s enough to know I care for you.’

‘If you like, we can start tonight,’ George whispered huskily in her ear before stealing a long kiss that recalled starry nights at Ansbach and promised a future full of adventure.

He came to her that night under the secrecy of darkness. She was ready for him. She’d left her hair loose, brushed until it shone like spun gold in the candlelight of her room, and she wore a white gown of linen embroidered at the hem with tiny green flowers. She was fully aware the linen was not a barrier to eyes, the candlelight illuminating her body through the shift.

It would be better this way, they’d decided over a private dinner of red wine and boar, to be together as man and wife in the relaxed intimacy of the inn. Here, there would be no expectations of the kingly marriage bed. Here, they would just be themselves, two lovers exploring each other’s bodies. The very thought of it had made her rush through dinner.

The door opened a fraction and George entered silently, shutting the door firmly behind him and locking it. He was dressed simply in white shirt and buff breeches. He was already barefoot.

‘Boots are nothing but a nuisance.’ George smiled, following her eyes to his feet but his eyes didn’t stay there long. He was obviously entranced with her. ‘Boots are a nuisance and you are beautiful.’

Caroline smiled, uncertain what to do next. How did one proceed with a lover? But George had it all well in hand. He caught her to him and kissed her. Would you like to undress me, my dear?’ he whispered against her neck.

It was an easy enough task and one that she revelled in. There was a certain thrill in revealing her lover’s body inch by inch as the shirt fell away and she gazed at his chest. In the prime of youth, he did not disappoint. The muscled chest she’d guessed at through layers of clothes did exist in truth. It tapered down to a lean stomach and hips. Here she hesitated, her hands resting on the waistband of his trousers.

He helped her with the trousers until he stood unabashedly naked before her, his arousal jutting proudly. She blushed profusely. But he laughed. ‘You should look your fill, and take pride that you can rouse me so thoroughly. This is what you do to me.’

So she did look. The male body was wondrously made, and for all her education at Lutzenburg she recognised she was woefully uneducated in this arena.

He took her to bed then, pulling her shift over her head and looking longingly down the length of her body. He cupped her breasts and kissed each of them by turn, causing her to tremble with the pleasure of such attentions. He kissed her belly, his hands framing her hips before he rose over her, kissing her full on the mouth. Oh, this was exquisite! She clutched him to her, her legs spreading instinctively to bring him closer. She felt him nudging at her entrance and she strained against him, her body begging him to take her. Then he was there, inside her, bringing with him a stab of pain, a shock only because there’d been so much pleasure.

He stilled and let her body relax around him. But she was anxious to find the completion her body craved. She arched her hips against him as she took him in her arms and brought his mouth down to hers, a moan of satisfaction escaping his lips. They were moving together now, finding a twin rhythm in their mutual need for each other, a need that surged around them, enveloping her in its intensity until she thought she’d shatter from the force of it.

And shatter she did.

George gave a final thrust, his own pleasure evident in the pulsing throb of him inside her, and she broke, positively broke, into a kaleidoscope of sensations that wrapped about her as she spiralled slowly back down to earth. For all she knew, she’d not known this, not ever dreamed this was possible.

‘You’re mine now,’ George murmured a long while later, his hand idly stroking the length of her hair.

‘Yes, I am yours.’ She turned in his arms to face him. She was his in a way that far transcended contracts and diplomats, thrones and titles.

‘I think you’re a very brave woman, Caroline.’

‘Why is that?’ She smiled up into his face.

‘You have given up your home to make a new one in another’s court. Eventually, you’ll give up your country for a land you’ve never seen. I don’t think just any woman can do that. You have my admiration.’

‘And you have my devotion. I don’t think about what I’m giving up, George. I am thinking about what I’m gaining in return and that’s you. Not your crown, not that blasted list of titles I saw in the contracts, just you.’

George kissed her, long and lingering. ‘I hope I can live up to your expectations, then. That’s a lot of pressure to put on a man.’ He laughed.

‘Don’t worry.’ Caroline caressed his face. ‘You already have.’

‘My family doesn’t have the best track record at marriage.’ George chuckled at her optimism. His father had repudiated his mother years ago and locked her in a tower.

Caroline shook her head. ‘Mine doesn’t either. My mother didn’t have the luxury of choosing with her heart.’

‘It won’t be perfect,’ George whispered.

‘No, but we’ll be happy.’ Caroline sighed contentedly.

‘Yes, I believe we will.’

Chapter Nine

Caroline stood at the entrance to the chapel at Herrenhausen Palace and smiled softly, surveying the quiet beauty of the setting laid out before her. Candles lit the chapel and the interior basked in the warm glow. Summer flowers adorned the aisle, lending a faintly sweet fragrance to the air. One could hardly guess from looking at the chapel that she’d arrived just that afternoon with George riding beside her.

There were those who might comment on the haste, but it only added to the romance and mystery that surrounded public accounts of their betrothal. If the setting was simple, it was also romantic. Those in attendance seemed to sense it too. Gathered in the pews were her people from Ansbach and George’s family, perhaps a small number of guests compared to what might have been if circumstances had been different. But Caroline didn’t mind. The intimate evening wedding seemed the perfect cap to the whirlwind courtship that had consumed her summer.

Now, dressed in her best, a gown of deep French blue trimmed in white lace and embroidered with white flowers at the hem, a bouquet of orange blossoms clutched in her hand, she was ready to go forward.

Her prince waited at the aisle’s end, looking well-groomed and stately in his coat with its wide cuffs turned back to show the lace of his shirt. Smiles of approval met her as she walked forward, although she gave them the barest of notice. Everyone was fond of saying George had gotten the better end of the bargain, claiming she was the finest princess at court. Caroline would nod and laugh lightly at these comments, but in her heart she knew she had done well in this arrangement. She was to have a king and a companion and the latter was worth more than anything court councillors could list in their marriage settlements.

George smiled fondly at her and took her hand, squeezing it affectionately. ‘Everyone is wondering what I did to win such a lovely bride,’ he whispered.

‘You were yourself.’

‘Sort of.’ George laughed and earned a sharp look from the priest, who wanted to get on with things.

Caroline wanted to get on with things too. Their apartments at the palace were waiting for them. Tomorrow there would be a ball and there would be congratulations to receive but tonight would be just for them.

George lifted her chin for a kiss and it was done. Together they walked down the aisle and took their first steps into their new life, confident in their newly created union.

Outside the chapel, George halted and drew her to him, kissing her far more soundly than he had at the altar moments ago. His eyes danced as he released her.

‘You’re up to something,’ Caroline teased. ‘What are you thinking? I can practically hear the wheels of your mind spinning.’

‘I am thinking a king can be a lot of things, even happy.’ And he kissed her again just to prove it.

Author Note

I was thrilled to be asked to be part of the Royal Weddings shorts to celebrate the wedding of William and Kate. The hard part came, however, in the selection of a royal wedding. I wanted to do a real wedding that actually resulted in a happy marriage. I settled on George II and Caroline of Ansbach for two reasons. First, she’s a fascinating woman in history about whom little is known, and second, one item kept showing up in the accounts we have of them: they were relatively happy together and their marriage is considered in general to have been a success.

Here are some facts: Caroline and George had several children together. Most of them lived to adulthood. Except for approving of his marriage to Caroline, George’s father continued to have a strained relationship with George. At one point, George and his father had a public fight at the baptism of one of George’s sons and his father evicted him and Caroline from St James’s Palace in London. Yes, George kept mistresses throughout the marriage. But when Caroline died in 1737 after thirty-two years of marriage, it’s reported that George vowed at her death bed to never marry again.

As a man and a king, George was considered to be attractive in his youth and likely to take a dare. He liked a challenge. One of the distinguishing factors of his biography is his claim to fame of being the last British monarch to personally lead troops in battle. He was considered daring and impulsive but possessed of a temper. While he was fluent in several languages, intellect was not his forte. It was generally held even during their reign that Caroline was the brains behind the throne. There were many accounts of Caroline serving as the Regent of England while her husband was abroad visiting Hanover. Some say she served as temporary regent up to seven times during their reign. Caroline quickly understood that her husband’s interests were her interests. Their happiness and mutual affection depended on the two of them championing the same causes. Historians credit this insight to the success of their marriage. She never sided against him.

Not much is written about Caroline’s early life. I did find useful resources in a book entitled Caroline the Illustrious, written back in the early 1900s, and a 1997 release of King George II and Queen Caroline.

It is true that Caroline was a popular bride choice. The King of Spain was very insistent in his courtship and her refusal of the future Holy Roman Emperor distressed the King of Prussia greatly.

It is true that George visited her incognito and immensely enjoyed his visit in June at Ansbach. He is reported in dispatches sent to Queen Anne in England to have told his father upon his return, ‘It is love at first sight.’ And that he wished to marry immediately.

It is true that his grandfather died right before the wedding and dispatches to England from England’s representative at the Hanover Court reported the wedding would probably be moved back several weeks for mourning unless Prince George contested the decision. His father and grandmother left the decision entirely up to him. He did indeed argue to hasten the marriage and he did ride out to meet Caroline’s party halfway to tell her the news.

Places where I embellished…

I do not know what Caroline wore to her wedding. From my research, I came across only one account of the wedding ceremony itself and that was in the English envoy’s dispatch. I based my description on the general tradition of the time which was to wear one’s best clothes to be married in. It was also customary at the time to wear white as a sign of half mourning but I elected to put Caroline in blue since the historical record suggests that everyone left off mourning behaviour for three days to celebrate the marriage. It was also tradition to carry orange blossoms as a sign of purity.

George did ride out to meet the party halfway on its journey to Hanover. Did he and Caroline consummate their relationship then? I don’t know. Maybe not. However, we do know that George felt the need to ‘restrain his ardour’ (a direct line from research I found) during his visit to Ansbach since he could not reveal his true identity or the true nature of his visit. They’d also just spent the whole summer apart and Caroline made all haste to Hanover, even waiving all ‘unnecessary ceremony’ to hasten the marriage. So, they were in earnest and this particular story is foremost a romance.

Two final historic points of note:

There was one unromantic report that George slept through the wedding but, since I could not collaborate it, I chose to overlook it.

It was not clear which palace George visited in Ansbach when he courts Caroline in disguise. It may have been the hunting lodge or White Castle in Triesdorf, or it may have been the main palace in Ansbach. The book Caroline the Illustrious says he was received at the palace—which would be the main palace at Ansbach. The book King George II and Queen Caroline states he found Caroline in residence in Triesdorf but does not name the residence specifically as the hunting lodge or the White Castle. I chose to put their meeting at the main palace in Ansbach.

George II did have a love for the arts and opera. To reflect that, I centred their early conversations around the art of the margrave’s palace which was known for its painted ceiling and the porcelain saloon. Since I had a description of the main palace and some of its interiors, setting their courtship there worked well with George’s love of art. It was difficult to find any significant descriptions of the Triesdorf residence that would have been accurate for those years.

It is clear that George was devoted to her in his own way. There are reports from the first months of their marriage that he hardly left her side and that their friendship was fond to look upon. There are also accounts of Caroline catching smallpox in 1707 and of George staying beside her much of the time, endangering his life and falling ill with the disease himself. There are also other stories about their devotion to each other that equally affirm their mutual regard in a marriage that lasted thirty-two years until Caroline’s death. However, there are reports as well that Caroline learned George’s faults in short order as well. He was not a perfect man.

There’s so much more I’d love to share here, but I hope you enjoyed this story. Please know that I tried to be as true to history as possible and did so to the best of my abilities.

For more information and fun facts about Caroline and George’s courtship, check out my blog at www.bronwynswriting.blogspot.com or look for me on Facebook or at the eHarlequin blog.

Bronwyn Scott

On April 29th 2011 the world will be waiting with bated breath for Prince William and Kate Middleton to say ‘I do’!

The bells at Westminster Abbey are chiming, the carriage is waiting and THE dress has finally been unveiled… So join Her Majesty by dusting off your best hat as you prepare for the wedding of the decade!

To celebrate this historic event, Mills & Boon have created a special ebook collection:

Royal Weddings

…through the ages

Read about the future king’s ancestors and the people who helped bring their special days together.

7 couples, 7 marriages, 7 stories for you to enjoy!

What the Duchess Wants by Terri Brisbin

Eleanor, Duchess of Aquitaine and Henry of Anjou (future Henry II), 1152

Lionheart’s Bride by Michelle Willingham

King Richard and Princess Berengaria, 1191

Prince Charming in Disguise by Bronwyn Scott

Prince George and Caroline of Ansbach, 1704

A Princely Dilemma by Elizabeth Rolls

George, Prince of Wales (future Prince Regent/George IV) and Princess Caroline of Brunswick, 1795

The Problem with Josephine by Lucy Ashford

Napoleon and Archduchess Marie-Louise of Austria, 1810

Princess Charlotte’s Choice by Ann Lethbridge

Princess Charlotte and Prince Leopold, 1816

With Victoria’s Blessing by Mary Nichols

Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, 1840

So if you can’t wait until the 29th for your royal wedding fix…download one now!

Bronwyn Scott is a communications instructor in the Puget Sound area, and is the proud mother of three wonderful children (one boy and two girls). When she’s not teaching or writing she enjoys playing the piano, traveling—especially to Florence, Italy—and studying history and foreign languages. Readers can stay in touch on Bronwyn’s website, www.bronwynnscott.com, or at her blog, www.bronwynswriting.blogspot.com—she loves to hear from readers.

Look for:

Arabian Nights with a Rake

featured in Delectably Undone! anthology

April 2011

Secret Life of a Scandalous Debutante

September 2011

Also available from Harlequin® Historical and BRONWYN SCOTT

Pickpocket Countess #889

Notorious Rake, Innocent Lady #896

The Viscount Claims His Bride #929

The Earl’s Forbidden Ward #986

Untamed Rogue, Scandalous Mistress #1001

A Thoroughly Compromised Lady #1030

And in eBook Harlequin Historical Undone!

Libertine Lord, Pickpocket Miss

Pleasured by the English Spy

Wicked Earl, Wanton Widow

Arabian Nights with a Rake

ISBN: 978-1-4592-0417-1

Prince Charming in Disguise

Copyright © 2011 by Nikki Poppen

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