He would plead with her; he would make her understand that he must be her lover in fact. Why not? All about them people were indulging with abandon. Why must they be the only lovers at the Hanoverian court who must act with such unnatural restraint?

He must speak to Sophia Dorothea; he turned to the dais, but his arm was caught and turning he saw Prince Charles at his side.

‘You cannot dance with my sister-in-law again tonight, Count,’ said Charles.

‘But …’

‘My dear fellow – you in your pink and silver, she with those flowers in her hair … you cut such a figure. Everyone noticed. You cannot repeat that – or there will be talk. Once was well enough – but the way you looked at her was a little dangerous. No, for the sake of Sophia Dorothea’s reputation don’t go to the dais again tonight.’

He felt deflated. He was weary of the subterfuge. He left the ball early and went home to his mansion which was not far from the palace.

In his room he paced up and down thinking of the evening. It was Clara von Platen who had started these dissatisfied thoughts. She with her allure and her unspoken promises had made him realize what he was missing.

‘This can’t go on,’ he said aloud; and he was at his window for a long time looking out on the dark streets.

One of his pages was at the door.

‘A messenger from the palace, my lord Count.’

Sophia Dorothea! he thought. A letter. She felt as he did. She was begging him to come to her. It was time indeed.

‘Bring him in,’ he commanded.

When the concealing cloak was cast off it proved to be a woman.

‘You come from …’ he began.

‘My mistress wishes to speak to you. Will you come with me without delay?’

‘I am ready. Your mistress …’

‘The Countess von Platen is waiting for you.’

He caught his breath. He had not expected a summons so soon … not a summons at all. Perhaps it did not mean what he feared … what he hoped … it did. And yet …

He hesitated, for he could not banish from his mind the vision of Sophia Dorothea’s beautiful face, her dark hair adorned with flowers, her pure white dress so charming, so beautiful… .

But this was a summons from the Countess von Platen; and he could not ignore it.

He did not know quite what he had expected but afterwards it seemed inevitable.

She was in her apartments … alone; and she was wearing a scarlet robe the same colour as the dress she had worn at the ball. Her hair was loose about her shoulders, her face brilliantly painted.

‘Count Königsmarck,’ she said. ‘I knew you would come.’

‘A summons from the Countess von Platen …’

‘Could not be disobeyed,’ she added.

She held out her hands to him and as she did so the robe which had no fastenings fell apart disclosing her naked body.

She was laughing at him; he heard himself laugh too. There was no turning back now … even if he had wanted to.

It was early morning before Count Königsmarck left the apartments of the Countess von Platen.

Sophia Dorothea was constantly in the company of her parents; and Count Königsmarck in that of the Countess von Platen. The whole court was whispering together about Clara’s new liaison, but if it came to Ernest Augustus’s ears he said nothing. He was concerned chiefly with fulfilling the demands of Leopold and earning that Electorate.

Königsmarck suffered intermittent feelings of guilt and exhilaration; he had never had a mistress quite like Clara. His remorse when he considered what he was doing tormented him and often he would swear that he would never see Clara again; then she would come to him and taunt him; and these interviews always ended in the same way. She invited him to Monplaisir; she was enjoying life as she rarely had before. She was satisfying her immense sexual appetites and at the same time humiliating her enemy and enriching herself, for she saw that Königsmarck took his turn at her card tables and lost. Why not? He had a large fortune of which she would be happy to take a share. This she was doing, and after a successful evening there were satisfying nights.

If Clara had been romantic she would have told herself she was in love with Königsmarck. When he had left her in the early morning she would lie in bed asking herself what it was she enjoyed so much: His prowess as a lover? His handsome body? His insatiable sensuality which was a match for her own? Or the fact that Sophia Dorothea was in love with him. In any case it was a situation which appealed to her senses and her character; and what more could she ask than that?

Sometimes she had a twinge of fear that no other man would ever satisfy her after Königsmarck. That brought with it a sense of fear because she was aware every night of that remorse in him; she knew that even when he was in her bedchamber he was thinking of Sophia Dorothea and that each night there was a battle to be fought to make him forget his romantic attachment to that insipid little fool who wanted him as her lover and was afraid to accept him.

Rarely had life been so amusing, so interesting, so full of triumph for Clara. Then she began to be a little astonished at herself. It was true that no other man appealed to her, and her desire for Königsmarck was growing to an obsession. At all hours of the day he was in her thoughts; and those nights when he was not with her were unbearable. Two emotions began to dominate Clara’s life: her desire for Königsmarck and her jealous hatred of Sophia Dorothea.

Sophia Dorothea had, of course, learned of her lover’s disaffection. Rarely had she felt so desolate. She was the victim of a cruel marriage; and now the man whom she loved, the knight-errant had proved his worthlessness by becoming the lover of her greatest enemy.

Königsmarck was writing notes to her which she ignored. Did he think she was a complete fool? she demanded of Eléonore von Knesebeck. Did he think that he could openly deceive her and that she was so infatuated with him that she would accept such conduct?

‘I never want to see him again!’ she declared.

Fraulein von Knesebeck was like a flustered hen. It had been such fun. So exciting. So dangerous! And now it was all over. She understood Königsmarck was a man after all, and he could not be expected to be satisfied with romantic dreaming of what might be and never was. She tried to explain this to Sophia Dorothea.

‘Don’t make excuses for him!’ stormed Sophia Dorothea. ‘And of all people it had to be that woman … that vile, vulgar creature.’

Eléonore muttered that men were men and it was no use trying to change that.

She would come sighing into her mistress’s apartments. ‘I saw Königsmarck today. He looks so wretched.’

‘Doubtless jealous of his mistress. Perhaps he has discovered by now that he is not the only favoured one.’

‘He gave me a note for you.’

‘Then you were a fool to bring it and had better put it into the fire without delay.’

Eléonore von Knesebeck did no such thing. She laid it on the table and retired, knowing that as soon as she had left Sophia Dorothea would seize on it.

And at last she agreed to see him. Recklessly Eléonore von Knesebeck brought him to her apartment and as she looked at him – more appealing in his humiliation and misery than he had ever been in his arrogance and faithfulness – Sophia Dorothea wanted to forgive him everything if he would but promise to give up Clara.

But she was proud and she had been deeply wounded.

‘Why,’ she demanded, ‘do you wish to see me?’

‘To tell you how unhappy I am.’

‘Why? Has your mistress been unfaithful to you?’

‘It has been like an evil dream.’

‘Evil and irresistible!’ she cried. She had to be angry or she would burst into tears; she would be telling him how glad she was to see him, that she wanted to be back on the old terms … that she would accept anything if they might return to those.

So she whipped up her anger. ‘I am quite disgusted,’ she said. ‘So you have joined the grooms and pages who supply that woman’s nightly entertainment! And not only grooms and pages, of course. Noble Counts join her retinue of lovers.’

‘You do well to abuse me. I deserve all you say of me. But now I am with you I understand full well how much I love you. I have been unable to express my feelings. I have been frustrated … quite maddened by frustration that I have not known what I was doing. You must believe me, my Princess. I will never see the Countess von Platen again. I will be faithful to you and to you only as long as I live. In truth, it was because I believed I must be her friend to help you that I went to her in the first place.’

‘You very well showed your friendship to me!’ put in Sophia Dorothea scornfully, but she was in tears.

He embraced her. ‘My dearest … my Princess… .’

‘I believed in you,’ she sobbed. ‘I would have trusted you.’

‘You can trust me. Never again will I see that woman. I swear to you.’

The door opened and Prince Charles came into the apartment.

‘You are mad!’ he said. ‘I could hear your voices in the next apartment. Do you realize that there will be others listening?’

He looked from one to the other. ‘I know your feelings for each other, but you will have to be careful.’

‘As careful as others are … as Clara von Platen for instance?’ demanded Sophia Dorothea.

‘She is not the mother of the heir of Hanover,’ replied Prince Charles. ‘Listen to me, you are behaving foolishly, both of you. You have my sympathy, my understanding, my friendship. That is why I bid you take care. If it came to the ears of Ernest Augustus that you were lovers, you, Königsmarck, would be banished from Hanover. As for you, Sophia Dorothea, your reputation would be smirched. There would be doubts as to whether young George Augustus was your husband’s son. Don’t you understand?’

‘I have always understood that,’ declared Sophia Dorothea, ‘and I have never been unfaithful to my husband.’

Prince Charles sighed. ‘Who would believe you … overhearing what I have just overheard! And,’ he continued, ‘how can we say who has overheard it? Clara von Platen would seize every opportunity to ruin you.’

‘But not the Count,’ said Sophia Dorothea bitterly.

‘That is perhaps something for which we should be grateful. Come with me, Königsmarck. You should not be here alone with my sister-in-law.’

Königsmarck looked at Sophia Dorothea, and she could no longer hide her true feelings. He took her hands and kissed them. Charles turned his back and gazed at the door.

‘I am forgiven?’ whispered Königsmarck. ‘Say that I am and we will find a way to happiness.’

Sophia Dorothea nodded and they were both conscious of a bleak satisfaction as they parted.

Prince Charles said: ‘You are a fool, Königsmarck.’

‘I am in love with the Princess.’

‘So you go to her apartments and behave in such a manner that every little spy at every keyhole can hear what you are saying, while you conduct an affair with the most jealous and vindictive woman at court who happens to be my sister-in-law’s greatest enemy.’

‘I agree with you. I am a fool.’

‘And immediate wisdom is necessary. There is only one thing you can do at the moment, Königsmarck. Leave Hanover. Come with me to Morea.’

‘You are going to Morea!’

‘I have just received orders from my father to prepare myself. I am to lead a company against the Turks. It is part of his agreement with Emperor Leopold.’

‘But to Morea!’

‘I am asking you to leave one dangerous spot for another. You’re a soldier, Königsmarck – but I believe you are in as great danger here as you will be in Morea.

Morea! The adventure of war. It had always appealed to him. But to leave Sophia Dorothea just when he had persuaded her to forgive him!

‘Well?’ asked Charles; and when Königsmarck did not answer, he added: ‘Think about it.’

The Duchess Sophia had sent for Königsmarck.

He thought: So we were overheard. It has come to the ears of the Duchess and I am about to be banished from Hanover. He thought of the Court of France, of that of Saxony. They were far more brilliant than Hanover but he would be far from Sophia Dorothea.

Now that he had seen her again he wondered how he could have been temporarily beguiled by Clara von Platen. She was old – all of forty; she was experienced in a manner which had fiercely attracted him; but after seeing Sophia Dorothea in her fresh youth and beauty, he knew that he loved her and he cursed himself for his lapse.