The Queen and Lord M by Jean Plaidy Page B

become a pitiable, querulous be-rouged mountain of decaying flesh by the time he was King – and William IV, certainly the most unkingly of them all, a man whom his people tolerated with a certain indulgence but who was suspected often of suffering from his father’s malady and certainly behaved in a manner to suggest this was true.
    So was it not moving after a succession of unprepossessing half or wholly crazy old men, to find on the throne an eager young girl, anxious to do what was right and showing a willingness – one might say eagerness – to be guided?
    He thought of her dispassionately not as a queen but as a girl. She was by no means beautiful, though at moments she could look almost pretty; her blue eyes were too prominent, her chin too small and receding; her nose was a trifle arrogant and when she laughed she showed her gums in a way which was not very attractive. But there was a determination there. Was it an obstinacy? There was an eagerness and above all an innocence. The Queen knew little of the world; she was too ready to trust; she was sentimental; life seen through her eyes would be a simple matter of right and wrong. What delightful material for a man satiated with experience, having lived life to the point beyond which there had seemed little of novelty to attract him, to mould into a queen! Here was a new interest in life. He was convinced that he knew exactly how to handle Victoria and he had not been so excited since the day he had married Caroline.
    As soon as he had come face to face with the Queen he had been aware of the possibilities of a new relationship. He was a man who was very fond of the society of women; all his life he had had many friends among the opposite sex, which had on two occasions – three counting his marriage – brought him to the edge of disaster. It was due to his own inimitable insouciance that he had come through these scandals unscathed; and it was due to that same characteristic that the little Queen had met him and decided without preamble that he was the man she would choose for her favour and her confidence.
    It was gratifying to know that the old charm was not lost and at the age of fifty-eight he could have this effect on a young girl.
    There had been three great influences in his life – politics, literature and women; and perhaps women came first. It was not that he was a particularly sensual man; he indulged in female friendships and nothing could be proved against him in two divorce cases in which he had figured. When his wife had shocked London society with Lord Byron he had remained at home studying the classics; no man in Parliament had so many Greek and Latin quotations at his fingertips. His conversation was both racy and erudite; he peppered it with oaths and salted it with quotations; hostesses clamoured for his company knowing that any party at which Lord Melbourne was a guest would certainly be stimulating.
    He could not have felt the same interest in the new monarch if her sex had been different. A young boy would not have been half as appealing, nor so susceptible to the charms of Lord Melbourne, he was sure. Therefore he was glad that the new monarch was a girl, but was he being premature to find a few short meetings in one day so significant? He did not really think so. They had in truth been overwhelmed by each other. But for the differences of age and the fact that she was a queen and he a Prime Minister one might have called it love at first sight. The phrase brought a smile to his lips.
    How fanciful and yet not exactly untrue. He was looking forward with the greatest exhilaration to further meetings. It was just the fillip he needed to resume his appetite for living.
    He had not been altogether surprised by his success although he had not expected it to be so unreserved. She really was a delightful young creature. It was that candour, that innocence, which made her so; all young, intelligent girls were attractive for their very youth if