Read Online Bride to the King by Barbara Cartland - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Cartland
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moment she added,
“Now I think of it, in history Kings have always gone about their countries in disguise. Francois I, for instance, used to go out every night, wandering round the town to mix with – his subjects.”
She was going to say, ‘to mix with beautiful women,’ which was what she remembered she had read in a somewhat racy French biography.
Then she thought to say such a thing would not only be indiscreet but perhaps somewhat improper.
“Who was Francois I?” the King asked.
“He was the King of France, Sire, in 1515.”
“I have never heard of him, but he obviously had the right ideas.”
“Are you interested in history?”
“No, I am not!” the King replied. “I found it extremely dull and boring, but then I was never told anything interesting about the Kings and certainly not the sort of anecdote you have just mentioned.”
“One is not taught personal details about Royalty,” Zosina replied. “One has to find it out in books.”
“I have no time to read,” the King said firmly.
They lapsed into silence and Zosina thought he was certainly very difficult. Perhaps the only person who could have coped with him would have been Katalin.
She would chatter on regardless of whether anybody answered her or not and always seemed able to find a new subject.
With almost a sigh of relief, she saw the Queen Mother turn from the Prime Minister to speak to the King.
Almost as if she was unable to prevent herself, Zosina turned back to the Regent.
“Do tell me about the gentleman with the huge moustache,” she pleaded.
She saw the Regent’s eyes were twinkling as he began the life story of the gentleman who she learned was one of the most redoubtable Generals in the Dórsian Army.
Afterwards, when the ladies withdrew to one of the exquisite salons, Zosina found herself sitting next to one of the King’s aunts, who she soon found was an irrepressible gossip.
The Princess chatted away about other members of the family, relating some of the most intimate details of their lives which Zosina was sure that the Regent would not have told her. “The woman with the dyed red hair is my cousin Lillie,” she said. “She was very pretty ten years ago, but now she is married to a terrible bore. What is more, he is deaf and everything has to be repeated three times. It also makes him shout, until in his presence I feel I am permanently standing in a barrack square!”
Zosina laughed, then the Princess said in a low voice,
“And what, dear child, do you think of my nephew Gyórgy?”
It was a question which Zosina was not expecting and for a moment she found it difficult to find words in which to reply.
Then, because she knew that the Princess was waiting, she said,
“I did not – expect His Majesty to be so – dark-haired.”
The Princess raised her eyebrows.
“Has no one told you that his mother was Albanian?”
“No,” Zosina answered.
“Oh dear, I see you have a lot to learn,” the Princess said. “My brother, the late King, who was the eldest of eight children, had unfortunately four daughters by his first marriage.”
“Like Papa!” Zosina remarked. “Exactly!” the Princess replied. “And very disagreeable it made him.”
Zosina was about to say again, ‘just like Papa’, but thought it would be indiscreet. “When the Queen died,” the Princess went on, “as you can imagine, it annoyed the Prime Minister and the Councillors when my brother announced that he intended to marry an Albanian Princess who none of us had ever heard of.”
“It must have been a surprise!” Zosina murmured.
“It certainly was, especially as we had always thought the Albanians to be a strange people, many of them being nothing but gypsies!”
There was so much disparagement in the Princess’s voice that Zosina looked at her in surprise. “However, my brother the King achieved what he had thought was an impossibility, when his second Queen produced a son and heir.”
“He must have
“Now I think of it, in history Kings have always gone about their countries in disguise. Francois I, for instance, used to go out every night, wandering round the town to mix with – his subjects.”
She was going to say, ‘to mix with beautiful women,’ which was what she remembered she had read in a somewhat racy French biography.
Then she thought to say such a thing would not only be indiscreet but perhaps somewhat improper.
“Who was Francois I?” the King asked.
“He was the King of France, Sire, in 1515.”
“I have never heard of him, but he obviously had the right ideas.”
“Are you interested in history?”
“No, I am not!” the King replied. “I found it extremely dull and boring, but then I was never told anything interesting about the Kings and certainly not the sort of anecdote you have just mentioned.”
“One is not taught personal details about Royalty,” Zosina replied. “One has to find it out in books.”
“I have no time to read,” the King said firmly.
They lapsed into silence and Zosina thought he was certainly very difficult. Perhaps the only person who could have coped with him would have been Katalin.
She would chatter on regardless of whether anybody answered her or not and always seemed able to find a new subject.
With almost a sigh of relief, she saw the Queen Mother turn from the Prime Minister to speak to the King.
Almost as if she was unable to prevent herself, Zosina turned back to the Regent.
“Do tell me about the gentleman with the huge moustache,” she pleaded.
She saw the Regent’s eyes were twinkling as he began the life story of the gentleman who she learned was one of the most redoubtable Generals in the Dórsian Army.
Afterwards, when the ladies withdrew to one of the exquisite salons, Zosina found herself sitting next to one of the King’s aunts, who she soon found was an irrepressible gossip.
The Princess chatted away about other members of the family, relating some of the most intimate details of their lives which Zosina was sure that the Regent would not have told her. “The woman with the dyed red hair is my cousin Lillie,” she said. “She was very pretty ten years ago, but now she is married to a terrible bore. What is more, he is deaf and everything has to be repeated three times. It also makes him shout, until in his presence I feel I am permanently standing in a barrack square!”
Zosina laughed, then the Princess said in a low voice,
“And what, dear child, do you think of my nephew Gyórgy?”
It was a question which Zosina was not expecting and for a moment she found it difficult to find words in which to reply.
Then, because she knew that the Princess was waiting, she said,
“I did not – expect His Majesty to be so – dark-haired.”
The Princess raised her eyebrows.
“Has no one told you that his mother was Albanian?”
“No,” Zosina answered.
“Oh dear, I see you have a lot to learn,” the Princess said. “My brother, the late King, who was the eldest of eight children, had unfortunately four daughters by his first marriage.”
“Like Papa!” Zosina remarked. “Exactly!” the Princess replied. “And very disagreeable it made him.”
Zosina was about to say again, ‘just like Papa’, but thought it would be indiscreet. “When the Queen died,” the Princess went on, “as you can imagine, it annoyed the Prime Minister and the Councillors when my brother announced that he intended to marry an Albanian Princess who none of us had ever heard of.”
“It must have been a surprise!” Zosina murmured.
“It certainly was, especially as we had always thought the Albanians to be a strange people, many of them being nothing but gypsies!”
There was so much disparagement in the Princess’s voice that Zosina looked at her in surprise. “However, my brother the King achieved what he had thought was an impossibility, when his second Queen produced a son and heir.”
“He must have
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