Read "Mad Barbara" by Warwick Deeping online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
If the divine Hortense ruled his Majesty the King that year, her sway spread itself over the majority of those ambitious gentlemen who were in quest of "place" and plunder. When women exploited the state, and burst the bubble of a reputation with a kiss, politicians baited their interests with some new "beauty," and pinned their petitions to the flounce of a petticoat.
Castlemaine had faded into France; Portsmouth watched from behind a cloud; even the irrepressible Nell had prophesied the splendor of the Mancini's conquest. Hortense had landed at Torbay, and, like the exquisite romanticist that she was, had ridden up to London in man's attire with seven servants, a maid, and a black boy in attendance. What was of more significance, she had ridden at a canter into the august heart of Whitehall. The palace of St. James had held her for a season, till the Duke of York, with commendable brotherly discretion, had purchased Lord Windsor's house for her in the park, that such a brilliant might shine upon them from a fitting setting.