On Alexandra’s part, there was perhaps a willingness to be deceived. For almost half a century, she had been required to display unusual forbearance in the face of Edward’s serial infidelities. Frequently dismissed as a featherbrain, she was sufficiently astute to realise the surest way to alienate his affection would be to cause a scene. ‘Jealousy,’ she had once written, ‘is the bottom of all mischief and misfortune in this world.’1 Well-practised in the art of turning a blind eye, she was alternately cordial and cool to her husband’s mistresses, tolerating liaisons she had every reason to
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