“I was wondering if there could be others in that category,” mused Gwen. “Frustrated wartime affairs and the like. He’s in the navy. We would have to check every port.”

“I think our best bet is to take the letter at face value for now,” said Iris. “The threat stems from something in his mother’s past. I thought the handwriting was quite coarse in nature.”

“But the stationery was from Smythson’s, and they sell to quality,” said Gwen. “So whoever wrote this was faking the coarseness. There were no misspellings.”

“No, there weren’t,” agreed Iris. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean that it was written by someone of quality. It could have been someone with access to someone else’s stationery, which opens the doors to servants, staff, friends. I wonder if Lady Matheson brought in a handwriting expert.”

“Might be worth the suggestion, although she may not want to bring any more outsiders into this affair. What did you make of her?”

“Condescending as hell in an outwardly courteous way, which suits her for her present environment. It never occurred to me that the Queen would have someone like her, but it makes sense. They all need someone to clean up their messes behind the scenes, even if they’re wearing white gloves while they’re doing it.”

“What about this Talbot fellow? We don’t have anything other than his name and that he must have some connection to the prince’s family.”

“Especially to his mother. Some scandal in her past, perhaps? That could scotch the engagement before it even happens. The odd thing—”

She stopped, putting her fingers to her brow, staring into her palms. Gwen waited for the lightning to strike.

“I’m not certain,” said Iris finally, “but the name rings a soft, muted chime somewhere in the distant recesses of my memory.”

“Something you can talk about, or something stored in the secret archives?” asked Gwen

“The latter. I should ask Sally. Which reminds me, we have his play reading tonight.”

“Yes. I’m trying not to think about it.”

“Why?”

“I’ll be performing in front of people. I’m not a professional actress.”

“It’s just a small gathering of writer and actor friends in his living room. No critical reviews after, at least not for us. It should be fun.”

“You know very well that I don’t like fun,” said Gwen in a sepulchral tone.

“Come on. It’s for Sally.”

“Yes, for dear Sally,” said Gwen. “I shall set aside my fears. Well, General, what’s our next step until then?”

“We need to know the basics about the prince and his past. I think that I shall toddle off to the library and do some research.”

“I’ll go with you,” offered Gwen.

“No, no need,” said Iris. “Division of labour. You man the office, I’ll dive into the stacks.”

“We don’t have any appointments this afternoon,” said Gwen. “We can split the research.”

“Have you ever done research of this nature?”

“No, but you could show me where—”

“Look, I’ve been trained in this, and it would be much quicker if I did it on my own.”