“I’m afraid my typing is arduously slow and my shorthand is nonexistent,” she said as she came into the office. “I’m a good driver, though, and a dab hand with an engine, if that’s of any use.”

“Forgive me, Your Royal Highness,” said Iris. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“Of course not,” she said, smiling. “Do sit.”

“Not until you do, ma’am,” said Gwen.

“Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no one to see us. Let’s be normal.”

“I can’t,” said Gwen. “It’s ingrained in every fibre of my being. Tendons would rupture in protest if I so much as tried.”

She looked at the guest chair. “This will hold me?” she asked doubtfully.

“With honour, ma’am,” said Iris.

“Very well,” she said, sitting. “Now, the two of you. Please.”

Gwen sat while Iris restored her chair to its proper position.

“Forgive the surprise call, but this is not meant for public knowledge,” said their guest. “I received an unexpected visit yesterday from Lady Matheson. She was distraught. She had come to beg my forgiveness. I had no idea that there was anything to forgive, and told her as much. Then she confessed all.”

“Did she?” asked Iris. “All of it?”

“When I say ‘all,’ I mean that she confessed some, and concealed a great deal more, or so I suspect,” she continued. “Am I to gather that there had been some sort of plot to discredit Prince Philip?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Gwen. “Amongst other things.”

“And that she hired the two of you to investigate it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And that you were successful in thwarting it?”

“We were, ma’am.”

“So there will be no stain on his reputation as a result?”

“No, ma’am,” said Gwen. “His reputation is safe.”

“And well-deserved,” added Iris.

“Thank goodness,” she said in relief, suddenly looking like the twenty-year-old she was. “I don’t know what I would have—I think he’s going to propose, you see. I adore him, and he’s going to propose, and there are difficulties enough. I can’t let anything else get in the way.”

“This will not hinder you, we promise,” said Iris.

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you both.”

“It must have been a shock when Lady Matheson told you,” said Iris.

“Oh, one doesn’t grow up in a palace without acquiring a taste for intrigue,” she said. “I should have known she was screening my mail. I’ve put my foot down with Mother, so one of my ladies has taken over the task. It turns out that I’ve had several proposals already. None that I would ever accept, of course, but it’s good to know one is considered to be marriageable. I suppose you two are the experts on that. Any advice?”

“Marry for love,” said Gwen. “It sounds simple enough, but it isn’t.”

“No, it isn’t,” she agreed. “What do you think of Prince Philip?”

“Handsome, courageous, and intelligent,” said Iris. “You’re very lucky.”

“Assuming he pops the question,” she said.

“He would be a fool not to,” said Gwen.

“You’re very kind. He’s coming with us to Balmoral. I’m hoping it will happen there. If he doesn’t, maybe I’ll come here for a recommendation.”