‘Come on, Philip, you must have known what marrying Lilibet would involve.’

Irritated by the fact that his cousin is right, Philip jerks his shoulder. ‘Yes, yes, of course I did, but I wasn’t thinking about that, was I? I was focused on getting the King to agree to the engagement.’

He has had his eyes fixed on the goal for so long, he realises, that he hasn’t thought beyond it. Now that he has what he wanted, it is as if he has climbed to the top of a mountain and looked around to see that the only way forward is down.

‘Cheer up,’ David says. ‘There are bound to be some compensations being married to someone who’s going to be one of richest women in world one day. Maybe you’ll be able to afford a decent wardrobe at last.’

‘There have already been some rather pointed comments about that.’ Philip tries to shrug off his ridiculously despondent mood. ‘Apparently it’s been noticed that my flannel trousers haven’t been pressed, and horror of horrors, sometimes my sleeves are rolled up.’

‘What about the fact that you stuff your hands in your pockets?’

‘What’s the point of pockets if you can’t put your hands in them?’

‘You don’t have to jam them in so the jacket’s all out of shape,’ David points out and Philip scowls at him.

‘We can’t all be damned dandies!’

‘You’re going to have to sharpen up your act, cousin,’ David says, smirking at Philip’s discomfiture. ‘You’ll have to learn to tie your tie properly, pick up your clothes … and buy some decent socks! Those things you wear are a disgrace.’

Philip’s feet are propped on the coffee table. Lifting one, he regards the sock. It is liberally darned and his big toe is starting to poke through at the end again. ‘Plenty of life in these yet,’ he says. ‘Besides, haven’t you heard of rationing, David? We’re supposed to be making do and mending.’

David rolls his eyes. ‘I just hope you’re not planning to wear that tennis shirt for dinner at the palace tonight?’

‘That’s what naval uniform is for,’ Philip says.

A special dinner to mark the betrothal has been hastily arranged at Buckingham Palace for that night. It is going to be a glittering affair and afterwards he and Elizabeth will make an appearance on the balcony to wave at the anticipated crowds. It will just be the start, Philip knows. His life will never be the same again.

But there is no going back now.

Chapter 40

Buckingham Palace, July 1947

The crowds are already gathering around the Victoria Monument as Bobo zips up Elizabeth’s white ball gown and twitches the long skirts into place. Elizabeth stands patiently, turning her engagement ring on her finger, but inside she is trembling with anticipation. Her betrothal dinner. It is really happening at last. She glances at the ring, turning her hand to catch the reassuring glint of the diamonds as she has done most of the day, just to convince herself her engagement is real.