The one thing there is not is a chance to be alone with Philip. They might be engaged but the days are always fully planned and after dinner the fiddles and bagpipes strike up in the sitting room while a space is cleared for Scottish reels. If Elizabeth is lucky, Philip will grab her hand and swing her into the dance, but it is not as if there is an opportunity to talk and they are soon spun away from each other as they circle in time to the music. Philip doesn’t seem to mind, and Elizabeth tells herself that it’s enough that he is enjoying himself.

But one evening just before he is due to return to duty, they play games instead of dancing. ‘Murder in the Dark!’ the King announces to laughter and gaiety.

‘What a good idea,’ Philip murmurs. He is standing close to her when the lights go out and she stifles a gasp as he pulls her deeper into the shadows and holds her tight.

‘Gotcha!’ he says softly, his mouth at her ear.

‘Are you the murderer?’ she whispers, dizzy at his nearness.

‘I don’t think so. But I’ve got you anyway.’

Chapter 43

London, October 1947

Philip tries not to favour his knee as he climbs the stairs to Elizabeth’s sitting room. He is still irritated with himself at the accident. A wet road, some autumn leaves and his camp record for the ninety-eight mile drive between Corsham and London has been blown. The twisted knee is a bore, but he is more worried about his precious car which came off the worst after its encounter with a hedge.

Thank Christ he’d been in his own car! If he’d been out in one of the cars from the Royal Mews, he would never have heard the end of it from the chauffeurs who cosset their vehicles like horses and shake their heads at the slightest dent or scratch. As it is, he has just had to endure some ribbing from the chaps in the Methuen Arms.

Elizabeth stayed in Scotland after his less than successful visit to Balmoral so he hasn’t seen her for a while. Philip hopes they will be able to recover the closeness they had when they were first engaged. Since the formal announcement, it feels to him as if the court has gone out of its way to keep Elizabeth hemmed in by protocol and tradition – and away from him. It is as if they think of her as the precious brood mare and he is the stallion, reluctantly drafted in to service but otherwise of no use or interest whatsoever.

He barely saw her in Scotland. He spent his days shooting grouse with the King instead. Elizabeth’s father seems obsessed with killing wildlife and given his evident lack of enthusiasm for the engagement, Philip thought it politic to make an effort to get on with him.

Much good it did him. Oh, the King was pleasant enough but the rest of the court made it plain what they thought of him. Philip was left feeling frustrated and out-manoeuvred. He was lucky if he got to touch Elizabeth’s hand when dancing those endless reels. At least Murder in the Dark gave him the opportunity to get a bit closer, but he’d had to be quick.