Lynden Manor has been requisitioned like so many other stately homes for the duration of the war, but at least David will be able to claim it again when the war is over. Philip will have nowhere to go home to.

‘Then you should enjoy Windsor Castle. The wine is good too.’

‘And what about the company?’ David swivels in the passenger seat to study Philip’s profile. ‘What’s she like?’

‘Who?’ As if he doesn’t know who David means.

‘Elizabeth. She was just a little girl the last time I saw her. All tweedy skirts and sensible shoes with socks. Has she grown up?’

Philip changes down a gear as they come up to a sharp bend. ‘She has,’ he confirms with a sidelong grin.

‘And?’

‘And … she’s nice.’

‘Nice?’ David scoffs. ‘I didn’t think you liked nice girls.’

‘I like Elizabeth. I do,’ he insists when his cousin rolls his eyes. ‘She’s not like other girls. She’s serious. She holds herself back. I don’t think she lets many people close.’

‘Should be a good match for you then,’ says David with a wry look.

‘Quite.’ A long, straight stretch of road comes up and Philip puts his food down, enjoying the feel of the little car beneath his hands. The hedgerows flicker past and the road is striped by the low winter sun. ‘She’s still very young, though.’

‘Is she a looker? It’s hard to tell in photographs.’

‘She is when she smiles. She’s got lovely skin. A nice figure. Very blue eyes.’

‘Sounds promising. I might have a crack at her myself. Cut you out.’

‘Ha! You wouldn’t stand a chance, David,’ says Philip, grinning.

‘Why not, pray? I have plenty of charm and address when I choose to use it.’ Which was, of course, all too true.

‘Forget it. You’re not a prince.’

‘I would be if George V hadn’t made my grandfather renounce his royal title.’ David settles back into his seat, unfazed by the speed at which they were travelling. ‘What a fuss that must have caused, the transformation of the princes of Battenberg into mere Mountbattens. No wonder Grandmama never got over it. Mind you, I’m damned glad not to be saddled with a Jerry name now we’re at war again.’

‘You don’t do too badly as Marquess of Milford Haven,’ Philip pointed out and David gave a smug smile.

‘I suppose not.’

‘Anyway, you’re not Elizabeth’s type.’

‘And you are?’

‘I could be.’

David stares at him. ‘Good God, Philip, you’re not serious are you? I thought that was just one of Dickie’s barmy ideas to restore the Mountbatten fortunes.’

‘Well, as he’s always pointing out, I don’t have a lot of options. I’m a prince without a country. I’ve barely been to Greece even if the monarchy were welcome there, which it isn’t. Uncle George is still in exile and likely to remain there. I feel British, but I’m not, so I can’t stay in the Navy. All I’ve got is a title and a lieutenant’s salary for the duration of the war. You’ve got to admit that marrying the greatest heiress in the world would solve some of these problems.’