He still hasn’t said anything of his feelings. Elizabeth just doesn’t know. Gossip has started about his frequent visits to Buckingham Palace. It’s inevitable, her mother says. Someone has noticed his car coming and going, or perhaps one of servants has been indiscreet. It could even be someone within their social circle.

Ignore it, is her mother’s advice but the Queen doesn’t want there to be a story. She wants it to be a rumour that can just be dismissed.

It’s different for Elizabeth. It might be easier if she were sure of what Philip felt, but as it is, she feels exposed and raw. Only a week earlier, she was asked to open a factory. As soon as she got out of the car, she could see the public lined up to watch her walk to the entrance, their faces alight with avid curiosity.

‘Where’s Philip?’ they yelled.

Elizabeth was horrified. Her feelings for Philip are her own. She kept her expression blank with an effort but inside she was shaking with a mixture of horror, outrage, and disgust. How dare they ask her something so personal? How dared they?

‘Crawfie, it was horrible!’ Nearly in tears, she had told her governess what had happened when she got back to the palace.

Crawfie tried to convince her that the crowd wasn’t aggressive or rude or as threatening as they appeared. ‘I know it seems intrusive, but they don’t mean any harm,’ she said. ‘They’re just cheerful and interested.’

It didn’t feel like that to Elizabeth. It felt as if the people leaning over the barriers and asking about Philip had pushed into her mind and smeared grubby hands all over her most private thoughts.

Her feelings for Philip are hers. They don’t belong to anyone else. Those insensitive questions about him have tarnished something precious to her. Now Elizabeth can’t bear the thought of going out and being exposed to similar questions.

She isn’t a fool. She suspects the reason she found the calls about Philip’s whereabouts so offensive is that she didn’t know the answer. She didn’t know where Philip was. She doesn’t know what he feels. He comes to supper at the palace. He is charming. He makes her feel happy.

But what does he feel?

Determinedly, Elizabeth pushes the memory of that disastrous factory visit from her mind. She is not at the factory now and there are no crowds shouting questions at her. She is with Philip and he is holding her close and that is all that matters. His cheek is almost, almost, resting on her hair and she can see the pulse beating steadily beneath his ear, where his jaw meets his throat. Elizabeth lets herself relax against him. The party has receded and it is as if the two of them are quite alone, dancing in a bubble of air.

When the music ends, Philip doesn’t let her go immediately. Slowly she lifts her eyes and they look at each other, still mid sway.