Irmtraut sighed. “It is the duty of royal persons to accept their marriage, no matter how disagreeable. She will do her duty, I know.” She looked up at me sharply. “But you—you will not do your duty, I think. You will try to marry this man who is a Catholic and thus forbidden to you.”

“I’m only thirty-fifth in line to the throne,” I said. “I hardly think it will matter to the crowned heads of Europe who I marry. But yes, I do plan to marry for love.”

I don’t know where this conversation would have gone but a door opened behind us and a maid came into the hall. She stopped in surprise seeing me there.

“Your ladyship.” She curtsied. “We didn’t expect you. We were told you had already departed and would send for your maid and your things.”

“I had to return unexpectedly,” I said. “I have to deliver the motorcar back to its owner but then I would like something to eat. Can you tell Cook that I would like some dinner sent up to my room when I return, please. Something warm and nourishing. I have been traveling all day.”

She squirmed in embarrassment. “I’m afraid it’s only leftovers, my lady. We were instructed to clean out the kitchen. They’re shutting up the whole apartment, you know. There was enough stew for the countess here, but . . .”

I hesitated. I was tired. I was emotionally exhausted and I really didn’t want to go out looking for food. I knew that other apartments in the palace were occupied by my royal great-aunts; in fact the Prince of Wales referred to them as the “Aunt Heap.” They would undoubtedly be sitting down to good meals tonight. But I also knew that those royal ladies were hot on protocol and one did not visit uninvited.

“I’m sure Cook will do her best and find something for me when I return,” I said. I was going to ask her to send for my maid to have my suitcase carried up to my room, but in the current circumstances it seemed easier to carry it myself. Heaven knew what Queenie had been up to while I had been away. Two days would have been long enough for a few disasters. I went up the two flights of stairs and opened the door to my room. I didn’t really expect to find Queenie there. But I did expect to find a fire burning in the grate. Instead my trunk was sitting on top of my bed, the curtains were closed and the room was freezing. Hardly a warm welcome home.

I went over to the wall and tugged on the bellpull, feeling decidedly irritated now. It was the maid who had spoken to me in the front hall who appeared long before Queenie—naturally.