“I absolutely insist. You look tired and worried and I’m sure the food at Kensington Palace won’t be up to snuff. Royal food is always so stodgy and boring, I have found. Their chefs have no imagination. Mine, on the other hand, was lured from Paris.”

“I’m not dressed for dinner,” I said.

“One can see that. But we’re about the same size, aren’t we? Clotilde can find something of mine for you, I am sure.”

“I couldn’t possibly—” I began again, as I entertained visions of my spilling something down a Parisian silk gown.

“Now you are being difficult,” she said. “Darcy will tell you that I like to get my own way. As does he, does he not? Such a forceful young man.” And she gave me a self-satisfied smile. Then she glanced at her wristwatch and said, “I tell you what. My guests will not arrive for an hour. I’ll have my chauffeur run you back to the palace, you go and change into something more suitable and he’ll bring you back in time for dinner. Surely you can’t say no to that?”

“Thank you. I accept most gratefully.”

“Good,” she said. “I shall question you mercilessly, you know. I want to find out every detail about you and Darcy. How you met. How long you’ve known each other. Your plans for the future. I find it all so fascinating that he wants to settle down and give up such a pleasant and fancy-free lifestyle. Will you retire to the country and grow potatoes, do you think?”

“I have no idea what he has in mind,” I said, “but I can’t imagine Darcy settling down anywhere, can you?”

“Oh yes. I think I can see him as lord of the manor with ten children around him, being blissfully happy, much to the chagrin of all the young women in London.”

She rang the bell then. I was driven back to the palace in the same Armstrong Siddeley by an extremely good-looking German chauffeur whom the princess addressed as Fritzi. As we drove at a snail’s pace through the fog I kept wanting to tell Fritzi that I had changed my mind and would not be returning to dinner after all. The thought of facing a dinner party with the princess and her smart friends was overwhelming at this moment. They would all be dressed in the height of fashion. I’d feel like a fish out of water, terrified that I’d knock over a glass or spill the soup. And I would feel the princess’s eyes on me with that quizzical stare, wondering whatever Darcy could see in me. And what if he telephoned the palace while I was away, expecting to find me there? Would the servants hear the telephone in the front hall? Would they take a message properly?