Fig sighed. “I can’t understand why you still have that dreadful creature as your maid. She simply isn’t up to snuff, Georgiana. She discredits the whole family.”

“You know why, Fig,” I replied. “I have no money. No allowance. Nothing. I cannot employ a decent maid. Queenie works pretty much for her room and board.”

Fig scowled. “I don’t know why you are telling me this. It is not your brother’s duty to support a spinster female sister. The family paid for your season. You turned twenty-one. All our obligations ended there. It is not our fault that you have failed to make a suitable marriage. Heaven knows the family has tried hard enough on your behalf.”

“Nobody that I would describe as suitable, Fig, as I told you once before.” I was referring to Prince Siegfried (usually known to my friends as Fishface), who’d made it clear to me that if I produced an heir he’d never bother me again.

She sighed. “You didn’t happen to meet any good prospects at the wedding, did you? There were quite a few young Continental chaps in evidence from what I could see. Of course, we were not invited to the reception at the palace, but I understand that you were.” Another withering look.

“I am capable of finding my own chap, thank you, Fig.”

“You mean that O’Mara person? I hope his name will not be mentioned again in this house. You do know that his father is a murderer? A common criminal, Georgiana. You must put all thoughts of him aside.”

“His father is accused of murder,” I said. “Innocent until proven guilty.”

“You know what they always say: Like father, like son.” She nodded as if she had scored a point.

“I think I’ll go up and see the children in the nursery,” I said.

“So how long do you think you will be staying?” she asked as I stood up.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “My plans are a little up in the air, as usual.”

“Only we won’t be here much longer ourselves,” Fig said with something close to a smirk on her face.

“I thought you were having central heating put in at Castle Rannoch and you were going to spend Christmas in London.”

“That was the original plan,” she said. “But now my sister, Ducky—you remember Ducky, don’t you?”

“Very well,” I said, trying not to shudder. Fig’s family all seemed to be as unpleasant as she was.

“Well, Ducky also received her share of the inheritance from our aunt and she has bought a small villa in Nice. Not as grand as your mother’s, of course. But somewhere to go in the winter. And they have asked us to join them. We’ll be going out there at the end of the week.”