“Help yourselves, my dears,” the queen said and took a piece of malt bread herself. To my amazement and delight, the dowager duchess leaned across and put two large cakes on her own plate. “I think I’ll dispense with the sandwiches and go straight to the good stuff since I have to dine at the Savoy and there’s always so much food,” she said.

I was trying to work out how I could lean across to take any kind of food without spilling my tea. I hastily drank the top two inches, although it was a little too hot, and managed to take a watercress sandwich.

“Now, Georgiana,” the queen said. “I expect you’re wondering what you are doing here with two elderly ladies like us. The truth is that a tricky problem has arisen and you’d be just the person to help sort it out. Would you like to apprise Georgiana of the situation, Edwina?”

“Thank you, ma’am,” the Duchess of Eynsford said, wiping cream from the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “You see, Georgiana—if I may call you by your first name—it’s like this. Two years ago my dear husband, the Duke of Eynsford, died. The title and property passed to my son Cedric. Cedric is no longer in the first flush of youth; in fact, he is approaching fifty.”

My heart rose to my mouth. They want to marry me off to a man of fifty!

“Approaching fifty,” she repeated, “and has flatly refused to do his duty and produce an heir. He told his father and me outright that he saw no reason to share his bed with an unappealing horse-faced female just to ensure the continuation of an outmoded title.”

“It’s the current generation,” the queen said and they exchanged a look. “No sense of duty. We were brought up to put duty above all things. When I was told to marry the king’s older brother, the Duke of Clarence, I agreed, although I found him not to my taste. Between ourselves, I was most relieved when he died of influenza before the wedding, and it was suggested that I marry his brother instead. His Majesty and I have been most content, which proves that duty need not be a chore.”

“We suffer together in our disappointment, don’t we, ma’am?” the duchess said. “Each of us with sons unwilling to step up and do their duty for the greater good. Although the Prince of Wales is still young enough to marry and produce the heir.”

The queen gave a refined little snort. “He has turned forty, Edwina. And as long as that dreadful Simpson woman is in the picture, he won’t even look at another woman. Truly, I sometimes wish we were back in the dark ages, where I could dispatch the royal assassin to dispose of her on a dark night. But then he’d probably find someone else just as disagreeable.”

“At least you have other sons,” the duchess said. “You already have grandchildren.”