“It won’t happen again, I swear. The last thing I wish is to scare you off. You are doing so much good here, I would hate to jeopardise that.”

Ought she to have been frightened? Should she now be having a fit of the vapours? What she certainly, definitely should not be doing was wishing that he would kiss her again. “Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen,” Margaret said, knowing that was what she ought to say, even if it was likely to prove impossible.

But Sebastian cast her a grateful look. “Thank you. You are an angel.”

A soft tap at the door precluded her refuting this claim. “Begging your pardon, Father,” Esther said, “but Mrs. Powers is desperate for a word. Says it’s a matter of life or death.”

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Marlborough House, Home of the Prince and Princess of Wales, London, Thursday, 22 March 1866

THE DRAWING-ROOM OF MARLBOROUGH HOUSE was a vast space littered with gilded chairs, sofas, and chaise-longues. Artful clusters of tables were strewn with albums, Sèvres figures, and enamelled snuff-boxes. The potted palms were so tall they almost brushed the ornately corniced ceilings. The upholstery was embroidered with gold thread, the windows draped with thick velvet. Margaret and her mother had been invited by Alexandra, Princess of Wales, to take informal tea with the queen, who would be accompanied, as always, by Louise.

“You are the only guests,” Alix informed them when they arrived. “Lady Margaret, you are to take tea with Louise separately. Her Majesty is eager to hear the details of your sister’s lying-in from your mother. You did bring Lady Kerr’s letter with you, Duchess?”

“I have it here,” Mama said, holding up her reticule. “It is unusually frank and quite unfit for the ears of any unmarried woman. I commend your idea of seating Margaret and Louise separately.”

“Talking of seating,” Alix said, frowning at the elaborately laid tea-table, “I am not sure where to place Her Majesty. The day is cold and I have had the fire lit, but as you know the queen does not like the room to be too hot.”

“Oh no, she cannot abide the direct heat. I suggest you place her here,” Mama said, pointing, “and then if you have the table moved over there, you can take that seat, and I shall risk being lightly toasted by the fire.”

“Thank you, an excellent plan.”

Margaret watched, fascinated, as Alix summoned several footmen to carefully dismantle the elaborately laid tea-table, move it, and then replace everything, a process that took several minutes. Her Majesty’s place was marked by not one but two tea-cups and saucers, for it was her habit to pour her tea from one cup to another until it was adequately cooled.

“My goodness, are you sure we are the only guests?” Margaret asked, her eyes wide at the volume and variety of food being set out.