The queen still didn’t look up from the glass case. “Your brother, the current duke, I suppose has little interest in objets d’art and antiques?” she asked casually. “He was raised to be like his grandfather—huntin’, shootin’, fishin’—the typical country squire.”

“That’s certainly true, ma’am.”

“So it’s possible that any number of Ming vases might still be lying around Castle Rannoch—unappreciated?”

There was the slightest of quivers in her voice and I suddenly understood where this conversation was going. She wanted to get her hands on items she lacked in her own collection. She confirmed this by saying, oh so casually, “I wondered if, next time you were home, you could take a look around. There is a smaller vase just like this one that would fit so well in this display. And if your brother isn’t really interested . . .”

You want me to pinch it for you, I was dying to say. Her Majesty had an absolute passion for antiques and if she had not been Queen of England and Empress of India, she might have been one of the most skillful hagglers in the history of the antiques trade. Of course she possessed a trump card nobody else held. If she expressed admiration for any object, protocol demanded that it be presented to her. Most noble families hid the good stuff when a royal visit was imminent.

“I won’t be going back to Castle Rannoch often anymore, ma’am,” I said tactfully. “Now that the house has passed to Hamish and he is married, it isn’t really my home.”

“A great pity,” she said. “But surely you’ll pay a visit when you come to stay with us at Balmoral this summer. You will be coming to Balmoral, I take it?”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be delighted.”

How could one refuse? When one was invited to Balmoral, one went. And the dreaded invitation fell on one or another of us relations every summer. Every summer we tried to come up with suitable excuses as to why we couldn’t be there. These ranged from yachting on the Med to making a visit to the colonies. It is rumored that one female relative actually managed to have a baby during the Balmoral season each year, although I think this was being a little excessive. It really wasn’t that bad for one brought up at Castle Rannoch. The tartan wallpaper, tartan carpets, the bagpipes at dawn, and the chill wind blasting in through open windows only reminded me of home. Others found it hard to endure, however.

“Then we may go over to Glenrannoch together. Such a pretty drive, I always think.” She ushered me away from the glass cases and over to a small tea table. I must remind myself to write to Binky to warn him to lock up the best china and silver this summer I decided. “In fact, I rather suspect that my son David might have it in mind to persuade your brother to invite a certain woman to stay at Castle Rannoch this summer. David knows perfectly well that she would not be welcome at Balmoral, and Castle Rannoch is conveniently close by.” She touched my arm as I pulled out a chair for her to sit down. “And I use the word ‘woman’ advisedly, because she certainly is no lady,” she whispered. “An American adventuress, twice married already.” She sighed as she took a seat. “Why he can’t find someone suitable and settle down I simply can’t understand. He’s not getting younger and I would like to see him settled before he has to take the throne. Why can’t he marry someone like you, for example? You’d do very well.”