“Oh, of course. The house party. The Prince of Wales. So much has happened in the past few days that it had slipped my mind.”

“But you do still plan to attend? In spite of the current unhappy circumstances?”

“If Your Majesty wants me to, I’ll be happy to oblige.”

“Of course I want you to, and a few days in the country will do you good, and whisk you away from the scrutiny of the gutter press. Everything I hear about this woman is repugnant to me. I must know the truth, Georgiana, before the king and I attempt to nip any hint of romance in the bud.”

“I have met her already,” I said.

She removed the spectacles and leaned closer. “You have?”

“Yes, she came to my friend’s clothing design salon.”

“And?”

“She was horribly unpleasant. I couldn’t stand her.”

“Ah. Just as I thought. Well, by the end of this house party I hope she’ll have laid out enough rope to hang herself. Oh, dear, not a good metaphor, given the current situation. Come to tea on Monday. I should be back from opening a mother and baby clinic in the East End by three. Shall we say four o’clock? Then we can exchange news.”

“Very good, ma’am.” I got to my feet.

“I’ll ring for Heslop to escort you out. Until Monday, then. And don’t forget—you are my eyes and ears. I am relying on you to be my spy.”

The moment I got home, Fig peppered me with questions.

“Her Majesty has a plan to rescue Binky, does she?”

“Yes, she’s going to disguise the king as Robin Hood and have him swing into Scotland Yard from Big Ben.”

“Don’t be facetious, Georgiana. Honestly, your manners have become appalling these days. I told Binky it was a waste of money to send you to that awful and expensive school.”

“If you must know, Fig, it wasn’t anything to do with Binky. It was something to do with the house party she wants me to attend on Friday.”

I could see right away that this really upset her. “A house party? Her Majesty is inviting you to house parties these days?”

“Not inviting me. Sending me on her behalf,” I said, enjoying every moment of this.

Fig’s face was positively puce. “You are now representing Her Majesty at an official function? You, with a mother who was only a chorus girl?”

“Never a chorus girl, Fig. An actress. Maybe she thinks I’ve inherited my mother’s talent for being friendly and gracious in public. Not everybody has that quality, you know.”