“Absolutely. The poor thing is dragged around like a dog on a leash.”

Marisa made a face. “Just don’t let me drink too much and make a fool of myself in front of HRH. You know what I’m like.”

We reached the first landing—a grand affair with marble busts in niches and a noble corridor going off in both directions. “You’re down here, Georgie,” Imogen said. “You get the royal treatment in the best bedrooms, along with HRH. The rest of us are up another floor, slumming it.”

“I hope certain other guests will also be on this floor,” Belinda whispered, “or there will be a lot of creeping up and down stairs during the night.”

“I’m not sure it’s reached the creeping-up-and-down stage yet,” Imogen said. “But I can tell you that a certain married couple has been given rooms on this floor, only on the other side of the great staircase, so it will still be a long hike, and cold feet on the marble floor.” Imogen giggled. “If you hear a shriek, Georgie, that’s what it will be—cold feet.”

My room was at the far end of the corridor. It was quite delightful, with bay windows overlooking the lake and the park. My clothes had already been unpacked and put away.

“Did you bring your maid or do you want me to send one down to dress you?” Imogen asked.

“My maid’s still in Scotland, but I’ve learned to dress myself,” I said.

“Have you? Clever you.”

“My maid’s arriving by train,” Belinda said. “You can borrow her if you like.”

I could sense the strain between Belinda and myself and didn’t know if it all came from me. I noticed she hadn’t been her normal friendly self.

“We’ll leave you to change then, while I take these two to their humble abodes up above,” Imogen said. “Cocktails at seven. Have a nice rest first.” At the doorway she turned back. “Oh, and there’s a little staircase right beside your room, which actually leads into the long gallery, where we’ll be having cocktails.”