Siegfried, his pale blond hair slicked down, his military evening jacket adorned with more orders and medals than any general’s, strode into the room, marched up to Lady Mountjoy, clicked his heels, and bowed. “So kind,” he said. From her he went over to the Prince of Wales and clicked his heels again. They exchanged words in German and then Siegfried was brought over to me.

“I believe you already know Lady Georgiana, Your Highness?”

“Naturally. We meet again at last.” He bent to kiss my hand with those large, cold fish-lips. “You have been well, I trust?”

I was seething. The crafty old thing, I thought. She didn’t want me to spy on David at all. She planned this so that I would be thrust together with Siegfried again. She knew I’d wriggled out of the encounter in Scotland and she simply wasn’t going to let me escape. Well, you could lead a horse to water, but you can’t make her marry anyone she loathes.

I had, however, been well brought up. I was polite and attentive as Siegfried talked about himself. “I had brilliant skiing this winter. Where do you ski these days? I myself am a magnificent skier. I know no fear.”

The dinner gong sounded and we formed up to parade into the dining room. I, of course, was paired with Siegfried, right behind the prince and Lady Mountjoy. We took our places and my eyes strayed around the table. Who had been devious enough to tie that black thread across those stairs? It was a miracle I was still alive. If I had landed slightly differently, that ax would have come crashing down on me or I’d have broken my neck. I stared at Whiffy then Tristram. Neither one was what I’d call a live wire when it came to brains. But Belinda—she had been one of the cleverest girls in school. I shook my head in disbelief. Why on earth would Belinda want me dead?

There was one place still vacant at table. The moment I noticed it the door opened again.

“The Honorable Darcy O’Mara,” the butler announced and Darcy came in, looking dashing in his dinner suit.

“Mr. O’Mara,” Lady Mountjoy said as he presented himself to her with apologies. “You managed it after all. I am so glad. Do sit down. They are only just serving the soup.”

Darcy cast me the briefest of glances as he sat opposite me, then started talking to Marisa on his left. I felt that my cheeks were flaming. What was he doing here? Who had invited him and why?

Over the polite murmur of conversation I heard Mrs. Simpson’s strident voice. “So let me get this straight. Does one now have to call you ‘Frau’ or ‘your ladyship,’ or are you simply ‘Mrs.’?”

She was, of course, addressing my mother, who had unwisely been seated within firing range.