“My lady.” He gave me a very proper bow.

“Mr. O’Mara.” I inclined my head to reciprocate the greeting. (One never calls anybody honorable, even if they are.)

“Please forgive me,” he said, “but was I correct in addressing you as ‘my lady’ and not ‘your royal highness’? I’m never quite sure of the rules when it comes to dukes.”

I laughed. “Only the male children of royal dukes can use the HRH,” I said. “I, being a mere female, and my father not being a royal duke, even though of royal blood, am simply ‘my lady.’ But just plain Georgie will do.”

“Not at all plain Georgie. It was good of you to come. I assure you you won’t regret it.” He took my elbow and steered me through the crowd. “Now let’s get out of here. We look like a couple of peacocks in the hen coop.”

“Do you mind telling me where we’re going?”

“Grosvenor House.”

“Really? If you’re taking me to dine, isn’t it a little early, and if you’re taking me to tea, aren’t we overdressed?”

“I’m taking you to a wedding, as I promised.”

“A wedding?”

“Well, the reception part of it.”

“But I haven’t been invited.”

“That’s all right,” he said calmly as we started down Park Lane, “neither have I.”

I wrenched my arm free of him. “What? Are you out of your mind? We can’t go to a wedding reception to which we haven’t been invited.”

“Oh, it’s all right,” he said. “I do it all the time. Works like a charm.”

I eyed him suspiciously. He was grinning again. “How else would I get a decent meal once a week?”

“Let me get this straight. You intend to gate-crash a wedding at Grosvenor House?”

“Oh, yes. As I told you, there’s never a problem. If you look right and you speak with the right accent and you know how to behave, everyone takes it for granted you are a legitimate guest. The groom’s side thinks the bride’s must have invited you and vice versa. You, being absolutely top drawer—they’ll be proud and happy to have you there. Raises the tone of the whole occasion. Afterward they can say to each other, ‘I hope you noticed we had a member of the royal family present.’”

“Just a distant relative, Darcy.”

“Nonetheless, a catch. They’ll be thrilled, you’ll see.”

I pulled away from him. “I really can’t do this. It’s not right.”

“Are you backing out because it’s not right or because you’re afraid of getting caught?” he asked.

I glared at him. “I was brought up to behave properly, which may not have been the case in the wilds of Ireland.”

“You’re scared. You’re afraid there’s going to be a scene.”

“I am not. I just don’t think it’s the right thing to do.”

“Stealing their food by false pretense, you mean? As if anyone who can afford a wedding reception at Grosvenor House would notice if anyone took a couple of illegal slices of cold salmon.” He took my hand. “Come on, Georgie. Don’t back out on me now. And don’t say you’re not interested. Anyone who was attempting to eat one of Lyons’s scones is obviously in need of a good meal.”