I had to agree that I was now feeling the cold, especially since the champagne down my front hadn’t quite dried yet. And no maid to sponge away the stains. What was I going to do about that?

He took my hand and dragged me across the traffic at Hyde Park Corner.

“Well, here I am,” I said unnecessarily as I stood outside my front door and fumbled in my purse for the key. As usual in moments of stress, my fingers weren’t obeying very well. “Thank you for a lovely afternoon.”

“Don’t thank me, thank the Asquey d’Asqueys. They paid for it. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“I don’t think I’d better. I’m living alone, you see.”

“And you’re not even allowed to have a young man in for a cup of tea? I didn’t realize the royal rules were still so strict.”

“It’s not royal rules.” I laughed nervously. “It’s just that—I’m afraid none of the rooms fit for entertaining are open. And I have no servants yet. I’m just sort of camping out in one bedroom and the kitchen, where my culinary talents don’t stretch beyond baked beans and tea. I did take cooking classes at school, but all useless items like petit fours that I never could master.”

“I prefer petit fives myself,” he said, making me smile.

“I never learned to make those either.”

I glanced into the gloomy interior of the front hall and then back at Darcy. The thought of being alone with him was tempting. Twenty-one years of training won out. “Thank you for a lovely afternoon,” I said again, and held out my hand. “Good-bye then.”

“Good-bye then? ” He gave me the most appealing little lost boy look. I almost melted. But not quite. “Look, Darcy, I would love to invite you in, but it is getting late, and . . . you do understand, don’t you?”

“Turned out alone into the snow. How cruel.” He pulled a tragic face.

“You said five minutes ago that it was a lovely afternoon.”

“Ah well,” he said. “I can see you’re not going to be moved whatever I say. Twenty-one years of royal upbringing. Never mind, there will be other occasions.” He took my hand, brought it to his lips, and this time he kissed it, sending a shiver all the way up my arm.

“If you like, I’ll take you to a party at the Café de Paris next week,” he said casually, releasing my hand again.

“Are you crashing this one too?”

“Of course. It’s given by Americans. They just love British nobility. When they hear you are related to the royal family, they’ll be kissing your feet and plying you with cocktails and inviting you to stay on their ranches. Will you come?”

“I expect so.”

“I can’t remember which day, offhand. I’ll let you know.”

“All right,” I said. I lingered, feeling awkward. “Thank you again.

“The pleasure was all mine.” He made that somehow sound sinful. I fled into the house before he caught me blushing again. As I closed the door behind me and stood in that cold, dark front hall with its black and white checked floor and dark embossed walls, a disturbing thought came into my mind. It occurred to me that Darcy might now be using me to gate-crash even more events. Perhaps I was now a guaranteed entry ticket to places he had been barred from before.