“It’s only for a weekend, Fig.”

“Binky, I do wish these horrid common Americanisms were not creeping into your conversation. Next thing we know you’ll be teaching Podge to say ‘mirror’ instead of ‘looking glass’ and ‘serviette’ instead of ‘napkin.’”

“God forbid, Fig. It’s just that the word ‘weekend’ does seem to sum it up quite nicely, doesn’t it? I mean, what other word do we have for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday?”

“It implies that we are slaves to a week’s labor, which we aren’t. But don’t try to change the subject. I think it’s damned cheek on the part of HM.”

“She’s only trying to help. Something has to be done for Georgie.”

Now I was truly attentive.

“I agree she can’t spend the rest of her life moping around here and doing crossword puzzles.” Fig’s sharp voice echoed alarmingly, making one of the pipes hum. “But then on the other hand, she could prove useful with little Podge. It would mean we wouldn’t have to hire a governess for him before he goes to prep school. I suppose they must have taught her something at that ridiculously expensive establishment in Switzerland.”

“You can’t use my sister as an unpaid governess, Fig.”

“Everybody has to pull their weight these days, Binky, and quite frankly she’s not doing anything else, is she?”

“What do you expect her to do, draw pints behind the local bar?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I want to see your sister happily settled as much as you do. But being told I have to invite a prince here for a house party, in the hopes of foisting him upon Georgiana—really, that is too much, even for HM.”

Now I positively had my ear pressed against the pipes. The only prince that came to mind was my cousin David, the Prince of Wales. He was certainly a good catch, to whom I certainly wouldn’t say no. It’s true he was a good deal older than I, and not quite as tall either, but he was witty and a splendid dancer. And kind too. I’d even be prepared to wear flat-heeled shoes for the rest of my life.

“I would say it was a great deal of expense wasted on a hopeless cause.” Fig’s sharp voice again.

“I wouldn’t call Georgie a hopeless cause. She’s a splendid-looking girl. A little tall for the average chap, maybe, a little gawky still, but healthy, good bones, not stupid. A damned sight brainier than I, if the truth be known. She’ll make a great wife for the right fellow.”

“She’s turned down everyone we’ve found for her so far. What makes you think she’ll be interested in this Siegfried?”

“Because he’s a prince, and heir to the throne.”

“What throne? They murdered their last king.”

“There is talk of reinstatement of the royal family in the near future. Siegfried is next in line.”

“The royal family won’t last long enough for him to succeed. They’ll all be murdered again.”

“Enough of this, Fig. And we don’t need to mention any of this to Georgie either. Her Majesty has requested and one does not turn down a request from HM. A simple little house party, that’s all. For Prince Siegfried and some of his English acquaintances. Enough young men so that Georgie doesn’t get wind of our plans for her right away.”