“A whiskey,” Mr. Simpson growled. “And better make it a double while you’re at it.”

I wondered why he still bothered to accompany her when everyone in London society knew about his wife and the prince. Surely it must have felt most embarrassing. For that matter, why hadn’t he divorced her yet? Perhaps chivalry was not dead and he was waiting for her to divorce him. Or perhaps she still needed his money to fund her expensive clothing habit.

Albert handed us our drinks and Gussie steered the prince in our direction. “I expect you’ve met your new sister-in-law, sir,” he said. “And of course you know Georgiana.”

“Hello, sir,” I said.

“What-ho, Georgie. Looking stylish tonight.” The prince nodded to me then took Marina’s hand. “Actually we haven’t met yet. How do you do, Marina? So glad to meet you at last. You’re far too good for my brother, of course. Make sure you make him toe the line, what?”

“So pleased to meet you at last, David,” she said. “However, I’m not sure it’s always an easy task to make royal princes toe the line, as you put it.” She was wonderful, wasn’t she?

The prince grinned appreciatively and introduced Mrs. Simpson. Her husband had already melted into the crowd, nursing his double whiskey.

“Why, you’re not at all what we expected, is she, David?” Mrs. Simpson said, holding on to Marina’s hand. “So elegant. So composed. And that gown—it had to come from Paris!”

“From Worth,” Marina said.

“See, David. What did I tell you? You can’t find anything fashionable in London. One really has to have a flat in Paris to pop across and buy clothes.”

“Oh, I disagree,” Marina said. “Molyneux is making my wedding dress and it’s absolutely lovely. And Georgiana and I had great fun at Harrods this morning buying things for my trousseau.”

Mrs. Simpson turned that formidable gaze onto me.

“You’re also looking quite elegant these days, Georgiana, honey,” she said. “I take it Mummy helped you choose that gown. Is she still around or did she stay on to become a star in Hollywood?”

“She decided that America wasn’t for her,” I replied. “It was all too fake and insincere. I think she prefers a place where class can’t be bought with mere money.”

I saw the glint of venom in those dark eyes. “My, my, we are sharpening our claws these days, are we not? But don’t get too catty, honey. Men don’t want a woman who is too sharp for a wife. Especially the sort of man you’ll wind up marrying.” She took a long sip of her drink and gave David a smoldering glance over her cocktail glass. “They like to be babied, cosseted, made a fuss of, don’t they, David?”