It wasn’t until I approached the arch and was swallowed into complete darkness that I began to have second thoughts. It’s all very well to be brave when looking from a lighted window. Going under a dark archway where someone was recently murdered is another matter. I told myself that Bobo’s murder had nothing to do with the palace, but all the same my nerve almost gave out as I peered into the gloom. The gap between the curtains in my own window painted only a small stripe of light across the far side of the courtyard. Not enough to cut through the total blackness ahead of me. I stopped in front of the archway. No, I wasn’t going to venture in there. If a ghost or a person was moving around, it was none of my business.

“It was probably only a maid returning from an evening off,” I thought. “Going into the back door of the princess’s apartment.” And I laughed at my own terror.

Then without warning I was grabbed from behind, spun around and pushed up against the cold, damp wall of the archway. Before I had time to cry out, cold lips were kissing mine. It only took a second of terror in which my heart stopped beating before I recognized those lips.

I struggled, broke free and tried to push him away. “Don’t you dare try to win me over in such an underhanded fashion, Darcy O’Mara.” I could make out his eyes now, glinting at me like a cat’s. “And what do you mean by following me here and then skulking around?”

“I followed you because I had to set things straight,” he said. His eyes were flashing dangerously now. “And I was skulking, as you put it, to see if there was a way in without alerting the entire household. I never have got the hang of this place. It’s like a warren. I didn’t want to burst in on one of your aunts by mistake.”

“You can’t set things straight,” I said. “It’s over, Darcy. I know our kind of people like to go in for bed-hopping, but not me. I don’t ever want to play that sort of game. I’m not prepared to share you. I’d rather marry Prince Siegfried. At least I know where I’d stand there.”

He was still holding me fiercely, his fingers digging into my arms. “Look, Georgie, you knew when you met me that I wasn’t a saint. I’m a healthy, red-blooded male, and as you said, our sort are not prudish. Bed-hopping is a recognized sport. But I don’t know why this is upsetting you so much now.”

“You don’t know? You and Bobo Carrington, and I shouldn’t be upset?”

“Of course not. It’s all old hat. She meant nothing to me.”