That was true enough. It was hard to find any excuse good enough to get out of it. It was even reported that a certain member of the royal clan timed her pregnancies so that she could miss Balmoral biennially. Actually we Rannochs didn’t mind it. We were used to freezing cold rooms and the piper waking everyone at dawn, not to mention the tartan wallpaper in the loo.

“We had a lovely time there this year, didn’t we, Binky?” Fig drained her coffee and got up to help herself to a piece of toast.

“Oh rather,” he agreed. “Of course, the weather wasn’t too kind. Rained every bally day, actually. Missed every bird I shot at. Apart from that it was quite jolly. They’ve a new piper who plays at dawn.”

“I’m sorry I had to miss it,” I said with a straight face. I turned back to Fig. “So I hear you’ve come into a legacy, Fig, and you’re having central heating put in.”

“Only a small legacy,” Fig said hurriedly. “My aunt lived very simply. No luxuries. She was very active in the Girl Guides until she died.”

“And you’re just down here until the new boiler is put in?”

“Actually we thought we might as well keep on here until the wedding,” Binky said and got a warning frown from Fig.

“The wedding?” I asked.

“The royal wedding,” Binky said.

“The Prince of Wales is finally going to buckle down and get married?” I asked in surprise.

“Not the Prince of Wales, although it’s certainly taking long enough for him to select someone suitable to be a future queen,” Fig said. “It’s the younger son, Prince George, who is to marry next month.”

I couldn’t have been more surprised. “George?” It came out as a squeak. Prince George, the king’s fourth son, was utterly charming and delightful and fun, but from all I’d heard (and seen on occasion) he had been rather a naughty boy. “So the king and queen are trying to rein him in.”

“What do you mean, rein him in?” Fig asked.

“One has heard rumors . . .” I glanced at Binky but got no reaction, so I supposed that news didn’t travel as far as Scotland or my relatives were so naïve that they weren’t aware that behavior like George’s went on.

“Come now, Georgiana. Even princes of the realm are allowed to have a little fun in their youth,” Fig said. “As long as they do the right thing and marry well.”

Personally I thought that posing naked wearing nothing but a Guardsman’s bearskin and having an affair with Noel Coward were slightly more than “having a little fun.” I’d once spotted him at a party where cocaine was being snorted. There were rumors also of affairs with highly unsuitable women.

“Who is he marrying?” I asked.