“Yes, they can be rather alarming,” I said. “I am invited to the palace quite frequently and every time I tremble at the knees. The king and queen are very hot on protocol. I always have to remember to curtsy and call her ma’am.”

She took my hand. “Then you and I will support each other.”

How charming she was, I thought, and I hoped fervently that Prince George could really learn to behave himself and to love her as she deserved. I tried to picture myself if I had agreed to marry Prince Siegfried, moving to a strange country with unfamiliar customs and a groom who would never love me. And I thought how lucky I was that I had found Darcy.

It was certainly less alarming to arrive at Buckingham Palace in a suitable Daimler motorcar and to drive past the guards, into the palace forecourt, through the arch and up to the main entrance. We were escorted up the stairs and into the Music Room, where the king and queen, together with the Duke and Duchess of York, were awaiting us. There was no sign of the Prince of Wales or the bridegroom. The queen came forward to meet us.

“Marina. Welcome, my dear. How very good to see you looking so well. And Georgiana too. Such a pleasure.”

Marina was kissed on both cheeks. I curtsied. Marina then kissed the king and was introduced to the duke and duchess.

“I must apologize for my sons,” the queen said, looking around with obvious displeasure. “The king is extremely punctual and my sons appear to be more Continental in their approach to time. The Prince of Wales did tell me that he feared he would not be able to join us on this occasion, but your future husband was with us only a short time ago and went home to change into his dinner jacket. I can’t think what could be delaying him.”

“No sense of duty, this younger generation,” the king growled.

“Oh, come now, Papa. We are here on time,” the Duchess of York said with her sweet smile. I noticed the duke said nothing. He was always afraid of revealing his stammer in public and was very shy among strangers.

“You two are the salt of the earth,” the queen replied.

“If only the boy would get over that blasted speech impediment,” the king said. “It’s only a matter of practice.”

“I d-d-d-do try, Father,” the duke said.

There was an awkward silence. Mercifully champagne was served. Nibbles were brought around and finally, when the king was clearly beginning to fume, Prince George came running up the staircase, out of breath and straightening his bow tie as he ran.

“Awfully sorry to be so late, Mama,” he said. “The motorcar was involved in a minor prang. Nothing serious. Nobody hurt, but it delayed us.”