“An accident on the way? Surely you only had to come a few yards from St. James’s, didn’t you? You could have walked,” the king said testily.

“Actually I had to pop over to the new place to check on something the decorator wanted me to see, and as I said, no harm, no foul.”

“You’re here now, George. That’s all that matters. And now that you are here, your father has something to tell you.” The queen looked expectantly at the king, who cleared his throat.

“This is the time in your life when you take on responsibility, my boy,” he said. “Until now you’ve had free rein to enjoy yourself when you were not out and about with the navy. From now on we expect you and your bride to be active members of the royal family, to take on royal duties, and to be a credit to our good name and to our ancestors. So I plan to make you Duke and Duchess of Kent.”

“Gosh, thanks awfully, Father.” He looked across at Marina. “Do you hear that, my dear? You’re to be Duchess of Kent.”

Marina was standing next to me. “Isn’t that a step down from princess?” she whispered with the hint of a grin.

“These titles come with property and income, I believe,” I whispered back. “Most royal sons are made dukes.”

“Ah.” She nodded.

The gong was sounded. Prince George took Marina’s arm to escort her in to dinner. I followed behind, unescorted. I suppose the Prince of Wales would have made up even numbers, as he wouldn’t have dared to bring Mrs. Simpson with him. Dinner passed smoothly but without the Prince of Wales putting in an appearance, which clearly vexed his mother. When we were driven back to Kensington Palace, Princess Marina seemed in good spirits and satisfied with her lot.

“The queen was kinder to me than I expected,” she said. “And I could tell that the king liked me too.”

“Who could not like you?” I asked.

She squeezed my hand. “You’re so sweet, Georgiana. Will you have to marry someone the family finds for you, or will you be able to make your own choice?”

“Hopefully the latter,” I said. “They tried to hitch me up with Prince Siegfried of Romania.”

She gave a peal of laughter. “Me too. Isn’t he awful? And do you know what I found out? He likes other men. Can you imagine how horrid that would be?”

Should I tell her? I wondered, then decided against it. After all, her future bridegroom George was also reputed to have had affairs with unsuitable women. He was an equal opportunity offender. And maybe he’d shape up and become a model husband. He certainly seemed fond of Marina, the way he looked at her.