“Right-o, old bean. Where are you staying? I’m having a little party and I’d love you to bring Her Highness. Show her what London has to offer, what?”

“How kind,” Marina said, before I could answer. I wasn’t at all sure that one of Gussie’s parties would be the sort of place one should take a princess, especially since her future husband would have had flings with most of the other participants.

“Tomorrow night. My place. You know where it is, don’t you, Georgie?”

“The flat on Green Park. Yes, of course.” I gave him what I hoped was a warning look, meaning no drugs, no hints about Prince George’s past life.

“Jolly good show. About nine-ish, then?”

And off he went.

“You have charming friends, Georgiana,” Marina said. “I am so happy to attend a London party. My life has been quite boring recently. This can be my final fling, yes?”

“Fling? What do you wish to throw?” Irmtraut asked.

Chapter 14

STILL NOVEMBER 5

SCOTLAND YARD . . . NOT WHERE I’D WANT TO SPEND THE DAY

After luncheon we visited the House of Molyneux, met Edward Molyneux, himself, who was utterly charming, and saw the princess’s absolutely lovely gown. I found myself daydreaming wistfully about having such a gown made for me one day. About getting married someday to a certain tall, dark and handsome man. Fittings were arranged for the princess and we came home with her looking forward to her English tea. As I came through the door one of the maids took me aside. “Don’t take off your coat and hat yet, Lady Georgiana. There is a motorcar waiting for you outside.”

“A car? Whose car?”

“I’m not sure, my lady, but the man just said that your presence was wanted urgently.”

“I see.” I looked around but Marina had already gone upstairs. “Please inform the princess that I have been called away unexpectedly and will join her as soon as I can.”

Then I went out again. Sure enough a dark sedan was parked under the trees. As I approached, a man jumped out of the front seat and opened the back door for me.

“Lady Georgiana?”

“Yes, what is this?”

“I believe that my superior would like a word with you, but somewhere private, away from this place. If you’d be good enough to get in, please.”

The thought crossed my mind that I’d look silly if I were actually being kidnapped by some kind of criminal organization or foreign power. Then I decided I wasn’t important enough for anyone to want to kidnap me.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

This time he pulled out a warrant card. “I’m DC Coombs. You’re wanted at Scotland Yard.”