“That would be lovely. But please, do call me Marina. We are, after all, to be related.” She turned on the full force of that radiant smile and I found myself thinking about her future as Duchess of Kent. Would she have to learn to turn a blind eye to her husband’s infidelities? Would he break her heart the way Darcy had broken mine?

“I’ll go and ask the major right away,” I said and left them to their tea. I wasn’t in the mood to eat anyway.

I went around to the front of the building, negotiated the crowd of tourists and found the major’s front door open and the major inside, brandishing a feather duster. “Doing a spot of housekeeping,” he said, looking embarrassed. “I’m afraid the servants they employ here are not up to my army standards. I really miss my regimental batman. I like to see everything sparkling—not a spot of dust.”

Sparkling. The word flashed through my brain. Something significant. Something I had seen.

“So how did the lunch at the Savoy go?” he went on and the thought vanished like a bubble on a sunny day.

“Very well, thank you,” I said. “We met a friend of mine there and are invited to a party he’s hosting tomorrow night.”

“A party suitable for a princess?” He gave me a questioning look.

“I hope so. Gussie Gormsley. Do you know him? Oodles of money.”

“I know the name. I don’t move in those circles personally. Not my cup of tea. But the prince does, as you know.”

“Gussie knows the prince,” I said. “And he has some questionable friends, but I’m sure they’ll behave if they know Princess Marina is to be a guest,” I said. “And Gussie himself is also getting married soon. Settling down, you know.”

“It happens to most people in the end,” the major said.

“Tell me,” I couldn’t resist saying, “you are Prince George’s private secretary. Do you think . . .” I couldn’t go on. I had wanted to know whether he thought the prince might be capable of killing a former mistress, whether the prince might have told him Bobo was pregnant. But I couldn’t. Perhaps Sir Jeremy would have asked him those things, but for me they constituted a betrayal of family. Instead I said, “Do you think he will settle down?”

“I rather think he will,” Major B-C said. “He’s a good chap at heart, you know. And he’s certainly sown his share of wild oats before the marriage.” He flashed me a wicked grin.

I came away somewhat reassured. Either Prince George kept secrets from his equerry or the major really didn’t think the prince was involved in Bobo’s killing. But the question was still there: what was she doing at Kensington Palace?