“I think it might be very nice,” I said, wondering where this was leading. I remembered Vera saying that he’d have to settle down and produce the heir eventually. Had he decided I would make a suitable marquise?

“Your dear papa—he did not visit his family home very often, I think. He too enjoyed the delights of the Riviera.”

“He might have enjoyed them, but they didn’t do him any good,” I said. “He got through all the family money. He must have been a rotten gambler.”

“Drinking and gambling together are not wise,” Jean-Paul said. “Your papa—he liked the champagne too much. And the ladies too.”

It was almost a slap in the face to hear that he’d liked the ladies. But then I suppose he was free to do what he liked after my mother had left him. When I was growing up, I’d always pictured him as a lonely man, wandering alone on foreign beaches, and I’d felt sorry for him. Now I thought of Binky, struggling to keep Castle Rannoch going after Father had spent the family money on gambling and the ladies, and I was suddenly angry.

“I hardly knew my father,” I said. “So I really can’t judge him.”

“Very wise,” Jean-Paul said. “I knew him a little and I think you can say that he was a kind man, but not a wise one.” He leaned closer to me. “Rather like your cousin the Prince of Wales. He has shown concern for the poor people of your country, he wants to do some good, but he has not demonstrated wisdom in his affairs. I wonder if he will make a good king.”

“I really don’t know,” I said. “I take it you’re referring to Mrs. Simpson. She certainly seems to have a hold over him, almost as if he’s bewitched. One hopes that when his father dies, he’ll shape up and do the right thing. We were certainly all brought up to put duty before anything else.”

“Maybe he will,” Jean-Paul said, “but let us not speak of him or of duty. I thumb my nose at duty. It is boring. Talk to me about amusing things.”

“I’m afraid I don’t lead a frightfully amusing life,” I said.

“But you must know some delicious scandals. You are sharing a house with three notorious women, no? What of their love lives? Who goes to bed with whom?”

I felt myself blushing under his frank gaze. “I know little about such things. Since I’ve been staying there, there have been no gentlemen in evidence.”

“What of the terrible Sir Toby? He lives next door, doesn’t he? Does he never come to call? And the delectably exotic Olga? One hears such delicious gossip about their tempestuous life together.”