“What?” she asked, as the reception clerk must have murmured something. “No, I do not intend to pay for a room I won’t be using. Ridiculous. You’re lucky that I put this place on the map by staying here in the first place.”

With that she turned to sweep away and saw me. “Good God, it’s the actress’s daughter,” she said. “I shouldn’t have thought the Negresco was your style, honey. What are you doing here?”

“Actually, I’m staying with my mother at her villa,” I said evenly, not prepared to let her rile me this time.

“Ah, so that’s it. Mummy’s finally bringing you out into society, is she? About time. But she’d better keep a close eye on you here. There’s no stiff upper lip when the British are abroad.” She gave a dry chuckle. “Incidentally, I saw your mother at the casino last night, but minus the German beau. Is that affair finally passé?”

“Not at all. He’s busy working in Germany and my mother needed sunshine, as simple as that.”

Mrs. Simpson was still giving me that patronizing smile I found so annoying. “It’s never as simple as that, honey. I’d like to bet she has her eye on another man.”

“You would know about those things more than I,” I said. “Will your husband be going on your cruise with your friend?”

“Of course. I like to keep my men where I can see them.” She laughed as she walked past me and up the staircase, trailing her fur coat behind her. I turned away to join Vera, who was waiting for me at the doorway.

“So you’ve met our famous American, I see. She’s quite a character, isn’t she?” She waved to Mrs. Simpson and smiled.

“You like her?”

“I find her amusing. She’s part of my set, and she wears Chanel suits. I don’t think ‘like’ comes into it,” Vera said. “Come on. Coco’s ready for us.”

I made a mental note to find out if that friend Mrs. Simpson had mentioned really was the Prince of Wales, and whether her husband was going to accompany her on the yacht. Then I had no time for any thoughts.