“Belinda. I worry that you’ll end up like my mother,” I said.

“I don’t think your mother has had a bad life at all,” Belinda said thoughtfully, staring out across the smoky bleakness of the station. “Rather fun, actually.”

“But what about when she gets old and loses her beauty and sex appeal?”

“She can make a fortune writing her memoirs. ‘My life—from actress to duchess to bolter.’ They will make Lady Chatterley look like a Girl’s Own comic.”

“It wouldn’t be the kind of life I’d want,” I said.

“Of course not. You’ve too much of Queen Victoria in you. You want the family seat with an adoring husband and a pack of children around you. We’ll just have to find you another Prince Albert.”

“I met enough of those at the wedding in Romania,” I said. “They were terribly stodgy and boring.”

“That’s because you were comparing them to Darcy. So where is he now?”

“I’ve no idea. I saw him once at Christmas, then he went home to Ireland and I’ve heard no more. I can’t blame him. Fig is so rude to him if he dares to show his face at Rannoch House. She still hasn’t forgotten arriving in the middle of the night and finding us alone together, and me in my night attire.”

Belinda’s face lit up. “Georgie, you sly old thing. So you have finally done it after all.”

“Not exactly,” I said. “I wanted to but I fell asleep.”

“You fell asleep? I don’t believe it. I’m sure Darcy’s lovemaking is not at all ho-hum.”

“No, he was wonderful. I’d drunk too much champagne, I suppose. It always goes to my head. Anyway, Fig and Binky arrived and found us and she’s not allowed Darcy in the house ever since.”

“How simply maddening, darling. We’ll have to whisk you away somehow. I’ll try to wangle an invitation for you once I’m settled in Nice, and you try to find a way to come up with the train ticket. Perhaps someone we know is motoring down and has room in the motorcar for an extra person.”

“I hardly know anybody in London,” I said.

“You know the king and queen, which is more than most of us. Wouldn’t they like to send you on a small royal tour to bring their goodwill to expatriate English people?”

“You are silly. Besides, you said the Prince of Wales is already there.”

“I don’t suppose he’s spreading much royal goodwill. Too interested in one particular party.”

“Oh, Lord, is she with him?”

“So one hears.”

“I bet Her Majesty’s livid about that.”

From down the platform came a loud whistle and shouts of “all aboard.”

“You’d better be off, or you’ll miss your train,” I said. My face must have mirrored my own gloom.