“I’m so sorry to keep you all waiting, Captain,” she said in that low voice with the slight Southern drawl. “You should have started without me.”

“Oh, but we have,” Mummy said, raising the glass of champagne in Mrs. Simpson’s direction.

“My, my. What a surprise. It’s the actress and her little daughter off on a transatlantic jaunt,” Mrs. Simpson said. “How lovely to see you again.”

“Lovely to see you too, Mrs. Simpson,” Mummy said. “Are you traveling alone? No Mr. Simpson in tow this time?”

“No Mr. Simpson,” she said. “I have a spot of business to attend to in Baltimore and unfortunately no friends were free to accompany me.”

She made it quite clear that by “friends” she meant the Prince of Wales.

“What a pity,” Mummy said. “Still, I’m sure you’ll soon make plenty of friends on the boat.”

“Ship,” the captain corrected.

The two women stared at each other with mutual loathing. They had taken an instant dislike to each other the first time they had met and absence had definitely not made their hearts grow fonder.

“And how are you, Georgiana honey?” Mrs. Simpson turned to me. “Still not married? The family hasn’t managed to hook you up with a dashing European prince?”

“I’m afraid not,” I said. “It seems that the family isn’t very good at hooking anyone up with a suitable spouse.”

I saw the momentary flash of venom in those dark eyes, then she smiled. “My, my. The little one is growing up and developing claws.”

“You must let me introduce the rest of our table companions,” the captain said hurriedly. And he introduced them in turn. I noticed Sir Digby and Lady Porter now looked decidedly pink and uneasy. I suspected that the rumor of Mrs. Simpson’s liaison with the Prince of Wales might have finally reached the outer suburbs, even though the newspapers had been banned from mentioning the topic so far, out of deference to the king and queen.

Dinner was superb. After months of good food at Kingsdowne Place I was less impressed than I might have been when I was one step from starvation and living on baked beans, but I still worked my way merrily through every course. Mrs. Simpson was remarkably quiet for once. She answered questions politely, but that was all. Cy Goldman held the fort with tales of his estate above Malibu and the wild animals he had imported to roam around.

“Isn’t that a little dangerous?” Lady Porter said. “I’ve heard that zebras can be as lethal as lions.”

“We only send the difficult guests to feed them.” Cy gave a big, hearty laugh.

Sir Digby tried to steer the conversation to his wife’s prowess in the amateur theater, making Mummy and Stella exchange grins.