I wandered along hallways until I heard voices and came upon a group assembled in the anteroom next to the banqueting hall. I spotted Prince Nicholas among them and was making my way through the crowd toward him when a voice said, in French, “Now, who is this charming young person?” and of course I realized that I was among the royals who had arrived earlier. Then, of course, I felt highly embarrassed, because I was dressed for warmth rather than elegance. The embarrassment was doubled when Siegfried stepped forward, took me by the elbow and said, also in French, “Mama, may I present Georgiana, the cousin of King George.”

The elegant, perfectly coiffed, exquisitely dressed woman beamed at me and extended an elegant hand. “So you are the one,” she said. “How delightful. You don’t know how we have longed to meet you.”

I curtsied warily. “Your Majesty,” I murmured.

“And you speak such fluent French too.”

I hardly thought the word “majesty” comprised good French and was seriously worried at the effuse greeting. I had just been introduced to Siegfried’s father, the king, when the gong sounded and I was swept into luncheon without having an opportunity to speak to Prince Nicholas. I was seated between a countess and an elderly baron, both of whom spoke to me in stilted French, and then, when they realized I knew nobody that they did, they spoke across me: “So do tell me, what is Jean-Claude doing this winter? Monte Carlo again? Too overrun with riffraff these days for me. And what about Josephine? How are her rheumatics? I heard she was in Budapest for the baths. I find them so unhygienic, don’t you?”

I managed to eat and answer when spoken to, while at the same time watching what happened behind the table. Servants came and went with such rapidity that I could see there was a chance that an opportune assassin could have darted out from an archway, administered a dose of poison and vanished again without being noticed. Especially if someone were speaking at the time. I looked down the room. If someone at the far end of the table had been making a toast, all eyes would have been on him. The whole thing seemed impossible. I would have been happy to call it a heart attack and leave well enough alone, but for the fact that someone had tried to kill Prince Nicholas and that person was still among us.

I managed to eat my way through a rich and creamy soup, a sauerbraten with red cabbage and some delicious dumplings stuffed with prunes and dusted in sugar. Then, the moment luncheon was over, I tried to intercept Prince Nicholas as he left the room.

“Can we go somewhere to talk?” I said in a low voice. “There’s something I need to tell you privately, about Field Marshal Pirin.”

“Oh, right.” He looked startled, then glanced around. “I’ll get Anton.”