He picked up his glass. “So I ask us all to be upstanding and raise our glasses in a toast to my son, Siegfried, and his bride-to-be, Lady Georgiana.”

Everyone was on their feet. I felt as if I were falling down a deep well shaft. I wanted to scream “No-o-o-o!” but everyone was smiling and raising their glasses to me.

“You sly one. You didn’t tell me.” Matty embraced me and kissed me on both cheeks. “I can’t say I’d want Siegfried, but I’m so glad you’re going to be my sister.”

What could I do? I had been brought up with etiquette rammed down my throat. A lady would never make a fuss at a banquet. A lady would never contradict a king. But this lady would never marry Prince Siegfried in a million years. Siegfried was raising his glass to me, pursing his cod lips in a kiss. Oh, God—please don’t say I’ve got to kiss him. The company sat down again. I hastened to sit before any kiss might be required. I hadn’t realized that the steward had pulled my chair out for me. One second I was standing, glass in hand; the next I was sitting on nothing and had disappeared under the table with a startled cry. Of course then all heads turned back to me again. I was hastily rescued from my undignified position, my face burning with embarrassment, and placed in my chair. Everyone around made a fuss of me, hoping that I wasn’t injured and pressing glasses of champagne at me. I heard murmurs of “Too much champagne going to her head” and “Attack of nerves, poor little thing.”