The French failings at tea making were more than made up for with a superb dinner of coquilles St. Jacques and boeuf Bourguignon just after we left Paris. Lady M continued her monologue, interrupted only by Miss Deer-Harte spotting another international criminal and reiterating the fear that we should all be murdered in our beds. Toward the end of the meal, when we were savoring a spectacular bombe glacé, Miss Deer-Harte leaned toward us. “Someone is spying on us,” she whispered. “I thought it earlier and now I am sure. Someone was watching us through the door to the dining car and when I tried to have a good look at him, he moved hastily away.”

Lady Middlesex sighed. “For heaven’s sake, Deer-Harte, don’t be so silly. No doubt it was some poor fellow coming to see if anyone interesting was in the dining car, deciding he didn’t want to dine with boring types like us and taking himself off to the bar for a while. Must you read drama into everything?”

“But our doors don’t lock properly, Lady M. How do we prevent ourselves from being murdered in our beds? You hear what happens on these international trains, don’t you? People vanishing in the night or found dead in the morning all the time. I think we should take turns in guarding Lady Georgiana. It may be an anarchist, you know.”

“No anarchist would want to kill Lady Georgiana.” Lady Middlesex gave a disparaging sniff. “She’s not next in line to the throne, you know. I could understand your concern if it were one of the king’s sons, but if someone is spying on us, he is probably a Frenchman with an eye for a pretty girl and wants a chance to meet our Lady Georgiana without two old fogies dogging her every step. I fear he will be unlucky because I have sworn to watch over her like a hawk.”

I was grateful that Lady Middlesex suggested we retire to our sleeping berths early. As I came out of the bathroom at the end of the car I had the oddest sensation that I was being watched. I spun around, but the corridor was empty. It’s that awful Deer-Harte woman, I thought. She is making me jumpy now. And I have to confess that I found myself wondering if there was any truth in what Lady Middlesex had said about a Frenchman wanting a chance to meet me away from the chaperons. That was an interesting thought. Belinda had always maintained that Frenchmen made the best lovers. Not that I intended to invite him in, but a harmless flirtation might be fun.