I laughed. “And felt horribly sick afterward. Oh, I do remember now. You were about to go off to school. I was envious because I was stuck at home with a governess.” Then I remembered something else. “You were at school with Darcy O’Mara, weren’t you? He mentioned that you were a good rugby player.”

“So you know Darcy, do you? Damned good fullback himself. Plenty of speed. So how do you like the castle?” He grinned impishly. “Delightfully gothic, wouldn’t you say? Maria insisted on having the wedding here.”

“It’s a family tradition, I suppose.”

“Maybe for the original family—Vlad the Impaler, reputed to be Dracula, was one of them, I believe. But Maria’s family hasn’t been on the throne for that long. No, I think it has more to do with Maria’s fond memories of summer holidays spent here as a child, and her romantic nature—wanting to be married in a fairy-tale castle.” He leaned closer to me. “Frankly I would have preferred somewhere more comfortable and accessible.”

“It does seem rather—gothic, as you say,” I agreed.

We broke off as a large man barged up to us. “And who is this delightful creature? Introduce me please, Nicholas.” He spoke with a heavy accent.

He was pale and light haired with the flat features of the Slav and his uniform was so covered in medals, sashes, orders and braid that he appeared almost a caricature of a general from Gilbert and Sullivan. And I noticed that he had called the prince Nicholas.

A slight spasm of annoyance crossed Nicholas’s face. “Oh, Pirin. Of course; this is my dear relative from England. Lady Georgiana, may I present Field Marshal Pirin, head of the Bulgarian armed forces and personal adviser to my father, the king.”

“Field Marshal. I’m pleased to meet you.” I inclined my head graciously as we shook hands. His hand was meaty and sweaty and it held mine a little too long.

“So from England you come, Lady Georgiana. How is the dear old King George? Splendid old chap, isn’t he, but rather boring. Hardly drinks at all.”

“He was well when I last saw him, thank you,” I said frostily, as I didn’t like this supposed familiarity with the king, “although as you have probably heard, the king’s health has not been the best recently.”

“Yes, I hear this. And the Prince of Wales—is he ready to step into his father’s shoes, do you think? Will he do a good job when the old man kicks the bucket, as you say in England, or will he still be the playboy?”

I really didn’t want to discuss my family with a complete stranger and one not even royal. “I’m sure he’ll be absolutely splendid when the time comes,” I said.