“Oh, I’m sure he’ll do his duty, at the right time,” I said.

“The right time? My dear, isn’t he already forty? The right time was twenty years ago. It was suggested then that I might be a suitable match for him. But alas, he showed no inclination. Fortunately I married my husband, the count, instead and he still keeps me satisfied in bed, which I’m sure poor Prince Edward could never do.”

Her friends laughed.

“They say English men are cold, no?” another of the women asked me. “They cannot feel passion because they are sent to the boarding school too early. You will do well to select a European husband, my dear. More fire and passion.”

“Not all of them, remember, Sophia,” the first woman said, giving her a warning glance that I couldn’t understand. “Maybe the English lady does not want fire and passion. She may be content with good companionship.”

They were laughing at a secret joke and I looked around uneasily. Suddenly I had the same feeling I had experienced on the station—someone was watching me. There were several archways along one side of the room and the passage beyond them was in darkness. I thought I could make out a dark figure standing just beyond the archway, but then it could have been the carved stone, or even a suit of armor.

At that moment the men came into the salon to join us. Nicholas came right over to Matty and me. Anton made a beeline for Belinda, and Field Marshal Pirin for my mother, which made Mummy decide that she was getting one of her headaches and excuse herself.

“Didn’t you tell me there is an oubliette in this castle?” Anton said to Matty. “We should push Pirin down it. Really the fellow is too much. Did you see his behavior at dinner? Completely boorish.”

“Much as I’d like to take up your suggestion, you know he has to be humored unless you want civil war or worse,” Nicholas said. “And Father relies on him.”

“Relies on him too much,” Anton said. “He’s getting too big for his boots. If you ask me the man is dangerous. He’s using us for his own ends, Nicky. He sees himself as a future dictator, another Mussolini.”

“You don’t need to worry about it,” Nicholas said. “You can go back to your delightful existence in Paris. I might have to deal with him someday when I become king.”

“That’s me. The useless playboy,” Anton said. “All I’m good for is providing escort to beautiful women.” And he took Belinda’s arm.

“I didn’t ask to be born first,” Nicholas said. “I don’t particularly want the job, any more than our cousin Edward wants the job in England, I’d imagine.” He looked at me for confirmation.

“I don’t think most men would want to be king,” I said.