“Speaking of which,” Fig said, and stopped short. Voices were coming down the upper corridor toward us. Male voices. One of them had a strong foreign accent.

“Shall we attempt to ascend that mountain tomorrow, do you think?”

I froze on the stairs. “No, not him!” I hissed as I recognized that voice. It was my nemesis Prince Siegfried, of the house of Hohenzollen-Sigmaringen, whom everyone expected me to marry. Since I referred to him as Fishface and knew that he prefered boys, I was less than enthusiastic about this. A horrible thought crossed my mind that this whole thing was a plot. I’d been whisked back to Scotland not to solve any crime but to be thrust together with the man I so vehemently avoided. If I spotted a priest while I was in the same room as Siegfried, I resolved to run.

“Prince Siegfried, you mean?” She looked innocently at me. “You don’t like him? He has beautiful manners and he’s connected to all the great houses of Europe. He might even be king someday. If anything happens to his brother.”

“Like being assassinated, you mean?”

“Well, yes, but . . .” She stopped, as the speakers had come into view. They were chatting merrily and stopped in surprise when they saw us.

“Good heavens, it’s Cousin Georgie,” Prince George said. “When did you get here?”

“Just arrived, sir, “ I said.

“I didn’t know you were expected. How jolly,” my cousin went on. “And look here, you don’t have to call me ‘sir’ when we’re alone. I know my father expects it at all times. Mother even makes the granddaughters curtsy to her each morning. They just can’t see that all these stuffy rules are obsolete. This is the jazz age. People should be free, shouldn’t they, Siegfried?”

“Not too free,” Siegfried said. “Within our class, maybe. But as for encouraging the lower classes to be too familiar, I am afraid I am against it.” He bowed to me and clicked his heels. “Lady Georgiana. We meet again. How delightful.” He sounded about as delighted as one who has been presented with a plate of rice pudding.

“Your Highness.” I nodded in return with an equal amount of enthusiasm. “What a pleasant surprise to find you here.”

“So you’ve come to join the shooting party, have you?” Prince George asked.

“I have. Is Binky still arranging a shoot here or are you going over to Balmoral to join theirs?”

“We’ve been over to Balmoral a couple of times. Binky’s’s a bit out of commission at the moment, as you’ve probably heard. We’ve just been cheering him up, haven’t we, Siegfried?”

“What? Oh ja, absolutely.”

“So why aren’t you staying at Balmoral?” I asked the prince.