“Too impossibly stuffy, and Mummy going on at me to hurry up and get married. And then all the tension with David. They’ve heard that the Simpson woman is here, of course, and, like our great-grandmother, they are not amused.” He grinned.

“Well, would you be?” I said. “The Prince of Wales will be king someday. Can you imagine a Queen Wallis, if she ever casts off her current husband?”

The prince chuckled. “I do get your point. David simply doesn’t take the job seriously. He’s a good enough chap, kind and generous, y’know, but he finds the affairs of state too boring and I can’t say I blame him.”

“You’re lucky,” I said. “The job won’t come to you unless there is another huge flu epidemic or a massacre.” I had been exchanging banter but as I said it I felt a cold shiver pass over me. Could it be true that somebody was trying to eliminate those who stood between him and the throne? I’d have to look at the succession list in the morning and see who that could possibly be. Certainly not Prince George. Being king would put an end to his current lifestyle.

“You’re looking awfully pensive,” he said. “Come down and have a nightcap with us. Are your fearsome cousins still ensconced in the drawing room?”

“They are.”

“My God, what brutes. Throwbacks to the stone age, didn’t we agree, Siegfried?”

“Oh yes, absolute brutes. We risk our lives every time we encounter them.”

I stifled a giggle, as they both seemed rather enchanted with this.

“I’m on my way up to see Binky,” I said, “but I’ll no doubt see you in the morning. Your Highnesses.” I inclined my head again.

Siegfried clicked his heels and we passed on the stairs.

“You see, Georgiana, two charming young men and you hardly say two words to them, much less flirt,” Fig admonished. “You have to learn to flirt, my dear, or you’ll wind up an old maid.”

I stole a quick glance at her solid, angular face. I was dying to ask if she had ever flirted with Binky and if she had, why he hadn’t run screaming in the opposite direction. Apart from her pedigree she didn’t seem to have much going for her.

We continued along the hallway. Cold drafts swept past us, stirring the tapestries and making me think that I could easily do more with this White Lady of Rannoch idea. From outside the castle came the sound of a screech owl. Definitely a place that lent itself beautifully to ghosts and ghoulies and long-legged beasties and things that go bump in the night. At the far end Fig opened the door cautiously. “Binky, are you awake?” she whispered. “I’ve brought someone to see you.”