“So is anyone new on the staff since I went away?” I asked.

“Why, you’ve only been gone a few months, your ladyship,” she said, chuckling. “Nothing’s changed here, you know.”

“So how many men actually work in the house these days?” I asked. “Hamilton and His Grace’s valet and Frederick and the under footman. Is that it?”

She looked at me strangely. “Yes, that would be it, apart from the gardener’s boy who comes in to help with the boots and bringing up the heavy stuff from the cellar.”

“And what about on the whole estate, how many men would you say there were?”

She laughed. “Are you thinking of taking yourself a local husband, my lady?”

“No, just trying to work something out,” I said. “There would be the grooms, and the gardeners and the gillies, wouldn’t there?”

“And don’t forget the gamekeeper and field hands and the shepherd, and old Tom.”

Quite a few then, but only four who would be allowed in the castle. Except that some of them did come into the castle from time to time. Fergus came in to play the pipes on special occasions. The gardeners brought in firewood; the gamekeeper and the gillies delivered fish and birds. But would any of them dare to meet in a castle bathroom? Hardly likely.

“So do you think that anybody here would have home rule feelings?”

“What do you mean, my lady?”

“Wanting to do away with the king and queen and turn Scotland into a separate state.”

“Why would anyone want to do that?” She looked perplexed.

“Some people feel that way.”

“Not anybody around here. We think the world of the king and queen. In fact, everyone in these parts knows someone or has a relative who works on the Balmoral estate and they can’t speak highly enough of Their Majesties.”

When I came down to dinner, I found Binky had been carried down and was now reclining in an ancient bath chair that looked as if it once transported our venerable great-grandmother the queen. He was holding court, chatting to our visitors who had already arrived. I was uneasy to see that Darcy was among them, as was the dark and sultry Conchita, dressed in a slinky scarlet gown with a black fringed Spanish shawl over it. So was Ronny Padgett, looking remarkably civilized and feminine in a long bottle-green dinner dress with a white silk wrap and white elbow-length gloves. I went over to talk to her immediately so that I didn’t find myself in a group with Darcy. I told myself it shouldn’t matter that Señorita Conchita was making cow eyes at him, but it did. I suppose it’s not that easy to fall out of love so quickly.

“I saw you land on the loch this afternoon,” I said. “I didn’t realize your plane could land on water.”