Now she’s in a pickle, I thought. Her husband is here. Fig was moving through the crowd like a sheepdog, trying to line us up to go in to dinner. “We won’t process in until the piper gets here,” she said, “but here’s how the order of procession should go. Since Binky can’t be part of it, His Royal Highness should escort me, Prince George should escort Lady Georgiana, Prince Siegfried with Countess Von Sauer, Herr Von Strohheim with—” She broke off as she looked at my mother, obviously trying to remember what her current name was. It was still Mrs. Clegg, as her Texan millionaire husband did not believe in divorce, but Fig wasn’t to know that. She moved on hastily down the rest of the line. Mrs. Simpson was paired with Darcy and did not look pleased.

“These customs are so quaintly old-fashioned, aren’t they?” she said to her lady friends, loud enough for those around her to hear. “So backward. No wonder Britain is being left behind in terms of world progress.”

“They do rule half the globe, Wallis honey,” Babe pointed out.

“One wonders how, with all these inbred families and their stupid customs. It really irks me to see that woman go ahead of me.” She leaned out of the line to glare at my mother. “I mean, she’s no longer a duchess, is she?”

She had meant my mother to hear. Mummy turned around to her and gave her a sweet smile. “Ah, but I usually try to discard mine before I move on to the next one. You are planning to discard this one, aren’t you? Or are you worried he’ll want too much alimony?”

There was the hint of a twitter from the other women but Mrs. S looked daggers at my mother as she turned back serenely to Max and slipped her dainty hand through his arm. Darcy caught my eye and gave me a wink. I had returned the smile before I remembered that I wasn’t speaking to him.

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Castle Rannoch
August 18
Evening. Blowing a gale outside. Not much warmer in.

Suddenly the most awful wail echoed through the house. The countess grabbed at Siegfried’s arm. “What is it? Is it the ghost? The White Lady of Rannoch?”

“Och, it’s only the piper,” Murdoch said. “Come to pipe us in to dinner.”