‘Oh, don’t worry.’ He laughed. ‘I will.’

Marion smiled. ‘We have had a long engagement,’ she said. ‘George has been most patient.’

‘Some things are worth waiting for.’ His smile was charming and the Princesses, Marion could tell, had taken to him.

For almost an hour the four of them chatted about things they enjoyed and pets they loved. Marion was pleased to see that George was at his most charming, full of little jokes and shows of interest.

‘You three,’ he said. ‘You are so alike. Almost like sisters, all of you. You talk and laugh alike, and look at your mannerisms, the way you use your hands. It is uncanny.’

Marion blushed. ‘George!’

‘Crawfie is almost family,’ agreed Princess Elizabeth. ‘She has been a wonderful governess and friend since we were so little. When Crawfie first came here, she wasn’t very much older than I am now.’

‘Although we thought you were very grown up when we first knew you,’ added Princess Margaret. ‘Isn’t that extraordinary!’

‘You were tiny wee girls when I first arrived,’ Marion said. ‘And now look at you: two fine young women – and one of you almost married.’

Princess Elizabeth turned to George. ‘Are you free in November, Major Buthlay? Our wedding is on the 20^th, at Westminster Abbey.’

George beamed. ‘I would be honoured to come.’

‘Excellent. And have you and Crawfie fixed a date yet?’

George took Marion’s hand in his. ‘I haven’t discussed this with you yet’ – Marion’s eyes widened – ‘but I have spoken to the minister at Dunfermline Abbey, and the 16^th September is available. It’s a Tuesday.’

Marion gasped, her eyes gleaming. ‘Have you really?’

‘I wouldn’t joke about something so important. Would midday be all right?’

‘Yes. Yes, please.’ Marion gripped his hand. ‘Oh George, you are so good.’

He gave a modest shrug. ‘I have wanted to tell you for the last week, and now to be able to tell you in front of your friends seems the right moment.’

Princess Margaret jumped up to call for a footman. ‘We need champagne!’ she declared.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Buckingham Palace, August 1947

‘It is very kind of you to share your car with me, sir.’ Crawfie relaxed into her seat and put her gloves on her lap.

‘My pleasure,’ Tommy said. ‘Thank you, Jackson.’

The chauffeur shut the door on his two passengers and stepped smartly into the driving seat. The engine purred and the large heavy car moved through the Palace courtyard and out towards the gates. They were on their way to Windsor.

‘It is such a treat not to have to carry my bags.’ Marion waved at the policeman on duty before they turned right up Constitution Hill, heading for Park Lane and the west.

Tommy hoped that he looked outwardly calm, because inside he was in knots. He had engineered this journey for them both in order to tell Miss Crawford the unpalatable truth about her fiancé.

He slipped a finger between his collar and neck and eased the restriction in his throat. He had already asked Jackson to make sure the glass partition between the front and back of the car was in place, in order that the difficult conversation would not be overheard.