Tommy looked her straight in the eye. ‘I understand that you are upset and I applaud your defence. Loyalty like yours should be rewarded but, Miss Crawford, in this instance, I fear you will find only disappointment. I tell you this with the best and kindest of intentions.’

‘Pah.’ Crawfie’s fury was white hot. Her voice low and not without threat. ‘You will assure me that you will never peddle these false accusations to anyone. If you do, I shall make sure that the King and your colleagues and your family knows that you are the liar.’

She turned away to the open window again. Her hands in knots on her lap. Her face pinched.

‘As you wish,’ he answered tersely.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Dunfermline, September 1947

A week after Tommy’s sickening attempt to put Marion off marrying George, she had returned home for the happiest of reasons. She had told no one about the conversation. The only possible rationale for Tommy’s behaviour was that he was jealous of her close ties to the family. She was needed by them, while he was just a cipher in a suit, there to do their bidding, to quell any storms brewing that might breach the royal walls. He was sick.

Here, sitting in the kitchen of her family home, she could put all her worries to one side. She would soon be Mrs George Buthlay and would be blissfully and supremely happy. The best revenge was a dish best served cold. Sir Tommy Lascelles would have to eat his words.

‘You really had champagne with the Princesses? George told me all about it.’ Maggie was frantic with joy.

Marion smiled. ‘Yes. It was so special, and they loved George straight away.’

‘Who wouldn’t! You have done so well. Your first boyfriend, and he’s been so patiently waiting all this time. You’re lucky he did wait. I thought you’d never find anyone!’

Marion winced and tried to ignore her mother. She always managed to hurt her, somehow or other. Did she do it on purpose or was it simply thoughtlessness? She got up. ‘Shall I make a start on the tea?’

‘Yes, please, dear. I am awful tired. It’s the hours your wedding dress has taken me. Your dad says I do too much.’

In the kitchen, Marion turned on the small radio on the windowsill and tried to quell her irritation. George and her father would be home soon. She hoped they had had a good day on the golf course.

She had decided against telling George about the horrible conversation with Tommy. It would be too upsetting and would spoil the happiness of the approaching wedding day. She didn’t want anything to ruin this perfect time. Besides, George hadn’t liked Tommy much when they had met briefly at Buckingham Palace. George was a very good judge of character.

Marion washed the potatoes and began peeling them, before putting the mince in the frying pan for the shepherd’s pie.

She closed her eyes and imagined herself this time next week, cooking for George as Mrs Buthlay. The wedding was going to be small but perfect – only extended family, old friends and neighbours.