There have been many royal scandals behind the scenes which could have destroyed the Crown forever, but for Tommy’s careful handling and iron fist.

You could say, he really has seen everything, and done it. A decent man and a stickler for protocol whose actions are not always popular amongst the royal household. But, by God, they know they are lucky to have him.

Today, he is sixty-two, a happily married man with three children, enjoying his job as private secretary to King George VI.

From behind his well-ordered desk in Buckingham Palace, he is reading over two court papers that the King will want to see.

It is a pleasant enough morning – until his secretary, Miss Jane Pepper-Thynne, knocks and pops her head around the door.

Tommy looks at his desk clock and smiles. ‘Elevenses already, P-T?’

‘No, sir. I mean yes, sir, but that’s not why I am here.’

His eyebrows shoot up in their quizzical way. ‘Well, then – out with it.’

‘Her Majesty the Queen wants to see you straight away. She says it’s urgent?’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘I believe it’s something to do with Miss Crawford and’ – she hesitates – ‘a book, sir.’

This is news Tommy never wanted to hear and has tried to prevent in every possible way. His neatly trimmed moustache tenses in fury. ‘Is it by chance the book I think it is?’

The Honourable Miss Pepper-Thynne squares her shoulders. ‘Yes, sir.’

Tommy drops his fountain pen on his large desk blotter and stands up. ‘I told the damned woman. I damn well told her.’ His brimming rage is so quiet and contained it makes it all the more terrifying. ‘And where exactly is Her Majesty now?’

‘In her sitting room, sir.’

He buttons his jacket and straightens his tie. ‘Heads will roll – but it damned well won’t be mine.’

What happens next is the complete destruction of one loyal woman’s character.

PART ONE

Chapter One

Dunfermline Station, March 1932

Twenty-two-year-old Miss Marion Crawford was waiting on the platform of Dunfermline station for the London King’s Cross train. Her stepfather was waiting in the car park. Her mother was standing beside her, glancing up at the station clock. ‘We are in good time at least.’

Marion had heard her mother say the same thing at least twice since they had arrived. ‘Yes, Mother.’

‘There’s nothing worse than rushing for a train.’

‘No. Look, Mother.’ Marion sighed. ‘There’s no need for you to wait with me. Go home with Dad. It’s been a long morning already, saying goodbye to all the neighbours – which, by the way, was really embarrassing.’

‘I thought you’d like a proper send-off. It was a good turnout. Even old Mr Turner waved from his window, too cold for him to come out.’

‘Too cold for everyone.’ Marion lifted one foot then the other in an effort to warm them. ‘Please, Mother, go back to the warm car. Dad will have the engine running.’

‘I’ve been colder than this and survived.’ Her mother sniffed. ‘I don’t know why your father wouldn’t come out to see you off.’