‘Ah.’ Tommy sat back in his chair and surveyed the two men. He had thought Morrah and these ghastly Goulds had gone away for good. It was madness. The royal family were on an even keel now – as popular as ever, if not more so, after the interest and excitement of the marriage of Princess Elizabeth and the Duke of Edinburgh. They had no need to sell themselves to a couple of American hacks. ‘If you mean Mr and Mrs Gould of the Ladies’ Home Journal,’ Tommy said, ‘I am indeed aware and dead against it.’

Mr Rosenstein frowned, but continued. ‘And it follows that you also know we have come to you directly from an audience with Her Majesty.’

‘I do.’

Mr Jones – young, callow and barely of shaving age – coughed and opened the briefcase by his side to take out a closely typed page. He held it out to Tommy. ‘We have drawn up some proposals. The Queen has looked at them and has tentatively agreed to some careful press access to Princess Elizabeth.’

Tommy left the page dangling in Mr Jones’s fingers. ‘Has she?’

‘She understands the very real value of public relations with our American cousins, the Commonwealth and the world beyond.’ Mr Rosenstein smiled.

Tommy did not move a muscle. ‘Does she?’

‘She asked us to talk to you.’ Mr Rosenstein produced another, silkier smile.

‘About what exactly?’ Tommy folded his hands.

‘Mr and Mrs Gould are excellent journalists,’ Mr Jones said, ‘who have been trusted by many significant people, in publishing uplifting and informative articles about their lives, including Mrs Roosevelt when she was the First Lady.’

‘Yes.’ Tommy sniffed. ‘I am aware.’

Mr Jones perked up. ‘Their wish is to commission Princess Elizabeth to write a series of informal articles about her life married to a naval officer. Her hobbies, charity work, favourite recipe. You know the sort of thing.’

Tommy shuddered. ‘Her hobbies? Favourite recipe? Ha!’ Tommy’s laugh was mirthless. ‘They really want that sort of bumf, do they? Good Lord. That’s the marvel of being an American, isn’t it? Anyone can be president and anyone can get anyone else to do anything. And the answer, chaps, is no. We Brits do things differently. Our constitution and the people within it are not for sale.’

Mr Rosenstein crossed his legs, pinching the fabric of his trousers a little and then smoothing it back again. ‘Lady Astor was in this morning’s meeting with Her Majesty. She suggested that rather than Princess Elizabeth writing the articles herself, they could be written by a third party – someone close to both sisters, who would share a few charming and harmless tales.’

Tommy had a terrible feeling that he might know who they meant. ‘And?’

‘The Princesses’ governess? Miss …’ Mr Rosenstein looked over to Mr Jones who supplied the surname.

‘Miss Crawford.’

Tommy clenched his hands. ‘No.’

‘But Her Majesty thought Miss Crawford might be perfect?’ Mr Rosenstein pressed. ‘Providing that the articles were anonymous and that Miss Crawford’s name and position were never mentioned. It would be a marvellous opportunity for the royal family to boost their followers in the States – Princess Elizabeth, the Duke, Princess Margaret, and of course the King and Queen, all of them charming. It would be a delightful and positive venture. You must see that?’