Frantically she tried to think of eligible Italian royals, but her knowledge of the Italian royal family was sketchy and the only name she could think of was that of Vittorio Emanuele, the Prince of Naples. But as he was only twenty and it had been seven years since the Teck family had been banished to Florence, May’s secret romance couldn’t possibly have been with him. Florence was, however, a very popular destination for sun-starved Russian royals.

The idea of May having had a secret romance with a hot-blooded Romanov was so mind-boggling that Maudie simply couldn’t get her head around it. She remembered that although all Granny Queen’s grandchildren had more than a generous dash of German blood in their veins, May was all-German, something that was easily forgotten, when she had been born and brought up in England.

‘Was he a German royal?’ she asked. ‘Or perhaps a Russian royal?’

‘Good heavens, no! He wasn’t royal at all. And he was Irish.’

‘Irish?’ Maudie put a hand on the back of a convenient chair to steady herself. ‘Irish?’

‘Yes.’ Having gone so far, May didn’t see why she shouldn’t go the full hundred yards. ‘And he was – is – an artist.’

It occurred to Maudie that she was having her leg pulled. ‘You’re teasing me, May. You have to be.’

‘No, I’m not. And we didn’t have a romance, although I think we came very close to having one. We still keep in touch by letter.’ She paused and then added, ‘He’s married now and living in America.’

Through the wide-open doors leading into the adjoining room they could see chairs being laid out for a game of Musical Chairs.

Maudie said. ‘Have you ever told anyone else, May?’

‘Absolutely not. And I shan’t.’

Maudie understood. Just as the truth about how far things had gone between her and Frank was something she knew May would never, ever speak about to anyone, so May trusted her with her secret.

The game of Musical Chairs was apparently only for girls, and as Marie-Louise, Vicky, Toria, Looloo, Ducky, Missy and Hélène began racing like mad things around the chairs to music from a phonograph, Eddy strolled back into the principal drawing room and looked around, as if searching for somebody.

May looked away from him quickly, but not quickly enough. Their eyes met and, with a relaxing of his shoulders, he began threading his way through knots of relatives to where she and Maudie were standing.

‘Oh dear,’ Maudie said. ‘Eddy’s going to do the caring-brother thing and ask me why I’m not joining in with anything.’

He didn’t. Instead, when he reached them, he said to May, ‘I was hoping you would be here tonight. I expect you’ve heard the good news about Hélène and me, but I wanted to tell you myself.’