Following the guns wasn’t one of May’s favourite activities and she arranged to meet Eddy at the Sandringham estate home of Sir Dighton Probyn, where the shooting party was to have lunch. Sir Dighton was a longtime equerry to the Prince of Wales, and thirty years ago, as a young cavalry officer, had won the Victoria Cross for outstanding bravery during the Indian Mutiny. He always had a fund of entertaining stories to tell and, although she was a little shy of him, he was someone May greatly liked.

Georgie hadn’t felt up to a morning’s shooting in the bitterly cold weather, and so they walked the short distance to Sir Dighton’s home together.

‘Since your engagement, dear old Eddy has gained a whole new lease of life,’ he said as they scrunched companionably over the snow-covered ground. ‘Papa is in great good humour over it. He says you are going to be the making of Eddy.’

May stopped walking.

After continuing another step or two, Georgie halted and turned round. ‘What’s the matter, May? Is it too cold for you? Do you want to turn back?’

‘No.’ She remained where she was, her hands tucked deep into her fox-fur muff. ‘It’s just that I don’t understand why your father speaks of Eddy in such a derogatory way. Whenever he speaks to me, whatever he says is always interjected with “You must keep Eddy up to the mark, May,” or “See that Eddy does this, May” or “Make sure Eddy does that.” It’s all so unnecessary. Why does he never concentrate on Eddy’s good points? On the way that Eddy doesn’t possess a fiery temper, as he does? On how he is the best whist-player in the entire family, which in this family is saying an awful lot? On how he’s a first-class and utterly fearless polo player? And on how he speaks Danish far more fluently than anyone else in the family apart, of course, from Motherdear? And last but by no means least, on how he’s the sweetest-natured, kindest, most charming, amiable and well-loved member of the family there is?’

She was on the point of saying that even if his father didn’t have a high opinion of Eddy, the Queen and the Prime Minister had, and that Eddy would soon be Viceroy of Ireland. Remembering that no one – not even Georgie or his mother – was to be told this until after the wedding, she finished by saying, ‘So why does your father always go out of his way to belittle him?’

On hearing his father spoken of in such a manner, Georgie stared at her, open-mouthed with shock, and it occurred to May that perhaps she had gone a step too far.

‘It’s just . . .’ Georgie floundered. ‘It’s just that dear Eddy keeps himself so much to himself. It . . . it exasperates Papa.’