By now, with the wedding breakfast over, relatives were gathered in little clusters all over the palace, catching up on gossip, exchanging titbits of scandal, discussing how odd it was that Ella should have accepted a proposal from the stern and uncompromising Sergei, when it was well known that she had turned down proposals from both Eddy and Willy. They were also speculating on what had gone on behind closed doors between the Queen and Ludwig, and between the Queen and Ella. Nowhere, though, was there a sign of their father and Alexandrine.

Forty minutes later, Irène, Ella and Alicky met up with Vicky and Ernie in the New Palace’s grand entrance hall.

‘Not a sign of either of them,’ Ernie said, tired of the exercise and impatient to get back to catching up with his Battenberg cousins. ‘And if Pa wishes to marry Madame de Kolémine, surely that’s his affair and no one else’s.’

‘Alexandrine is a divorcee,’ Irène said, annoyed by how dense her brother could be. ‘That one fact alone is enough to make Papa intending to marry her very much Granny Queen’s affair.’

‘Well, neither of them are in the palace, so I suggest we put it to the back of our minds. By now everyone will be wondering where Vicky is, so let’s continue enjoying her wedding day and forget all about Papa. He’ll put in an appearance when he’s good and ready. After all, there’s nowhere else for us to look.’

‘Yes, there is.’

As usual, everyone had been ignoring Alicky. Vicky, Ella and Irène now turned to look at her.

‘Where?’ Vicky demanded.

‘The family chapel.’

‘It’s a possibility,’ Ella said to Vicky, ‘but why would they be there?’

Even before she’d finished asking the question, the answer was obvious.

The colour left Irène’s cheeks. ‘Papa wouldn’t . . . He couldn’t . . .’

‘He’s wanted to for long enough,’ Ernie said bluntly. ‘But I can’t see a Lutheran pastor marrying him to a divorced woman, can you? If – and when – they marry, it will be a civil ceremony.’

‘A civil ceremony could still be conducted in the chapel.’ Irène looked towards Vicky.

Vicky didn’t speak. She simply hitched her floor-length wedding gown up to her knees and, with everyone following her, set off at a run towards the east wing of the palace and the chapel. They never reached it, for strolling away from it, arm-in-arm, were their father and Alexandrine. Their glow of happiness, and the bouquet Alexandrine was carrying, told them everything they needed to know.