Jolly good. We’ll be off in the morning. The princess is kindly arranging for a car.”
“Is Miss Deer-Harte not feeling well?” I asked, not seeing her among the ladies.
“She’s right as rain, as far as I know, apart from being jumpy about staying in a place like this. I had a tray sent up to her room. She couldn’t very well be allowed to join a glittering company like this for dinner, could she. She’s only a companion.”
“Here we are, then, isn’t this jolly?” Matty came up to me, her arm linked with Belinda’s. “I see you’ve made quite a conquest there, Belinda. Anton couldn’t take his eyes off you all through dinner.”
“Belinda’s hobby is making conquests,” I said. “She has left a long stream of broken hearts across Europe.”
“I hope not,” Matty said. “Fun is one thing, but broken hearts quite another. I hope I never have to break another heart as long as I live.”
As we came into the room I saw a group of middle-aged women, dripping with jewels and furs, examining us critically—or rather it appeared as if they were examining me. They beckoned me over to them.
“You are the Lady Georgiana from England, correct?” one asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“Relative of British king?”
“Yes, my father and he were cousins.”
She looked at the other ladies and nodded. “Is good. English king has much power.”
“So tell me. You know Prince of Wales?” one of them asked. She was dressed in the height of fashion with a sleek cap of Marcel waves and brilliant red lips.
“Yes, I see him often.”
“One hears he has a new mistress?” she asked. “An American woman? A commoner?”
“I’m afraid so.” There was little point in denying it if the rumor had already reached Romania.
“What she is like, this woman?” my inquisitor persisted. “She is beautiful?”
“Actually not. Rather boyish in features and figure.”
“You see.” The woman turned triumphantly to her friends. “What do I tell you? Secretly he prefers boys. He will never marry and make a good king, that one.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll do his duty, at the right time,” I said.
“The right time? My dear, isn’t he already forty? The right time was twenty years ago. It was suggested then that I might be a suitable match for him. But alas, he showed no inclination. Fortunately I married my husband, the count, instead and he still keeps me satisfied in bed, which I’m sure poor Prince Edward could never do.”
Her friends laughed.
“They say English men are cold, no?” another of the women asked me. “They cannot feel passion because they are sent to the boarding school too early. You will do well to select a European husband, my dear. More fire and passion.”
“Not all of them, remember, Sophia,” the first woman said, giving her a warning glance that I couldn’t understand. “Maybe the English lady does not want fire and passion. She may be content with good companionship.”
They were laughing at a secret joke and I looked around uneasily. Suddenly I had the same feeling I had experienced on the station—someone was watching me. There were several archways along one side of the room and the passage beyond them was in darkness. I thought I could make out a dark figure standing just beyond the archway, but then it could have been the carved stone, or even a suit of armor.
At that moment the men came into the salon to join us. Nicholas came right over to Matty and me. Anton made a beeline for Belinda, and Field Marshal Pirin for my mother, which made Mummy decide that she was getting one of her headaches and excuse herself.
“Didn’t you tell me there is an oubliette in this castle?” Anton said to Matty. “We should push Pirin down it. Really the fellow is too much. Did you see his behavior at dinner? Completely boorish.”
“Much as I’d like to take up your suggestion, you know he has to be humored unless you want civil war or worse,” Nicholas said. “And Father relies on him.”
“Relies on him too much,” Anton said. “He’s getting too big for his boots. If you ask me the man is dangerous. He’s using us for his own ends, Nicky. He sees himself as a future dictator, another Mussolini.”
“You don’t need to worry about it,” Nicholas said. “You can go back to your delightful existence in Paris. I might have to deal with him someday when I become king.”
“That’s me. The useless playboy,” Anton said. “All I’m good for is providing escort to