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off Prince Otto, from what we can gather.”
    “Really, it is too bad that one can’t feel safe in England anymore,” Lady Merriman said. “Did he do any damage to our house?”
    “No, luckily the bomb was wrenched away from him and hurled away from the house before it could explode,” Lord Merriman said. “It has blown a crater in one of the lawns, that’s all. Easily remedied. So sorry, everyone. Let’s put it out of our minds and go in to supper, shall we? We’ll show these foreign blighters that they can’t scare us.”
    Prince Otto rose to his feet and offered me his arm. I took it and allowed myself to be led through double doors to a dining room where a magnificent spread awaited us on long, white-clothed tables. We ate very frugally at home, as Fig was in full economy mode, so on any other occasion I would have been thrilled to see whole smoked salmons, cold chickens, plates of oysters, mounds of caviar, lobsters, cold venison and all the foods I dreamed of when we were forced to face baked beans yet again. But I wasn’t used to eating this late and my stomach was tied in knots. I couldn’t stop thinking about my mystery man. I wondered if I should say anything to Lord Merriman, to tell him that my dance partner had been a gate-crasher at the party and had claimed that someone tried to poison our drinks. But if they had already caught him, his fate was sealed anyway. A wave of overwhelming sadness enveloped me. For the first time in my life I had met a man with whom I could really fall in love, and he had turned out to be a fake. Perhaps his kisses had been fake too—a pleasant way to pass the time until he went outside to detonate the bomb that would have killed us all.
    “You do not eat,” Prince Otto said. His own plate was piled high. “Not good to starve yourself. You need more meat on your bones. Here, let me give you this good venison.”
    I looked at the small foreleg in horror. All I could picture was a fawn standing in the forest. When Otto wasn’t looking I put down that plate, picked up another and served myself a little caviar and a fruit jelly. Otto escorted me back to the gold salon where he procured two chairs in a corner. “Zis is cozy,
ja
?” he said. “Now we get to know each other better and you tell me amusing stories of your royal relations.”
    There was no way I wanted to tell him amusing stories. Actually, I didn’t want to sit beside him, so I said, sweetly, “You were a little late in coming to the party, weren’t you, sir?”
    “Me?” he gave me a long look of innocence. “But I have been here all the time. You must be remarkably unobservant because I believe I danced with you.”
    I didn’t feel like taking this any further. I wanted to get away, to be among people with whom I felt safe. “Oh, yes,” I said. “So you did.”
    “And I hope I was a good dancer?” he teased.
    “The best,” I said.
    The Prince of Wales, with the Simpsons in tow, came up to join us.
    “Ah, so you’ve finally met young Georgie, have you, Otto?” The prince pulled up a chair beside us and Mrs. Simpson sat in it, giving him a dazzling smile of gratitude. Mr. Simpson grunted and loitered in the background.
    “I have, and your mother was right. She is quite charming,” he said.
    “Then at least one of us had better do the right thing and get married,” my cousin said.
    “So my father keeps telling me,” Otto replied. “But I do not see why I have to do the right thing any longer. It is not as if we have a dynasty to continue. We are no longer in power. We are passé, has-beens. So why not just amuse ourselves and to hell with duty?”
    Conversation was broken off as a plainclothes officer stepped into the room. “You will be pleased to know that the man who tried to commit this heinous act is currently being driven to Southampton in a police motorcar. Our men have searched the grounds and found no accomplices, so I’m happy to tell you that it is quite safe to carry on