twenty-two

“There are no such things as princes, not really,” she began wryly. “And I have been courted by at least three in my time. They’re just men, and men with better excuses than usual. Real princes are normal chaps who treat you like a queen.”

“But Alexander!” I protested. “He’s a prince and he’s totally charming!”

Granny sighed. “I met Alexander when I was nineteen, when I was singing at the Cavalier Club off Regent Street after the war. I just got up on stage one night as a dare, when I was there on a date. I sang ‘Hard Hearted Hannah.’ The manager asked me to come back—and I said why not? You would have loved the Cavalier Club, darling—it was all velvet drapes and huge crystal chandeliers, and you never knew who would be sitting at the next table. There’d be dukes, gangsters, actresses, all throwing back the cocktails and carrying on until breakfast the next morning. Quite scandalous, but terribly chic.”

“Didn’t your parents mind?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m afraid to say I ran rather wild in those days. Daddy and Mummy were in the middle of their divorce by then, and it was all getting pretty unpleasant—put me off marriage for years. I bought a little flat in Kensington and let them get on with it. Besides, I had stacks of admirers. Champagne every night, and hothouse peonies from country estates sent to the back door, and men proposing …” She smiled. “I was only nineteen, but I pretended to be twenty-two.”

I’d seen photographs of Granny singing in her figure-skimming lamé evening gowns and long gloves, lit up in a smoky spotlight, surrounded by dinner jackets and ladies in tricky little veiled cocktail hats. She might have been nineteen, but she’d had the heavy-lidded expression of a thirty-two-year-old thrice divorcée.

“Alex came in one night with a group of friends, and they had the special VIP front-row table. As soon as I saw him looking up at me, I felt I’d known his face for years. It was divine, just like electric shocks. We couldn’t tear our eyes away from one another, and I was almost too nervous to sing, but he waited until the club closed at five and took me out for breakfast. We went to a café he knew that opened for the flower traders at Covent Garden—he bought me coffee and every single orchid on sale that morning.”

“How romantic,” I breathed.

Granny nodded. “It was terribly romantic. Anyway,” she went on, “I moved into the flat he kept in Mayfair and I became what you’d call his mistress. But,” she said quickly, “it was a lot more than that, Melissa. We spent all the time he had in London together, going to the theater, and to parties, and concerts. Alex talked about marriage, and where we’d live, and what our children would look like, and I absolutely longed to be swept away by him. We were desperately in love. But business came first. Hollenberg. His father was negotiating with practically everyone to get the family reinstated in some form, and he had some far more suitable specimens lined up than me.”

“But, Granny, you were perfectly suitable!” I protested. “Your father was a High Court judge!”

She pulled a face. “Well, lots of people were in those days, darling. And they were divorced, and Mummy was quite notorious, and I’d had … a few admirers, shall we say? But what you must understand is that despite all this, Alex and I were very serious about each other.” She gripped my hand tightly, and I got the impression that we were now approaching the tricky part.

“Alex started to spend a lot of time abroad, dealing with his family. They were all over the place—Paris, New York, the south of France— and I started to get a bit, well, cheesed off. Just like you were cross about Jonathan. I was about your age by now, darling, and in those days, a girl was on the shelf by the time she was twenty-two. I wanted to know where I stood. I didn’t care for the idea of being his mistress forever, twiddling my thumbs until he flew in. And I didn’t like the idea that being his mistress meant there was a full-time official post for someone else. I was quite the society girl by then—I’d given up singing, you see—”

“After the hit record,” I added.

“Yeeees,” said Granny. “And quite frankly, it wasn’t as though I was short of potential husbands. Everyone used to come to my bashes in Mayfair—I had chinless wonders hanging off the fire escape. Percy, your grandfather, was sending me some special peony he’d crossbred in my honor three times a week, constantly taking me for tea at the Ritz, begging me to marry him. Not to mention a certain rather charming actor who shall remain nameless. Oh, yes, and him. I’d almost forgotten him,” she added, more to herself, then stopped.

I held my breath.

“Alex flew me to Paris on Valentine’s Day, in 1958. He said he had something to tell me. I thought he was going to propose, more fool me. He didn’t. He told me he was going to marry some countess called Celestine—a second cousin, or something—because it would more or less guarantee them getting their castle back.” Granny’s lips tightened, but I couldn’t tell who she was angry with: herself, I suspected. “He was upset, and I was devastated, but I think he expected we could carry on as normal, once I’d calmed down. Of course we couldn’t. That is not what I call princely behavior.” She twisted her mouth ruefully. “It didn’t get him his castle back in the end, either.”

“So what did you do?” I asked, though I think I already knew.

“I flew home and married your grandfather. He knew all about Alexander, but he waited for me, and when he asked me again, I said yes.”

“Did you love Granddad?” I asked. I couldn’t bear to imagine Granny heartlessly marrying herself off to someone she hadn’t loved, just to have gotten her own back. It just didn’t fit with the Granny I’d adored all my life.

Her eyes met mine, and for the first time, we were seeing each other as women, with the same vulnerable hearts, and romantic but pragmatic blood in our veins. I knew whatever she said would be honest, and I braced myself for my opinion of her to be changed forever.

“Yes, I did,” she said, after a pause. “Not the same way that I loved Alex, but I did love your grandfather. He was a sweet man, much older than me, you know, with grown-up children from his first marriage. But he was kindhearted, and quite dry once you got to know him. He had his peonies, and his table tennis, and someone to run his houses and his cellar, and I had the security and the company, and someone to beat at the crossword. And the title, of course.” She tutted ruefully. “Quite nice to be an official Lady. It might not have been a whirlwind romance, but we had the sort of love that lasted thirty years, whether life was stormy or dull, and that counts for a lot, you know, Melissa. Respect.”

“And what about Alexander? Did you stay in touch?”

Granny sighed and didn’t answer at once. “It’s very hard, isn’t it, when people you love turn out to be not the way you hoped?” She touched my hand and I nodded, sadly, knowing she meant Jonathan.

“Alex tried to get in touch with me many times, but I knew that if we met, we’d just be tempted to start an affair, and I promised myself I’d never, ever get involved with a married man. And I was cross for a long time about the way … things ended.” Granny looked quite fierce. “After Percy died, Alex called me and asked if he could take me out to dinner. I wasn’t sure, but he’s so charming, he persuaded me. I realized we were old enough to let things go and be friends. I’m glad he did.” She looked down at her own diamond rings. “Then when Celestine died last year …Well, that changed things again. I’d always like to think there’s room for forgiveness. But what I wanted to say to you, darling, is … If I’d waited for Alexander to give me a fairy-tale life, I’d be a bitter, lonely old woman by now. And instead, I’ve been very happy.”

She touched my cheek tenderly. “If I hadn’t married Percy, I wouldn’t have had your mother, and there wouldn’t have been any you! Darling, I know you’re feeling down about Jonathan, but please don’t expect Nicky to provide some kind of happy ever after for you. Because it’s not up to him, it’s up to you.”

“I don’t expect him to!” I protested. “I mean, he’s gorgeous and much less of a moron than he seems, but really, Granny—do you honestly think he’s my type?”

“We all like to think we know what Our Type is,” she pointed out. “But hormones have a habit of bypassing that.”

“It’s not that, there’s … there’s someone else.”

“Really?” asked Granny. “Who?”

I blushed.

“Please God don’t say Jonathan,” she groaned.

“No!”

“Thank heaven for small mercies. Who, then? Nelson?”

I nodded, and a little smile broke through the tension on Granny’s face. “Oh. Well, now, he really is a prince, Melissa. Nelson Barber is everything I’d wish for you, and he absolutely adores you, that’s quite clear.”

“Do you think so?” I asked hopefully.

“Oh, yes.” She took my hand and squeezed it. “Hardworking and honest might not be as glamorous as a yacht and helicopters, but believe me, darling, it’s a lot more precious. Does Nelson know how you feel?”

I shook my head. “No. Well, I’ve been engaged to Jonathan, haven’t I? God, I’ve been so stupid, trying to fix him up on blind dates—and now here he is with Leonie and they’re getting on like a house on fire! She’s had a makeover, and now even Nicky’s been listening to her lectures about international tax havens. It’s amazing what a half head of highlights and a push-up bra can do.”

Granny went silent, then said, “Well, what if Nicky suddenly took an interest in Leonie?”

“What?”

“Well, if Nelson thought Leonie was interested in Nicky, he wouldn’t touch her with a barge pole. And if Leonie thought Nicky fancied her—she’s an accountant, isn’t she? Which fund would you rather invest in?”

“I see what you mean,” I said. “Isn’t that a bit sneaky though?”

“Ingenious, darling.”

I looked at the red ring box on the desk, and the inner joy I’d started to feel curdled in my stomach. It didn’t change the fact that Nicky had an engagement ring in his cabin. Not only was this going to lead to a terrible, embarrassing situation, but we were stuck on a yacht. With no taxis to spirit us to safety.

“What am I going to say if Nicky does propose?” I wailed. “I’ve only ever been proposed to once, and that didn’t go very well!”

“You say, ‘I’m terribly honored that you’d consider spending the rest of your life with me,’” Granny began, with a suspiciously practiced air, but before she could carry on, I heard footsteps pass the porthole on the deck above and Nicky’s voice say, “I don’t know—I’ll just go and find her, shall I?”

I nearly jumped out of my palazzo pants. “Quick!” I said. “Out!”

Fortunately, the boat’s palatial dimensions meant that we had just enough time to slip out and pretend to be emerging from Granny’s stateroom when Nicky sauntered down the steps.

Granny and I both stared at him, as if seeing him for the very first time.

“What?” he drawled, running a hand through his thick dark hair. He raised an eyebrow in my direction. “Hey, I know I’m a good-looking guy, Melissa, but you’re making me feel quite shy, staring at me like that!”

“I’m fine!” I squeaked, not knowing what to say.

He peered more closely at me. “Melissa?”

“She’s still a little shaken after your cavortings,” Granny said, intervening smoothly, putting a hand on the small of my back and shoving me toward the stairs. My eyes stayed on Nicky, despite myself. “I prescribe a stiff gin and tonic, darling. Nicky, can you arrange that for us? We’re just going for a spot of sun.”

“Yeah,” he said, creasing his brow. “Leonie’s wondering where you are, by the way. Nelly’s boring her senseless with his reef knot anecdotes.”

“Hahahahahahaha!” tinkled Granny, and led me upstairs.

I’d barely settled myself into the soft mass of cushions in the sun pit when a generous G&T arrived in a huge tumbler, and I drank deeply from it, my hands shaking so much the ice rattled.

Granny arranged herself and her gauzy layers of designer linen on a sun lounger next to Alexander, who was already tanned to the deep bronze of Daddy’s dinner gong. Nelson had gone off to inspect some new GPS system, according to Leonie, for which I was quite grateful, but she seemed eager to chat, for which I wasn’t.

I lay back on the cushions, in the shade of a broad green umbrella, and tried to think what Honey would do. It was all so bizarre. What was the etiquette on being proposed to by a prince? How could I let Nelson know how I felt?

“Nelson’s a nice man, isn’t he?” Leonie observed, breaking into my thoughts. “Bit like a Labrador.”

“Sort of,” I said. A twinge of jealousy bit me. I was the only one allowed to see him as a Labrador, thank you. “He’s a bit grumpy in the mornings, though. And he won’t drink nonorganic milk because of dairy mastitis.”

I wondered, guiltily, just how far I could put her off, in the name of telling the truth. Not that I had any right to interfere in Nelson’s life, when it was me who had set him up with Leonie in the first place. Especially if he liked her.

“Hmm,” said Leonie. “I don’t go in for organic food personally. Just ten percent extra for a bit of mud, isn’t it? Paranoia tax. But I’m really impressed with his ethical investments,” she went on. “He’s obviously very clued up on tax breaks.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Very much so.”

“And he’s quite handsome, I suppose.”

“He’s very handsome,” I insisted. “He has gorgeous eyes, and his hair isn’t even starting to recede, unlike that of most of his friends.”

“Like a teddy bear,” agreed Leonie.

“No,” I said stoutly. That was what I’d been getting wrong all these years. “Not like a teddy bear. Like a …very handsome man.”

One of the crew came past and offered to refresh Leonie’s glass, at which she giggled. “No, shouldn’t,” she said. “This is my fourth! And I’ve had nothing to eat since …Oh, go on, then!”

She rolled over on her side and looked at me over her Duty Free sunglasses. Her bosom made a bid for freedom from her bikini, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Nelson’s very nice, but you must be looking forward to all this,” she confided.

“Sorry?”

“This life …” Leonie waved a vague hand around at the yacht. Four might have been a polite scaling down of her drinks tally. “I’d love to have a lifestyle like this! Yachts, and castles, and tans, and staff, and”—she stared lustfully at her drink—“huge crystal tumblers …”

I frowned. Tipsy or not, this wasn’t the disapproving Leoneezer I knew. Those blond highlights must have gone to her head.

“And as for Nicky!” She giggled again, and then sighed lustfully. “He’s so scrummy. So … naughty.”

“Leonie,” I said, propping myself up on one elbow. Ingenious plan or not, I had to be honest with her, as a fellow St. Cathalian. “I don’t really think he’s your type. You know he once undid my wrap dress in front of everyone at Petrus? For a laugh? Without even thinking how mortified I might be?”

Her eyes widened even further. “Oh, you lucky, lucky cow!”

I sank back into the cushions. Clearly, Leonie had a hidden side I knew nothing about.

“And to think all this is going to be yours,” she went on.

“It certainly isn’t,” I corrected her, then it dawned on me that Nicky could do a lot worse than a Very Sensible Girl with a suppressed naughty streak. “Nicky and I are just old family friends. You know,” I added, “I rather think it’s you he fancies.”

“Oh, no, don’t be silly!” she simpered.

“I think he does, though,” I insisted. “Didn’t he tell you how much he loved your new look? And he told me he’s bored of brainless heiresses and gold diggers. He wants someone with their feet on the ground, someone normal who won’t be impressed by material things, and love him for who he is, instead of what he can pay for.”

“That’s so sweet!” she near sobbed.

“He’s rather keen on strict girls, you know,” I pressed on. “And now they’re all moving back to Hollenberg, someone’s going to have to step in and modernize the castle, and that sort of thing. I doubt Alexander will want to have to deal with it.”

“The castle,” breathed Leonie. “Prince Alexander’s been telling me all about it. It sounds … magical! But probably quite dilapidated in some respects,” she went on, in more recognizably Leoneezer tones. “Have they negotiated any conservation grants to help with the restoration?”

I sank back and closed my eyes, adjusting my huge sun hat so that my face was shaded. “I don’t know,” I said. “Perhaps that’s something you could ask Nicky over dinner?”

“Yes, I will,” she gasped. “Oh, God, what should I wear?”

“The smallest outfit you’ve got,” I said, and pretended to go to sleep.

Obviously, I didn’t go to sleep. I lay there fretting. Fretting about Nelson, about whether Granddad Wasdalemere had been a knight in shining armor or just an old man with a red nose, about whether Alexander was going to break Granny’s heart again. And also about Nicky and that enormous diamond ring.

A shadow fell over my face, and I felt someone squat down next to me. Whoever it was smelled of cologne, and the knees didn’t click, so I knew it wasn’t Nelson or Alexander.

“Melissa,” whispered Nicky.

Oh, bollocks.

I kept my eyes shut beneath my shades.

“Melissa, I need to talk to you.” His voice sounded unusually serious, and quite urgent. “In private.”

This was it. My heart hammered. Right, I told myself, be dignified. Respect the fact that he really seems to have grown up recently.

An ice cube dropped on my cleavage and I sat up, scrabbling for it as it vanished into the dark caverns of my kaftan.

“So you weren’t asleep,” Nicky remarked, then added, as if he just couldn’t stop himself, “Want some help fishing it out?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Leonie struggle between desire and disapproval.

“Don’t do that,” I snapped. “Unless you want one down your trousers?”

Nicky pretended to swoon, but I could see tension lines around his mouth. “I love it when you get cross with me. Come on, I need to talk to you.” And he grabbed my hand and dragged me off the cushions.

Giving Leonie a significant look, I followed Nicky down into the salon, mentally preparing myself to be kind yet firm.

He dropped the lighthearted banter as soon as we were out of sight, and when we were safely in his cabin, he shut the door and went over to his desk.

Oh, God, I couldn’t let him do this.

“Nicky,” I said hastily, “you know I absolutely adore you, and I really do feel we have a special friendship …”

And the rest, I blanched but drove on.

“Which I hope we’ll never lose, but I’ve had a very upsetting time of it lately, and I just need some space and time on my own to … What?”

He was staring at me impatiently. Then, to my horror, he dropped to one knee.

“Nicky, I can’t marry you! I love someone else!” I roared, at the same time as loud music started blasting out of the carefully concealed speakers all round the cabin.

“What?” he said, getting up.

I realized he’d gone down on one knee to turn on the stereo, not to propose at all. The first pricklings of humiliation stabbed at my chest, but fortunately, he didn’t seem to have caught what I’d said.

“I don’t want to be overheard,” said Nicky, nodding toward the music. “Something bloody awful’s happened.”

He flipped open the lid of his laptop and clicked on an email. Curiously, I drew nearer and saw the email was from Imogen. It was composed in capital letters. She was clearly very angry or else wasn’t familiar with the caps lock.

Nicky sank into his chair, pulled open the drawer of the desk, and withdrew a hip flask, from which he took a mighty swig. “Read it,” he urged.

I skimmed Imogen’s shouty email, flinching at the foul language. The gist of it was that she was very annoyed at being dumped for some “fat chav,” as she charmingly described me, and to repay Nicky for making her look like a fool—something I felt she was doing perfectly adequately without his help—she was going to the magazines with some “interesting” photos she had of him. Which, she felt, might well provide an obstacle to his getting the keys to Castle Hollenberg. In fact, Imogen was fairly confident they might even lead to a visit from Her Majesty’s Constabulary.

I scrolled down. Imogen had attached one of the photographs to the email as an illustration. It started innocuously enough: a dark nightclub, the tops of people’s heads …

I reeled back from the desk at the sight of two flushed, seminaked girls grappling with Nicky and his awful shouty friend Chunder. Both of them were just about wearing unraveling togas, and there were empty bottles and bits of discarded clothing everywhere. Imogen had typed IT GETS MUCH WORSE—REMEMBER THE TWINS?!?!?!?!!?! beneath.

“Nicky, what on earth was going on there?” I peered closer at the arrangement of bare arms and legs. “Were you having a wheelbarrow race?”

He looked shifty. “Um, not exactly.”

I winced just looking at his tattoo, which seemed to be some kind of heraldic thing. “Is that a snake rampant? Gosh, it must have really hurt getting it down there …”

“Fine, OK!” said Nicky, and slammed the lid down, swigging again from his hip flask.

I sank back onto the chair in dismay. Just when I thought a nicer Nicky was emerging from the Euro-trash shell. It really was my day for being let down by people.

“Melissa, I’m really sorry you had to see that,” he said, biting his nails.

“Why?” I said bitterly. “Did you think you had me completely taken in with your sensitive act?”

“No, because I’ve moved on since that was taken! Jesus, don’t look at me like that!” he protested, taking a step backward. “Don’t you think I feel bad enough without having you give me the full disappointment treatment?”

“It’s not you I’m disappointed with,” I said, “it’s me. I feel sorry for you. What the hell were you thinking?”

“It’s camera phones,” he whined. “They’ve ruined everything—”

“You’re going to ruin everything!” I yelled at him. “On your own! For everyone! Can you imagine how embarrassing this’ll be for Alexander? Quite apart from anything else?”

Without warning, the defiance turned to contrition, and Nicky crumpled onto the bed, his head in his hands.

I turned off the stereo so we didn’t have to yell. Although I really, really wanted to yell at him right then.

“Look, I know I’ve been stupid in the past,” he said. “OK? I’ve been stupid. But I swear to God, Melissa, this is an oooold photograph. It happened sometime last year. Before I met you.”

That made me feel quite awkward. “I didn’t know my opinion mattered so much,” I said.

“It does. I do care what you think. Very much. And you’re right—I don’t want Grandfather dragged into it. He’d be … he’d be gutted.” Nicky’s face went pale beneath his tan, and he started chewing his nails again. “Fine, maybe I’ve left it a bit late to grow up, but I have, OK, and I don’t want things to be screwed because of something I’ve done. And God knows what else Piglet’s got. I’ve been to some … pretty wild parties.” He looked up at me appealingly. “But you have to believe me when I tell you I haven’t been to a single one since you started doing whatever it is you’re doing with me.”

I returned his gaze, but with a more cynical lift of the eyebrows. “I might be naïve, Nicolas, but I’m not stupid.”

His innocent face slipped a little. “OK, but I haven’t done anything prisonworthy, and I definitely haven’t done anything Piglet could have happy-snapped.”

“And there’s the small matter of your inheritance,” I went on mercilessly, determined to wring full contrition out of him. “I suppose that hadn’t crossed your mind?”

Nicky flinched. “Of course not! Are you trying to make me cry?”

“No,” I said. “I’m trying to make you feel guilty.”

“Well, I bloody am, OK? This is entirely my fault! I can see that! I have been an idiot! But please help me sort it out! You’re the only person I really trust!”

“OK.” I took pity on him: poor Nicky looked positively bewildered at the new emotions he was feeling.

We sat and stared at each other.

“Right,” I said at last, when it was clear that he wasn’t going to propose as an afterthought. “Did she give you a deadline? What exactly does she want?”

“Nothing. She just wants to punish me,” he said bitterly. “Piglet’s like that—it’s all about publicity for her. She’s going on some celebrity pirate ship thing next month, you know, as the random posh totty, so you can bet there’ll be some big picture of her with her tits out, alongside any of me.”

“You’ll have to stall her until we can think of something,” I said. “Tell her where you are—”

“She knows exactly where I am,” he interrupted. “That’s half the problem.” He nodded meaningfully toward me.

“Well, that’s ridiculous,” I said briskly. “She ought to know we’re old family friends. Tell her you want to talk about it face-to-face. Tell her whatever she wants to hear, but make sure she doesn’t do anything.”

“Then what?” Nicky asked, with new hope in his eyes.

“I don’t know! I’ll have to think of something.”

“By when?”

“Oh, I don’t know! Soon!” I threw my hands in the air. “I’ve never been in a blackmail situation before! Ask Granny—she’s more likely to have experience of this than me.”

Nicky looked horrified. “Melissa, this is our secret.”

Yeah. I thought, until it’s just between me, you, and the readership of Hello! But I didn’t say anything.

“Fine. But this week is looking mad already—I won’t be in the office from Thursday, and I’m going home to help my sister sort out the plans for my nephew’s christening—”

“Yeah,” said Nicky. “Your father rang me this week—asked me to be a godfather.”

“Really?” It didn’t surprise me. “I thought that was up to the parents.”

“Grandparents usually have their own agendas,” said Nicky.

“Tell me about it,” I said.

There was a knock at the cabin door, and Alison, the stewardess, put her head round. “Excuse me, but Prince Alexander asks if you’d both come up on deck for a moment?”

Nicky rolled his eyes. “Can you tell him we’re quite—”

“Fine!” I interrupted him. “Quite fine! We’ll be right along.”

“Thanks so much,” she said, and vanished.

“Come on,” I said. Nicky looked utterly deflated, and almost boyish, with his rolled-up deck trousers revealing his skinny ankles and long, tanned feet. The sexiness had evaporated, but he looked much more human. I felt a sudden, protective urge toward him and grabbed his wrists. “Let’s get up there. It’ll seem better in the sunlight.”

He let himself be hauled to his feet, then hesitated, still holding my hand.

For one ghastly moment, I thought he was going to propose while I was off-guard, but instead he gave me a hug. “Thanks, Mel,” he mumbled into my shoulder. “I wish I’d had a friend like you before now. Might not be in such a bloody mess.”

I hugged him back. “Well, quite. And I’d have had miles better holidays. Come on,” I said, breaking apart. “I think I heard a champagne cork pop.”

*   *   *

It was a champagne cork. When we arrived on the sun deck, Nelson and Leonie were standing by the loungers, awkwardly holding onto massive flutes, while two of the crew bustled about with silver ice buckets and stands. Leonie was swaying tipsily in the breeze, and Nelson glared at Nicky as we emerged.

“Ah, here they are at last!” cried Alexander, in a voice that could have carried back to Nice airport. He was wearing a fresh linen jacket over his white shirt and looked as if he was about to burst with delight. “Come on, you two! Take a glass!”

I signaled frantically with my eyes to Granny in case she thought Nicky had popped the question and held up my bare left hand in what I hoped was a casual gesture.

“Something the matter with your hand, darling?” she asked, tearing her gaze away from Alexander for a second and shading her eyes to see me better.

It was then that I was nearly blinded by a ray of sunshine hitting the enormous diamond ring she was wearing. The same ring that had been in Nicky’s cabin hours before.

“What?” hissed Nicky.

“That ring …,” I began.

“Oh, that. Yeah, he had me look after it for him. Apparently, no drawer is safe from your grandmother.”

I opened my mouth to defend her honor just as Alexander cleared his throat and addressed the assembled gathering.

“I want you to be the very first to know that Dilys has made me the happiest old man in the world and agreed to marry me,” he said. He took her hands as if the rest of us hadn’t been there and went on, “I should have realized long ago that castles and lands mean nothing unless the woman you love is there to share it with you.”

“Although obviously now you can have both,” Granny pointed out. “Which is simply marvelous.”

Alexander inclined his silvery head. “It is marvelous. I can’t believe my luck. Eh, Nicky? I think this will be a gala year for our family!”

Poor Nicky looked so sick that I rushed in and proposed the toast for him. And when Leonie sat herself between him and Alexander at dinner and proceeded to regale them with endless clever advice about financial planning, he didn’t even have the energy to tell her the buttons on her dress had popped open.

Nelson was strangely subdued; I was thinking how I could help Nicky; Granny was clearly planning her wedding in her head—needless to say, for our own various reasons, we all got roaring drunk and, VIP list or not, no one went to Jimmy’z that night.