Over at Aunty Gee’s table, conversations had ranged from Mrs Oliver’s latest organic vegetable project to Lawrence’s upcoming film and Alice-Miranda’s school play. Between hoots of laughter and hushed whispers, there was barely a second’s silence.

‘Nasty business, those jewel heists,’ Hugh Kennington-Jones commented to Aunty Gee over his perfectly marinated lamb fillet. ‘It sounds like they’re ticking off a very long list if you ask me.’

‘Mmm.’ Aunty Gee nodded her head and swallowed. ‘I was chatting with Inspector Gerard just last week and he assured me they’re only after Russian gems. It’s fortunate we haven’t acquired any in our collection.’

A spate of jewel thefts around the world over the past eighteen months had been a source of chronic irritation for Chief Inspector Sexton Gerard, the Head of Interpol. The common thread seemed to be the jewel’s original owners, the long-departed Russian royal family. To date, all manner of trinkets had been stolen from private individuals on the Continent, museums in the United States and, most daringly, from the vault of the Kremlin in Moscow itself. Whoever was behind the raids was terribly well connected and exceedingly clever. So far, Gerard had no leads whatsoever.

‘What’s that, Aunty Gee?’ Cecelia joined the conversation. ‘Has there been a robbery?’

‘I was just saying, dear, that I don’t think we have to worry at all about those nasty thieves who seem to be amassing a trove of Russian antiquities.’

Having finished her meal, Alice-Miranda, with Millie in tow, hurried over to ask her parents if the children might be excused to play a game of hide and seek. She poked her head around next to her father and waited for him to finish speaking.

‘I’ve heard they have the Great Imperial Crown and the Sceptre with the Orlov Diamond,’ Hugh said thoughtfully. ‘She’s a real beauty that one – one of the largest in the world.’

‘Good heavens!’ exclaimed Aunty Gee. ‘I would have thought the security at The Treasures of the Diamond Fund would have been better than that.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Millie asked as she and Alice-Miranda squeezed in between Hugh and Cecelia’s chairs.

‘Oh, hello girls. We were just talking about some robberies of Russian jewels this past year or so,’ Hugh informed them.

‘Why did you say she’s a real beauty?’ Alice-Miranda asked. ‘Is the diamond a girl?’

‘I suppose I always think of jewels as being female,’ her father replied.

Alice-Miranda nodded. ‘May we be excused so we can play hide and seek?’ She could see Jacinta and the boys at their table beckoning her and Millie to return.

‘Of course, darling. Run along – but just stay above deck. Don’t want anyone getting lost in the dark, do we?’ Hugh directed.

Alice-Miranda pecked her father’s cheek and then turned to give her mother the same treatment.

Millie waved. ‘Bye, everyone. Enjoy your dinner.’

The group bid the girls farewell and went back to their conversations.

Deep in thought, Charlotte glanced up from her pork loin. ‘What about the Fabergé eggs?’

Queen Georgiana placed her knife and fork gently beside each other and drew her napkin to her lips. With furrowed brows, she folded her napkin and placed it beside her plate.

‘Oh my dear, I hadn’t even given them a thought. Well, of course, they’re more Russian than borsch, aren’t they? I’ll talk with Admiral Harding and Dalton. I know the security codes for the cabinets are a very well guarded secret and I don’t suppose it’s especially common knowledge that they’re on board.’

‘Gee, I think you’re wrong there, dear,’ Granny Valentina piped up. ‘Don’t you remember there was a feature on the Octavia in a recent edition of Monarch Monthly? I recall a lovely photograph of the drawing room with the cabinet in the background and at least a paragraph devoted to the eggs and how you happened to have them.’

Aunty Gee’s lips formed a perfect ‘O’. She signalled for Dalton to step forward from where he was standing behind her left shoulder.

A short conversation in hushed tones, seemed to lighten her mood considerably.

‘It’s all right, dears.’ Aunty Gee giggled like a schoolgirl. She leaned in and motioned for the group to join her. ‘No need to worry at all,’ she whispered. ‘They’re fakes.’

‘What do you mean, fakes?’ Lawrence murmured, raising his eyebrows.

‘Well, Dalton assures me that years ago my dear father had replicas made for the ship. He thought the Octavia was far too vulnerable. So the real eggs are in the vault at the palace. I can’t imagine why no one has ever bothered to tell me, but perhaps that’s because I never bothered to ask.’

‘Well, that’s good news. Very good news indeed,’ Hugh nodded.

‘Anyway, there’s no need to worry. Dalton has the security well in-hand.’ Aunty Gee smiled broadly.