call myself Coronet Domestics and nobody need ever know that I, and I alone, am Coronet Domestics. It’s better than starving, anyway.”
“What about the lady-in-waiting thing? How does one turn down the request of a queen?”
“Very cautiously,” I said. “But luckily nothing in the palace happens overnight. By the time HM has it arranged,
I shall tell her that I am fully occupied and financially stable.”
“Well, good luck then, I suppose,” Belinda said. “You wouldn’t find me cleaning lavatories.”
“Oh, dear,” I said, coming down to earth with a bump. “I hadn’t counted on lavatories. I was thinking more a quick whisk with my handy duster. That much I can handle.”
She laughed. “I fear you may have a rude awakening. Some people are absolute pigs, you know.” She leaned back against the velvet upholstery and crossed her legs in a move that must have been practiced and designed to drive young men wild. It had no such effect on me except to elicit a wave of envy over her silk stockings.
“So how did you enjoy your outing with the attractive Mr. O’Mara?” she asked.
“He is quite dashing, isn’t he?”
“What a pity he’s penniless. Not exactly the escort you need at this stage of your life.”
“Maybe we go together well,” I said.
“You’ve tried, have you?” Belinda asked.
“Tried what?”
“Going together.”
“We’ve only just met, Belinda. Although he did kiss my hand on the doorstep and suggest that I invite him inside.”
“Did he? How terribly un-British.”
“I have to confess I did enjoy the hand-kissing part and I almost relented and let him into the house.”
She nodded. “He’s Irish, of course. They are a wild race, but more fun, one has to admit, than the English. Heaven knows Englishmen have no idea at all about the gentle art of seduction. The best most of them can manage is to slap you on the behind and ask if you fancy a spot of the old rumpy-pumpy.”
I nodded. “That does sum up my experience so far.”
“There you are then. So he may well be the one.”
“To settle down with? We’d starve.”
“Not to settle down with.” She shook her head at my stupidity. “To rid you of the burden around your neck. Your virginity, I mean.”
“Belinda! Really!”
She laughed at my red face. “Someone has to before you turn into a sour old maid. My father always says that once women turn twenty-four, they are beyond redemption, so you’ve only got a year or so.” She looked at me, expecting an answer, but I was still lost for words. Discussing my virginity did not come easily to me. “You are seeing him again?” she asked.
“He’s taking me to a party at the Café de Paris next week.”
“Oh, my dear. Very swank.”
“Gate-crashing again, I’m afraid. He says it’s given by Americans and they’ll fall over backward to have a member of the royal family present, even if it’s a minor one.”
“He’s absolutely right. When is it?” She produced a small diary from her bag.
“Belinda, you’re as bad as he is.”
“Maybe we’re kindred spirits. You should keep us apart. I think I might rather fancy him myself, although I’d never step on the toes of an old school chum. And being penniless does limit the desirability. I do have horribly expensive tastes.” She jumped up and grabbed the feather duster from me. “I almost forgot what I came for. I bumped into another old school chum at the wedding yesterday. Sophia, that round little Hungarian countess. Didn’t you see her?”
“No, I didn’t. There were so many people and I was attempting to lie low.”
“Well, anyway, she invited me to a little party on a houseboat in Chelsea this afternoon and I asked if I could bring you. I tried to find you, but you’d vanished.”
“Darcy and I melted away before the party dispersed.”
“So will you come to the party on the houseboat?”
“It does sound rather fun. Oh, wait a minute. No, I’m afraid I can’t come after
“What about the lady-in-waiting thing? How does one turn down the request of a queen?”
“Very cautiously,” I said. “But luckily nothing in the palace happens overnight. By the time HM has it arranged,
I shall tell her that I am fully occupied and financially stable.”
“Well, good luck then, I suppose,” Belinda said. “You wouldn’t find me cleaning lavatories.”
“Oh, dear,” I said, coming down to earth with a bump. “I hadn’t counted on lavatories. I was thinking more a quick whisk with my handy duster. That much I can handle.”
She laughed. “I fear you may have a rude awakening. Some people are absolute pigs, you know.” She leaned back against the velvet upholstery and crossed her legs in a move that must have been practiced and designed to drive young men wild. It had no such effect on me except to elicit a wave of envy over her silk stockings.
“So how did you enjoy your outing with the attractive Mr. O’Mara?” she asked.
“He is quite dashing, isn’t he?”
“What a pity he’s penniless. Not exactly the escort you need at this stage of your life.”
“Maybe we go together well,” I said.
“You’ve tried, have you?” Belinda asked.
“Tried what?”
“Going together.”
“We’ve only just met, Belinda. Although he did kiss my hand on the doorstep and suggest that I invite him inside.”
“Did he? How terribly un-British.”
“I have to confess I did enjoy the hand-kissing part and I almost relented and let him into the house.”
She nodded. “He’s Irish, of course. They are a wild race, but more fun, one has to admit, than the English. Heaven knows Englishmen have no idea at all about the gentle art of seduction. The best most of them can manage is to slap you on the behind and ask if you fancy a spot of the old rumpy-pumpy.”
I nodded. “That does sum up my experience so far.”
“There you are then. So he may well be the one.”
“To settle down with? We’d starve.”
“Not to settle down with.” She shook her head at my stupidity. “To rid you of the burden around your neck. Your virginity, I mean.”
“Belinda! Really!”
She laughed at my red face. “Someone has to before you turn into a sour old maid. My father always says that once women turn twenty-four, they are beyond redemption, so you’ve only got a year or so.” She looked at me, expecting an answer, but I was still lost for words. Discussing my virginity did not come easily to me. “You are seeing him again?” she asked.
“He’s taking me to a party at the Café de Paris next week.”
“Oh, my dear. Very swank.”
“Gate-crashing again, I’m afraid. He says it’s given by Americans and they’ll fall over backward to have a member of the royal family present, even if it’s a minor one.”
“He’s absolutely right. When is it?” She produced a small diary from her bag.
“Belinda, you’re as bad as he is.”
“Maybe we’re kindred spirits. You should keep us apart. I think I might rather fancy him myself, although I’d never step on the toes of an old school chum. And being penniless does limit the desirability. I do have horribly expensive tastes.” She jumped up and grabbed the feather duster from me. “I almost forgot what I came for. I bumped into another old school chum at the wedding yesterday. Sophia, that round little Hungarian countess. Didn’t you see her?”
“No, I didn’t. There were so many people and I was attempting to lie low.”
“Well, anyway, she invited me to a little party on a houseboat in Chelsea this afternoon and I asked if I could bring you. I tried to find you, but you’d vanished.”
“Darcy and I melted away before the party dispersed.”
“So will you come to the party on the houseboat?”
“It does sound rather fun. Oh, wait a minute. No, I’m afraid I can’t come after
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