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It could be very awkward being at a country house party where everybody already seems to know each other, but thankfully I’m a bit of a novelty. The number of people who get excited when they hear my accent makes me feel that they’ve never met an American before.

Right now, I’m talking to a man with a horsey laugh and a tuxedo that’s so old I’m pretty sure it was born before I was. He’s describing in intricate detail how he spent an hour stuck in traffic this morning because the royal motorcade was making its way to Sandringham. “Of course, if you Americans had your way we wouldn’t even have a King,” he adds, giving me a pointed look.

“On the contrary,” I reply, taking a sip of champagne. “We love your royalty. We just didn’t like paying for it.”

“Hah, so true.” He laughs, delighted at my fast response. “Though to be honest, nor do we. We’re constantly stuck between moaning about how much they cost, then getting annoyed when one of them breaks away and we don’t have to pay for them anymore. But still, it’s more entertaining than watching EastEnders.”

Across the room I spot Theo. He’s surrounded by people already. Two older men in dinner jackets and a woman in a velvet dress who keeps touching his arm while she talks. He’s smiling politely, nodding at something one of them is saying.

Every few seconds his eyes flick across the room, looking for me. And when he finds me, his mouth softens for a second. Somehow that tiny moment makes me feel more buzzed than the champagne.

A loud booming laugh echoes from the hallway, and Theo’s father walks in, one hand on Kate’s back, the other clutching a wine glass.

Behind them more guests spill through the doorway, cheeks pink from the cold, scarves and coats already being whisked away by staff.

“Lord and Lady Harcourt,” the butler-for-the-evening calls out.

My royal loving companion perks up immediately, using his free hand to smooth down his hair. “Ah, excuse me,” he says, draining the last of his champagne before he puts the empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray. “Must go say hello to Jonty.”

And just like that I’m alone again. Well, almost. Theo is still across the room, laughing at something one of the men says, but when he notices I’m alone he mouths, “Save me.”

I grin, intending to head over to him and then staying locked to him for the night. But before I can start walking, I feel a soft hand on my arm.

“Well,” Kate says lightly, leaning in with a conspiratorial smile that makes me feel like she knows me way more than I know her, “you seem to be surviving. I came to warn you about Randy Dave.”

“Randy Dave?” I frown.

“The Marquess of Scythe.” She points out a gray haired man standing on his own, looking around for a group to join. “He’s such a tight wad he wears his father’s dinner jacket from the nineteen fifties. And he tries to touch everybody’s bottom. Or he used to until he was pulled up on it. Now he just looks like a sad dog at every party.”

“I thought his suit was vintage,” I say, because I have no idea how to respond to the rest of the information.

“Definitely not a style choice. It’s bloody ancient. I heard his ex-wife used it to line the cat’s basket. She birthed a litter on it, and he huffed and puffed about getting it dry cleaned.” A waiter passes with a tray of champagne and she swaps her empty glass for a fresh one without taking a breath.

“You must find it strange,” she adds, gesturing lightly around the room. “All these people here and none of them really liking each other.” Her eyes flick back to Theo. “And the wrong ones liking each other too much. I swear half of them are having it away with people who aren’t their spouses.”

Before I can respond, another burst of laughter rises from the hallway as more guests arrive, coats being taken by the staff.

Kate straightens slightly, smoothing the front of her dress. Then Alex appears, striding over to us, kissing her cheek like he’s reminding her which brother she should be looking at.

“There you are,” he murmurs. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“And now you’ve found me.”

“Hello Georgia,” Alex says to me. “Enjoying yourself?”

“I think so,” I reply.

“Good.” He lifts his glass slightly. “That’s the trick with these things. Smile, drink champagne, and pretend you don’t wish you could escape and pull your fingernails out one by one, just to pass the time.”

Across the room, Theo finally frees himself from the small crowd around him. One of the men claps him on the shoulder as he leaves, still talking, but Theo’s already looking past him.

For a moment I think he’s going to make it all the way across the room to me. But before he can, Barbara appears at my side.

“Georgia,” she says, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “You have a phone call.”

I frown. “I do?” My phone is in the little green purse clutched in my hand. “Where?”

“It’s on the house phone,” she says. “Come with me.”