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‘You have presented them with a fait accompli,’ his mother said approvingly. ‘I look forward to meeting your parents one day very soon. You are a close family?’

‘Yes,’ Elsie agreed, very conscious that Leandro had slid into the seat beside her, causing the dog to jump off her lap.

‘And do you still live with them?’

‘We both do—my twin is being groomed to take over from Mum and Pa.’

‘And you?’

‘I’m more a back-room girl—computers, finance.’

‘And she volunteers for a charity that matches homeless dogs to new homes, she drives a…’ he turned to Elsie ‘…a doggy bus?’

She nodded.

‘Oh, that’s why Mabel has taken a shine to you,’ the Dowager said, patting the sleepy little whippet.

‘I love dogs.’

‘More than people?’

She slung him a look. ‘Depends on the people.’

The Dowager laughed at the joke. ‘My husband would never allow Leandro to have a dog but his grandmother had several.’

‘I have the scars to prove it,’ Leandro said. ‘Will you excuse me, ladies?’

‘He exaggerates. My mother has an assistance dog since her hearing became bad; he is marvellous. I just wish that we could have persuaded her to come and meet you, but she doesn’t mix much in society; her deafness makes her feel self-conscious.’

‘Do you live with her?’

‘Oh, no. Well, I did when I first…lived apart from my husband. I was always there when Leandro was—he spent his school holidays with my mother. I have a cottage. I live quite simply in the Western Scottish Highlands—you won’t know it.’

‘I have bagged the odd Munro.’

‘You have?’

Elsie lips quirked at the scepticism in the Dowager Queen’s voice as her glance moved upwards from Elsie’s crossed feet, clad in spiky ankle boots, to the tailored wool skirt and boxy jacket that, after a lot of debate, she and her twin had finally deemed suitable for the occasion.

‘Oops…too much leg?’ she queried, arching a brow as she extended one leg.

The older woman’s expression relaxed when she read the twinkle in Elsie’s eyes. ‘Well, as my old nanny always said, if you’ve got it, flaunt it, and you have very excellent legs, my dear.’

Elsie tipped her head in acknowledgement of the compliment. ‘Thank you kindly. Actually, I was in the Highlands recently. I like to take off sometimes, just me, my rucksack and every navigation aid known to man. Whereabouts do you live?’

‘Achiltibuie.’

‘Oh, glorious area…the Summer Isles. I was in Skye—the Trotternish, so not far away.’

Above the hum of the jet engine his approach was silent but Elsie knew he was there; her body had already gone into meltdown mode, her nerves fluttering.

‘So, what have I missed?’

Very aware of the hand on the back of her chair, she fought the impulse to pull back, and the much more worrying impulse to lean in and make contact.

Panicked into speech, she heard herself blurt, ‘We were just discussing my legs.’

‘Now, that is a subject that does not bore me,’ he drawled.