AMELIA HAD BEEN TO the Royal Observatory before for school trips, but she’d never been there at night and never for an event like this. Certainly she had never arrived there — or anywhere — in a car with Prince Arthur, who had picked her up at her flat.
The Queen’s House, built by a long-dead king for his wife, was down the hill from the planetarium and observatory proper and lit up against the dark evening sky. It held a distinct atmosphere of privileged and slightly secret sophistication. Such things weren’t unfamiliar to Amelia, but as an earl’s youngest daughter whose closest sibling was ten years older, she was more used to the idea of such parties than actually being in attendance.
The black and white tiled entrance hall had soaring archways cut into the walls, through which gleame
