‘But …?’ Elizabeth prompts.

‘But nothing,’ Philip lies, but her steady eyes on him make him continue. ‘It’s just … I owe the Mountbattens so much, but it feels as if my father has been written out of my story somehow.’

‘Couldn’t you have kept his title?’

‘I could but I want to be seen as British. While you were away, they published an opinion poll asking the public whether they think you should marry a foreign prince or not. Nobody showed it to me but I can read. Forty per cent of people don’t want you to have anything to do with a foreigner.’

‘That means sixty per cent don’t mind,’ she points out.

‘True, but why risk the bad feeling? One of the reasons your father has hesitated for so long is my association with the Greek monarchy. Well, I’ve given that up,’ Philip says determinedly. ‘I can live without being called Your Royal Highness if it means I can marry you.’

Chapter 35

She doesn’t need him to say that he loves her, Elizabeth tells herself. Love is just a word. It doesn’t need to be spoken out loud. They are not in a romantic novel, after all. They are two members of a royal family negotiating a marriage that will be beneficial to both of them. Go back a generation or two, and she would have had little say in the business at all.

Philip has said he missed her. He’s said he is happy to give up his title to marry her. Surely that is enough? And now that her father has finally given permission, they can be married soon and she will have everything she wants.

When her father told her to join Philip in his study, she almost ran along the corridor but at the last minute she hesitated, suddenly afraid he had changed and she wouldn’t recognise him. In South Africa she had sometimes closed her eyes only to panic when she couldn’t immediately bring his face to her mind. Then she would pick up his photograph and trace the hard lines of his face with her fingertip, drawing reassurance from that bold stare.

She has felt herself changing while she was away, but what if Philip, too, has changed?

So she was shaky and faintly sick when she opened the door to the study and saw Philip standing there. For a beat, two, they just looked at each other and for Elizabeth it was a heart-stopping moment of utter clarity, because there he was, and everything she ever felt for him came rushing back with complete certainty at the sight of him: he is the one.

Her father has clearly passed on the word and a small gathering has been organised when they go back inside.

‘Philip! Congratulations!’ Her mother kisses him on both cheeks and then turns to gather Elizabeth into a scented embrace, while Margaret hugs them both. ‘We must have champagne.’

Elizabeth’s heart is light as she hugs her sister back and smiles at her father. ‘Thank you, Papa,’ she says fervently.

‘Darling Lilibet,’ he says and kisses her. ‘I’m glad you’re happy,’ he adds, although he looks fretful rather than glad.

‘This is so exciting!’ Margaret claps her hands together. ‘When is the wedding?’

‘We haven’t got that far yet,’ Elizabeth says, laughing. ‘Papa needs to make the official announcement of the engagement first.’

‘I’m afraid that can’t happen yet,’ the King says, not meeting her eyes.

‘Oh, Papa!’ Elizabeth sees the smile drop from Philip’s face like a stone, sees the effort it takes him not to explode. ‘Papa, why can’t you announce it straight away?’ she says, dismayed to find her eyes pricking with tears of disappointment. ‘We’ve waited nine months already!’

‘Lilibet, it’s not just your decision.’ Guilt is making the King sound peevish. ‘Your marriage isn’t something we can just announce. It’s not just about the two of you, however much you might want it to be. All sorts of people have to be consulted. I’ve been in touch with the Prime Minister and he tells me that the heads of the Commonwealth governments have been informed of your plans. I’m sorry to tell you that not all of them are enthusiastic about the idea of your marriage to Philip. The public aren’t keen on the idea of you marrying a foreigner either.’

‘I’m not a foreigner,’ Philip grinds out. ‘I went to school here, I only speak English and I served during the war. And now I’ve given up my hereditary rights and my title and am a British citizen. What more do people want?’

‘I understand that, but you will have to give the country some time to come around to the idea.’

‘Oh, for—!’ Philip manages to swallow down the words in time, but her father is not impressed.

‘I’m sorry if you don’t like it,’ he says coldly. ‘I’m afraid you’ll find this is the reality of marrying Lilibet. We’ll make the announcement on 15th July. Until then, we’ll start to include you both in engagements so that you appear in the Court Circular. You can be seen together but I’m not announcing anything until July.’

***

Her father’s intransigence and Philip’s ill-concealed fury takes some of the shine off Elizabeth’s happiness, but she refuses to let herself be too downcast. The important thing is that they are still engaged and at least now they don’t have to be furtive about their meetings. Philip is invited to a birthday lunch for Queen Mary and is included in the party for Royal Ascot to which he comes in spite of the fact that he doesn’t share her love of racing.

‘I hope you’re not bored,’ she says, biting her lip as she belatedly remembers his presence after a particularly tense race, won after an excruciatingly tight finish by one of the horses in the royal stud.

‘I like watching you watching the race,’ Philip says with a lazy smile. ‘Your face is much more interesting than the horses. Anyway, I’m looking forward to dancing with you tonight.’

It is good to be back at Windsor Castle and to have a party for Royal Ascot after those lean war years. This year there is a ball in the Crimson Drawing Room. The carpet is rolled up and removed along with most of the elaborate gilt sofas and chairs commissioned by George IV. The tall windows are open to the soft June night and the great gilt mirror above the fireplace reflects back the dancers who circle in a kaleidoscope of colourful gowns punctuated with the crisp black and white of the men’s evening dress.

‘This is better,’ Philip says, taking Elizabeth’s hand and setting his free hand at her waist. ‘At least we can dance together now. Remember when we weren’t allowed to and I had to watch you over my partner’s shoulder?’

‘I remember watching you over my partner’s shoulder,’ she says. ‘It always seemed to me that you were very well pleased with your partner.’

‘I was just being polite,’ he says virtuously. ‘It was you I wanted to dance with.’ He pulls her closer. ‘And now I can.’

It is a happy summer for Elizabeth. She now has a private secretary of her own – Jock Colville – to advise her and manage her diary. She has her own car, a Daimler. She is busy with engagements, and now when she hears the shouts of ‘Where’s Philip?’ she isn’t distressed, because she knows where he is and that he wants to marry her.

She is even enjoying social occasions more than she used to. The visit to South Africa has given her more confidence, and she is more relaxed and better at talking to people. Her favourite times, though, are when she and Philip are alone. Whenever he can, he drives up from Corsham and parks openly in the palace courtyard. Sometimes, he pulls the roof of the sports car back and she ties a scarf firmly over her hair to stop it blowing around and they go out to Richmond Park. Wearing sunglasses, they can sit on a bench and nobody gives them a second look. They are just another courting couple enjoying the greenness and the space of the park.