When every guest was in place, fanning themselves and desperate for a drink, the great doors at one end of the room swung open, and the King began the long walk to the throne at the far end.

Lizzie recalled the Dame describing a ball at the palace in Voltavia, with King Alphonse in full dress military uniform, glittering with gold braid. ‘So splendid, my dear! So magnificent!’ Kings didn’t dress like that any more, which Lizzie thought a pity, but she ceased to regret it when she saw Daniel in white tie and tails, which seemed to emphasise his height and the breadth of his shoulders. On some men, anything was magnificent.

First there were the duty dances. The King took the floor with a succession of titled ladies-a member of the British royal family, the ambassador’s wife, the wife of a prominent international banker. Lizzie guessed there were a lot to go before he reached her.

She wasn’t short of partners, and Frederick, one of the king’s aides, solicited her hand several times. He danced well and asked her many questions about herself. Acting on orders, she thought, and kept her answers light and unrevealing. If Daniel wanted to know about her, he could do his own asking.

Occasionally the dance brought them close, but he never looked in her direction. That might have been courtesy to his partner, but once, when he wasn’t dancing, Lizzie glanced up to where he sat alone on the throne and found him watching her. After that she knew he was conscious of her even when he wasn’t looking.

At last Frederick approached her again, not to dance this time but to give a correct little bow and ask, ‘Would you like the honour of dancing with His Majesty?’