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Prudence appreciated Phryne’s suggestions about would make the Duke and Duchess of York’s visit more personal and more comfortable but she finally admitted her nervousness as the date of their arrival grew close that it simply amazed her that Phryne was so at ease with the situation. “I will never quite get used to you referring to the third in line to the throne by his Christian name or his wife by her nickname.”
Phryne chuckled and put a comforting arm around her aunt saying, “Aunt P, Bertie is my cousin and I went to school with Buffy. As for his being third in line from the crown, I don’t treat him any different than I do Guy. I will admit, I may be the only Australian to ever say to the future King of British Empire when I caught him picking on his little brothers“, her eyes rolling in memory and her voice suddenly switching mid-sentence from her cultured European accent to her original Collingwood accent, “Rack off, you figjammin' bounce and leave them alone. They weren’t causing you a wink of grief!” Prudence’s eyes got round as saucers and Bert and Cec who were carrying supplies almost dropped the crate from surprise.
“Phryne!”
“Now Aunt P, there’s no point in scolding me for something I said twelve years ago. And it’s nothing I haven’t said to Guy when he picked on Arthur when we were children.” She took a small, sad sigh and said, “And dear Johnny reminded me so of Arthur. To be honest, David’s lucky I didn’t kick him so hard I’d have changed the line of succession.”
As the aghast dowager scurried away shaking her head, the red-raggers, laughing so that tears were streaming down their faces, walked up to Phryne. With grins as big as the Southern sky, both men gave her a brotherly hug as Bert said, “Miss, you may have been cursed with the blood of kings running through your veins, but you make a man proud to be an Aussie!”