“Oh, goodness,” Her Majesty started to say.
“None for me, thanks,” Lou chimed in.
“Oh, yes,” Her Majesty said. “I don’t think I’ll have any either. An old lady has to be very careful of her system, you know.”
“You do not look like an old lady,” Petkoff said gallantly. “Middle-aged, perhaps, to be cruel. But certainly not old. Not over ... oh, perhaps forty.”
Her Majesty smiled politely at him. Malone began to wonder if it had been gallantry, after all. From what he’d seen of the Russian women, it was likely, after all, that Petkoff really thought Her Majesty wasn’t much over forty at that.
“You’re very flattering, Major,” Her Majesty said. “But I assure you that I’m a good deal older than I look.”
Malone tried to tell himself that no one else had noticed the stifled gulp that had followed that remark. It had been his own stifled gulp. And his face, he felt sure, had aged one hundred and twelve years within a second or so. He waited for Her Majesty to tell Major Petkoff just how old she really was....
But she said nothing else. After a second she turned and smiled at Malone.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Oh, you’re quite welcome,” she said.