One frabjous day in a Swiss chalet the author tripped upon some true copies of the hitherto unpublished, locked-in-the-Royal Archives, ""Darling Daisy"" letters, which King Edward VIII (then Prince of Wales) wrote to Frances, Countess of Warwick, an aristocratic paramour of the indefatigable Royal romancer during the 1890's. He always signed himself ""Your Only Love."" Time, as this cliche-clutching author would surely say, marched on. The Countess became the first Socialist peeress (a political coloration Edward regarded with more horror than say, syphilis) and she spent money like spa water. By 1914, she was up to her coronet in debt. Cool. She was cool. Aligning herself with sneaky Frank Harris, the old girl held up the Royal Family for 125,00 (then worth about $600,000). Her ploy was the threat to publish ""Dear Edward's"" letters; her rationalization was that entertaining him on the scale he had demanded was what beggared her. Gad! But them royals know how to hang onto a buck. She shrewdly went to one of her creditors who was title hungry. The crafty palace let him handle negotiations and it cost him a packet. His reward was a belated baronetcy. A note on the author says he writes for Britain's Sunday Mirror. You can believe it. What to a social historian with a sense of humor could have been revealing source material to start from is written pursy-mouthed as in a sensational expose for a Sunday Supp series aiming at the titillation of chars.