Her Ladyship is sitting on the sofa next to the inglenook fireplace, flames licking the door of the wood-burning stove. On the oak-beamed mantelpiece is a scrimshawed elephant tusk, dated 1830. I wonder if one of Her Ladyship's ancestors shot the poor beast? I want to ask but she is talking about her thoroughbreds while staff proffer canapes and refill champagne flutes. Suddenly conversation is interrupted by the sight of a dolphin. This is odd. Her Ladyship lives miles from the coast.
Then I realise the bubbles have gone to my head. I'm not at the estate of the Lady in question; she's a fellow passenger on the Hebridean Princess, a small ship that cruises among Scotland's islands. The wood-burning stove, it turns out, is — for obvious reasons — electric. Egon, the steward, smart in tartan trousers, motions to top up my glass once more. I resist. "Are you driving?" he asks with a grin, as the ship rides the waves.
The Queen has (twice) chartered this floating country house that is the only remaining British-registered — and flagged — cruise ship. Media tycoons and Formula One stars have also succumbed to its comfortable charms, hosting extravagant board meetings and celebrations with up to 50 friends and family, looked after by 38 crew.
The 236ft ship began its cruising life in the 80s as a ferry, with four car spaces for passengers.
This exclusive bring-your-own-car option is no more. Once ashore, passengers depart more conventionally in chartered coaches, but there are bicycles on board should you wish to explore independently. My ears had pricked when, in the evening briefing, our guide Pat Cannings mentioned that on Islay there was the option of a nine-mile bike ride to a fine Celtic cross. That the coastal ride included a car-free cycle route enticingly named the Three Distilleries Way was a bonus.