The two primary British protagonists implicated in the Epstein files – Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor and Peter Mandelson – have spent the last five days competing with each other for invidious headlines. The latter has briefly overtaken interest in Andrew when it was revealed the now former Labour lord weaponised his position as business secretary to share confidential state information with a convicted paedophile on the other side of the Atlantic. This extraordinary abuse of power has seen the current Labour prime minister Keir Starmer fighting off questions concerning his own judgement and that of his party.

However, ex-prince Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor and the royal family he belongs to are never far behind. Apparently, under the cover of darkness, the ex-duke made his escape to Sandringham estate earlier this week, while his younger brother fended off an Epstein query on stage in Dubai. Prince Edward’s initial response – “with the best will in the world I am not sure this is the audience that is probably the least bit interested in that” – could not have been further from the mark.

Once more Andrew has placed his family at the epicentre of this sordid global story, with the drip feed of compromising information almost constant: disturbing pictures of the former prince on all fours looming over the body of a young woman, jocular emails with Epstein promising more “plotting” and the “privacy” of Buckingham Palace, and a fresh police enquiry into allegations that Epstein trafficked a woman to the UK for Andrew’s pleasure.

It is small wonder that in the immediate aftermath of this latest Epstein file dump, the British prime minister channelled his inner lawyer in response to journalists’ quick-fire questions. Last Saturday, on the final leg of an epic Asian tour, an emboldened PM urged the former prince to give evidence before a US congressional committee, concluding with the prescient words: “You can’t be victim-centred if you’re not prepared to do that.”

Starmer would not be drawn on whether Andrew should apologise, and nor did he explicitly state that the King’s brother should submit himself to congressional interrogation, but his response left few in any doubt: “Yes, in terms of testifying, I have always said anybody who has got any information should be prepared to share that information in whatever form they are asked to do that.”

In what was a clear departure from Starmer’s previous claim that to testify was a decision for Andrew alone, the prime minister has provided grist to the mill for an American administration quick to shift the blame. Asked if Mountbatten-Windsor should give evidence, Vice President JD Vance replied: “I saw Keir Starmer said something about this. I’m certainly open to it.”

The cumulative impact of this political approach is unwelcome at the palace. By all accounts, the King was taken aback to discover that the latest graphic Andrew revelations were accompanied by a seemingly direct intervention from His Majesty’s prime minister. Taken in conjunction with news that Bill and Hilary Clinton will now give evidence in front of the Congressional Committee, at the same time as Andrew could be subject to another police investigation, all serve to put unwelcome pressure on His Majesty.

Starmer’s strident response in relation to the Andrew question has proved particularly irksome, primarily because it had not been run past the palace. According to one inside source, the King was both “incandescent” that Starmer suggested Andrew should give evidence, and likewise annoyed that he had not been consulted beforehand.

Constitutionally, political statements involving the royal family are usually run past… the royal family. (Which perhaps explains why the Andrew question is such a festering mess.) But in a departure from political norms, that was not the case this weekend. Miles from home, retrospectively basking in the unfettered adulation of China and receptive Japan, Starmer briefly forgot his constitutional manners. A subconscious slip? Or a deliberate side step? After all, it must irritate our beleaguered prime minister that he cannot shift the dial on his own dismal public standing, while the King currently enjoys 60 per cent approval ratings and says nothing. Likewise, when I asked the palace to confirm the rumour that the King was piqued with his prime minister, answer came there none.

Which brings us back to the question of Andrew, and its implications for the monarchy. Until Starmer mooted the ex-Duke’s appearance in front of a congressional committee, presumably His Majesty believed royalty’s belated defenestration of his younger brother would suffice. The presumption was that a downgrade to a free farmhouse on the Sandringham Estate and the removal of numerous titles and honours would be punishment enough for an ex-prince who loved to “play” with the world’s most notorious paedophile and subsequently lie about it. But now Starmer’s comments have taken on a life of their own, none of this reflects well on the royal household.

After all, Queen Camilla has been refreshingly forthright on the subject of domestic abuse and violence against women. Her Majesty has made a TV documentary about the subject, hosts events at the palace for prominent campaigning charities, and in an October 2025 statement regarding Andrew’s further withdrawal from public life, both the King and Queen insisted “their thoughts and utmost sympathies have been, and will remain with, the victims and survivors of any and all forms of abuse”.

Quite so. As Starmer insisted: “victim-centred” sympathies must be backed up through action: in Andrew’s case, by giving evidence. All of which has led people to ask, if our weak prime minister can say it, why can’t the King? And therein lies the rub.

Constitutionally, the monarch should not direct or pressure anyone – including his brother – in legal matters. Convention demands that the sovereign remains politically neutral and above legal and parliamentary processes both at home and abroad.

Yesterday, Prince Edward, as a mere Duke, was under no such restriction, yet his victim-focused answer suggests the royal family is keen to steer away from suggestions that Andrew should testify. Like us, the royal family are unsure of what was involved in the ex-prince’s nefarious relationship with Epstein. But they do know that the arrogant former Duke is loose with the truth.

To date, Andrew’s buffoonery has been “limited” to a 2019 BBC Newsnight interview with Emily Maitlis, but the prospect of him giving evidence under oath in America is a very different matter. The result would be an almighty media and legal circus, with potentially dire ramifications for both Mountbatten-Windsor and the wider Royal family – who many feel protected him for too long. Here, it is worth pointing out, lying under oath in the US is an imprisonable offence, and one of the many reasons why Andrew’s chum, Ghislaine Maxwell, is currently languishing in prison.

At the moment, protected within Britain’s legal jurisdiction, Andrew, unlike the Clintons, cannot be threatened with contempt of court. But by mooting the prospect of his cooperation, Keir Starmer has flicked a political switch, and placed unwelcome onus on the King. A big “no no” in the playbook of constitutional monarchy and one which could have consequences for our beleaguered Labour prime minister.

The weekly audience between monarch and first minister usually takes place on a Wednesday, when the King could have reminded Starmer of his “right to be consulted”. Maybe Charles went further and exercised his “right to warn”. A gentle reminder of constitutional propriety is not unheard of between a sovereign and his prime minister.

Although the exchanges are private, history tells us that the late Queen’s reign wasn’t immune to tensions with No 10; low points included differences with Thatcher over South African apartheid and sanctions, the death of Diana when Blair’s focus on the ‘people’s princess’ was at odds with Elizabeth’s, and in her last years, the late Queen was a victim of Brexit fallout, with Boris Johnson proroguing parliament only to be overruled by the Supreme Court. It is unlikely that any rift between Charles and Starmer will last long; after all, the latter requires a good working relationship with his monarch if only to help manage Donald Trump. And the prime minister’s own flirtation with a “victim-centred” approach is being questioned in light of his decision to make Mandelson our US ambassador.

In this era of showmanship and strongmen, the cold reality is that the rules-based order that suggests privileged men who cavorted with paedophiles should give evidence to court hearings is wishful thinking on behalf of lefty lawyers (cue Starmer). Realpolitik dictates that Andrew cannot be allowed to ever speak in public again, let alone give evidence under oath. If that means his protectors, the royal family, look hypocritical, so be it. While other royal players enjoy more freedom, constitutionally, the king has very little wiggle room.

The only court that will judge whether the Windsors have dodged a curveball is the court of public opinion. It was Wallis Simpson’s unpopularity in middle England that saw government advice directly conflict with the wishes of Edward VIII in 1936. The King chose marriage over monarchy and abdicated. Today, the stakes are not nearly as high, but nor is monarchy as popular. At the moment, the King, reigning over the demise of a fallen prince, is enjoying unprecedented poll ratings – proof if any were needed that the public is fickle. However, the long-term royal trajectory is downwards, and if Charles is not careful, history might judge this Carolingian era as the beginning of the end of popular constitutional monarchy.

Tessa Dunlop is the author of ‘Elizabeth and Philip, the Story of Young Love, Marriage and Monarchy’