“Yes, and he’s paid to run the racing stable by the American who bought the whole shebang. He’s now the hired help on an estate our family has owned for centuries. I can’t go near the place. Too painful.” He paused again. “Not that my father would want to see me anyway. He doesn’t like me very much.”

“He doesn’t approve of your lifestyle?”

Darcy snorted. “He’s hardly in a position not to approve, is he? I wasn’t the one who sold the family heritage. No, it’s simpler than that. He has never forgiven me for staying alive.”

“What?” I looked up at him sharply. His mouth was set in a hard line.

“When the Spanish flu reached us in 1920 I was away at prep school in England. My mother and my two little brothers caught it and died. My school was so freezing cold and miserable that not even the flu could survive there, so I survived. My father once said, when he was in his cups, that whenever he looks at me he is reminded that my mother died and I lived.”

“Hardly your fault,” I said angrily.

“My father never was the most rational of men. Always had a terrible temper and always carried grudges. But let’s not talk about him. We’re about to embark upon an adventure and to hell with our families.”

“That’s right,” I said, covering his hand on the steering wheel with my own. “Since they don’t support us, then it’s none of their business whether we get married or not.”

Lights sped by us from the other direction, illuminating the interior of our car for an instant before plunging us into darkness again. I was picturing telling my family that Darcy and I had married. My brother, Binky, would be happy for me. Fig would not approve because Darcy was penniless and also a Roman Catholic and . . .

“Golly!” I said again, sitting bolt upright in my seat. Darcy turned to look at me. “I can’t marry you, Darcy,” I said. “I’d completely forgotten, but I’m not allowed to. I’m still in the line of succession to the throne and we’re not allowed to marry a Catholic.”

“I thought we agreed you could just renounce your claim to the throne and then all would be well,” he said. He looked at me with a half smile on his face. “Unless, of course, you’d rather give up the chance to marry me just in case you become queen someday.”