As we waited off-camera with the Palace advisors, Edgar told me, “You’re going to be splendid. The country will forget all about me.”

“The country will embrace both of you, God willing,” said Marc.

“People just want to see if I’ll barf. And what color.”

“They’ve already increased the estimate to three hundred million viewers worldwide,” said Alison, who’d masterminded the interview. “Polls have Edgar’s approval rating at ninety-two percent, with Carter hovering around seventy percent, which is a vast improvement from earlier in the week.”

I’d been staying off social media to dodge such statistics, but I was glad my numbers were rising. Adam had texted me that, according to CNN, “Almost no one thinks you’re a Scientologist who’s trying to convert Edgar, not anymore,” and Louise had liked our attending an Amnesty International banquet (we didn’t get into the disconnect of having former political prisoners speak at a $25,000-a-plate dinner).

The studio buzzed with grips, camera operators and production assistants going about their tasks. The set was flimsy, with its green screen backdrop, which would project an abstract rotating globe, but with proper lighting and close-ups, everything would be transformed into must-watch morning show prestige.

Caroline Chadwick, our host, was already seated and having her microphone clipped to the neckline of her sleeveless, tomato red sheath, the choice for newswomen everywhere who want to appear professional but svelte. Caroline, who’s England’s foremost news/entertainment/chat personality, was approachably glamorous; she was you, if you had access to stylists, round-the-clock day care, publicists, a driver and interns who’d been forbidden to make eye contact.

Edgar and I were brought to chairs opposite Caroline, and I’d been trained, by my associate event background, to sit on the tail of my jacket so it wouldn’t scrunch up, to push my shoulders back and to not put my hands in my lap. The key to talk-show appearances is to stay relaxed and completely artificial at the same time.

After a stage manager’s countdown and Caroline’s pounding theme music, the lights became blinding and Caroline swiveled to the camera, chirping, “Good morning, everyone, and welcome to Caroline and Company. And what a divinely special morning this is. Because today, as promised, my guests are His Royal Highness Prince Edgar and his much-talked-about American companion of late, one Carter Ogden.”

As Caroline filled in the most up-to-the-minute data on what she called our “burgeoning affiliation,” Edgar touched my arm and murmured, “Here we go.”

“Good morning, Your Highness and Mr. Ogden. It’s marvelous to have you here for your very first live-on-the-air, in-depth interview as a couple.”

“It’s our pleasure, Caroline,” said Edgar. “We always enjoy your program, and thank you for asking us.”

Using a host’s first name warms things up; it’s why politicians tell newscasters, “Hank, that’s why I’m in favor of nuclear power plants near schools.”