“I’d rather live in poverty with Darcy than with a rich man I didn’t love,” I said hotly.

She smiled. “So young. So romantic. You’ll learn. And if you’re smart you’ll snag yourself an American millionaire on the ship.”

“Are there any millionaires in America these days?” I said, smiling at the absurdity of her suggestion.

“Of course there are. Live with him for a year, divorce him again and you’ll be set up for life.”

“Like you did, you mean? And then have all the trouble of trying to divorce him again? That’s not for me, thank you,” I said.

“You’re just like my father,” Mummy said, frowning. “Too damned proud and honorable.”

“You’ve been to see Granddad?” My heart leaped at the mention of the man I loved almost as much as Darcy. My mother’s father was a retired London bobby who now lived in a semidetached in Essex, bought for him when Mummy was in the first flush of fame.

“I have, and he won’t take a penny from me. Claims it’s German money and he’ll never forgive the Germans for the Great War.” I had heard him say the same kind of thing.

“How is he?” I asked, feeling a wave of longing for my grandfather.

“Not too well, actually. I offered to take him with us to America. I thought a sea voyage would do him good, but he refused.”

“I must go and see him before we sail,” I said. “How long do you think we’ll be away?”

“Not too long, I hope. A few days in New York—at least they’ve started drinking legally again. Those speakeasies were such a bore. And then a train ride across the country to Reno. Let’s hope we have it all sewn up and back within a month. Max pines if I leave him too long.”

I turned to look at her. “Do you really want to marry Max and live in Germany?”

“Darling, he’s richer than God and the sex is divine. He’s like a rampant stud bull and he wants it several times a night.”

I felt my face turning bright red at the mention of such things, having led a sheltered life so far.

“But you don’t speak German and you don’t like German food.”

She shrugged. “I can stand a week or two in Berlin when necessary. It’s really quite civilized if that nasty little Hitler man doesn’t last long. Besides, when Max saw that I loved the villa in Lugano that we were renting, he bought it for me. So I now have a bolt-hole in Switzerland. He’s so generous. I may even learn to converse with him some day. I’ve promised to take German lessons.”

“Granddad won’t like that,” I said.

“Then he’ll have to lump it,” she said with true Cockney candor.