He flushed. “Sorry, that wasn’t very diplomatic, was it, and my old man wants me to become an ambassador someday. I’m sure you’d be a delightful partner and you’ve got a good strong right arm. I’m Jerry by the way. Are you staying in town or are you heading out?”

“A few days in New York, I believe, and then we’re going across the country by train.”

“To California?”

“To Nevada, I think.”

“Interesting.” Tubby Halliday had moved closer to me. “The only reason anyone goes to Nevada is to get a divorce.”

“We might be looking at buying land,” I said, giving him a cold stare.

“No land worth buying in Nevada,” Tubby went on. “And I see that the famous Mrs. Simpson is on board. Rumor has it that she’s going home to Baltimore for that very reason.”

“Buying land?” I asked innocently.

He laughed. “Getting a divorce from Mr. Simpson.”

“Gee whiz. Then she does intend to marry the prince,” the young American said. “Wouldn’t that be a turnup for the books. Imagine a Yankee queen. What would you Limeys say about that?”

“It couldn’t happen,” I said. “The Prince of Wales wouldn’t be allowed to marry a divorced woman. When he’s king he’ll become head of the Church of England which does not accept divorce.”

“We’ll see,” the American said. “From what I’ve heard, she’s a lady who likes to get her own way.”

“Not against centuries of English tradition,” I said.

“There’s a way around anything,” the American said, taking an easy drag on his cigarette. “Go ahead. It’s your turn.”

I tossed the quoit down the deck. He was right, of course. I had thought that I would not be allowed to marry Darcy because he was a Roman Catholic and I was in the line of succession to the throne—albeit only thirty-fifth. But it had been pointed out to me that all I had to do was renounce my claim to the throne and I was free to marry whom I pleased. Since I wasn’t likely to be queen unless the Black Death swept through the country again, this would be an easy decision. We hadn’t announced our plans to marry yet, since neither of us had a penny to our names.

Tubby Halliday had moved closer to me. “So is your mother really going to get a divorce? Who is she actually married to?”

“It’s really none of your business, Mr. Halliday,” I said.

“Tubby, please. We’re all on first-name terms on a ship. I was just interested. She is a public figure, after all, and public figures are fair game, aren’t they?”

“Why this morbid interest in everyone else’s life, Mr. Halliday?” I asked. “It’s not quite done, is it?”