“It’s exciting, really. You stare down that slope and you think what a thrilling ride it’s going to be. In your head, you map out exactly where you’re going to turn, how fast, how damned magnificent you’re going to look as you swish your way downward. Then a glorious finish to start all over again. Rapturous applause from the poor slobs waiting at the bottom.”

“Sounds like a scream,” I said.

“That’s the general idea, isn’t it? Or nobody would try. So you push off, all dressed up in your fine new skiing clothes, and at first it goes exactly how you expect, just exhilarating fun, everybody admiring how you’ve mastered the hill. Until you find a patch of ice, maybe, or the slope turns steep, or you take a wrong turn, and all at once you’ve lost control. You’re flying and flying and there’s no one to stop you, no one to catch you, no one to save you. The slope becomes your master instead of the other way around. You see the end approaching, and there’s nothing you can do to avoid it anymore. You’ve started the whole thing in motion, and you’ve got to see it through, no matter how bad the crash at the bottom. How many people you strike down along the way.” She lifted the glass to her lips and drained the last of the champagne, all the while staring at her own elegant, painted face, or maybe the two men who stood on either side of it. It was hard to tell from this angle. Thorpe propped his elbow on the mantel, listening to the duke. How I loved that profile of his. That thatch of strawberry-gold on top. The cigar dangled from his hand. As I searched for words, the duchess wiped away a smudge of crimson lipstick from the rim of her glass and added, “Of course, it’s different for you, lucky thing.”

“Different how?”

“You’re so beautifully in love with him.” The duchess turned to face me. Her eyes glittered. “Dearest Lulu. May I offer you a word of advice?”

“Yes, of course.”

She laid her left hand on my left hand, ring to ring. “Never marry a man thinking you’ll change him.”

Afterward, they offered us the Government House limousine to take us home, but I said I’d rather start married life in the sidecar of Thorpe’s motorcycle. The duchess said I’d ruin the dress. I said I’d take my chances.

“Thanks for everything. The dress, the surprise. The lovely party.”

She waved her hand. “Oh, it was my pleasure, Lulu. You know I’m nothing but an old romantic at heart.”

I glanced at Thorpe, who was shaking hands with the duke, chortling amicably. The sunlight turned both heads the same shade of golden-white. “I never realized you were a skier.”

“I’m not,” she said.