Daphne made a stammering sound, her eyes fixed on something unknowable. We hadn’t even begun the procession to Buckingham Palace.

“It’s a shame it’s such a short ride,” I said, though it was shaping up to feel like a lifetime. “It’s a beautiful day. You’ll get a good view of Trafalgar as we make the turn, at least.”

Daphne nodded, looking as numb as the bench seat had made my butt.

“This is as close as I like to get to Trafalgar,” I chattered on. “There are way too many pigeons there that are way too interested in people. And yet I know no people who are interested in them. You’d think they’d take the hint.”

More nodding. Maybe I needed to throw off propriety and go for cheap humor. Nothing could be worse than prattling about birds.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty nervous about this state dinner,” I tried. “It’s my first one. I’m wearing a tiara tonight that I can barely balance on my head. You know there’s a bookmaker somewhere laying odds that I’ll fall on my face, because they all hate me.”

Aha. A mild twitch of the lip.

“I have such great memories of this carriage route, too,” I pressed on. “The last time I did it, about a hundred thousand people were calling me a slut.” I took a beat. “I’m really going to miss that.”

A giggle escaped, and Daphne covered her mouth with both hands.

“Care to do the honors?” I teased. “It’d make this so nostalgic for me.”

Now she let out a burst of laughter. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not funny,” she said.

“It is. Now,” I said. “Or at least, making a joke out of it is the only way I’m going to get through this without sweaty palms.” I stretched them out between us. “Whoops, too late.”

Daphne clutched at her chest in a sweet, old-timey way. “I’m so glad I’m not the only one this happens to,” she said. “I thought you were very brave that day. I would faint if that happened to me. I’m not very good at this.”

“No one has ever called me good at this,” I said. The carriage jerked to life. “And I wasn’t brave at all. We got by on a combination of shock and having no other choice. Inside I was a mess.”

Daphne exhaled tremulously. “This is the first time I’ve left the Netherlands since…”

She didn’t say it, but she didn’t have to. Daphne had been seventeen when she was kidnapped by a group of political radicals who wanted to replace the monarchy with an atheist oligarchy. She was lucky that they had been very bad at kidnapping and were caught before a full day elapsed.