“I can, and—”

“And you are enormously sorry for the impropriety and reckless exhibitionism.”

“I am, but I can explain—”

“Enough. Take this from me, Rebecca,” the Queen said. “While I relish your squirming, this may not be the disaster you imagine.”

Nick gestured at me to hand him the phone. I swatted at him.

“Neither is it a delight,” she stressed. “But your Clive overplayed his hand. If you read his piece without the visual aids, it sounds as if you and Nicholas stripped down and fornicated in front of the press pack. But anyone who sees the pictures can tell that the two of you…”

“Thought we were alone,” I finished for her. “Which we did.”

Nick nodded vigorously at me.

“Yes,” Eleanor said. I could hear the rustling of papers through the phone, and I pictured her at the desk in her private quarters, my breasts in front of her, and wanted to die all over again. “It was a clear, studied violation. Many people have come down on your side.” She paused. “Yes, Mummy, I’ll tell her. Mummy wants you to know that actual Idris Elba retweeted a criticism of Clive. Xandra Deane called him a calculating reprobate. Clive, not Mr. Elba.”

I couldn’t help giggling. Next to me, Nick watched in astonishment.

“Stop laughing, Rebecca,” Eleanor snapped. “This isn’t amusing. It was certainly invasive, but that doesn’t mean your judgment wasn’t poor. No one is impressed that you were bonking on the job, I can assure you.” A smile crept into her voice. “Although they are impressed you are bonking at all. I would not have endorsed this as a way to close the book on the rumors about your tiresome love triangle, but it may have worked.”

“Wow,” I said. “That is unexpected.”

“It is indeed.” The smile disappeared from her voice as quickly as it had come. “And this will be the final unexpected moment from the two of you. Finish the remainder of this tour impeccably. No excuses. No mistakes.”

“Roger that,” I said. “You won’t need to call again.”

“I will if the Cubs don’t snap this absurd losing streak. It’s embarrassing to me,” Eleanor sniffed. “Good luck. Do tell the mayor that the Mets ruined my week.”

“I would, but he’s just seen me half-naked.”

“Pish, everyone knows what breasts look like. Yours aren’t remarkable,” Eleanor said, and then she hung up on me.