And yet I, too, felt fidgety all morning, worried that this moment wasn’t getting the gravitas it was due, that we were about to let it pass us by like any other wedding, like he was any other man. I wanted to wish him one last goodbye, and put a period on the run-on sentence that was Freddie’s and my curious relationship to one another.

I’d had a little something made for him, so while Nick finished the exacting process of getting his military insignia right, I tucked the gift into my purse and told Nick I’d meet him downstairs.

“Takes me half an hour extra just to get down there,” I’d cracked.

“Try the scooter,” he replied from the dressing area. “It’ll change your life.”

Grinning, I scooped up my trusty navy suede pumps—I was not going to wear them a second longer than I had to—and padded down the hallway to rap on the door to Freddie’s suite. The valet they hired for him opened the door, then goggled a little before pulling it together and waving me inside.

“Ah!” Freddie said. “Het is mijn favoriete…duchess,” he finished lamely. “How’d I do, Jan?”

“Flawless,” said the kid.

“You’re lying, but that’s why I like you,” Freddie said. “Why don’t you head off? Bex can escort me downstairs.”

Jan bowed deeply and retreated into the hallway. When the door shut, I turned and drank in Freddie in his uniform, exuding a preternatural calm, and immediately burst into tears.

“No, no, none of that,” Freddie said, plucking two tissues from a box on the table and walking them over to me. He rubbed my back as I blew into them. “Although I will miss your honking noises.”

I wiped my eyes. “It’s stupid to cry. You’re only a flight away,” I said. “I’m hormonal.”

He gave me a sidelong squeeze. “Maybe you are,” he said. “But I feel it, too.”

“The crew back in England sends its regards,” I said, muffled by the tissue. “Even Bea, in pretty much those exact words.”

“She wouldn’t be Bea if she sent a florid goodbye,” he said. “I hope they didn’t mind not being here. But it would be harder to cope with leaving London if I saw all their faces today. Cilla said Gaz couldn’t even look at the invitation without wailing.”

“Yes, I think everyone agrees it was for the best.” I welled up again. “I’m not much better, though. I swear I didn’t come in here to cry all over you.”

I popped open the clasp on my bag and dug around for his gift: a tiny pin composed of two flags, the Union Jack and the Dutch tricolor one, crossed at the poles.