“He was new to me, but the regulars accorded him an old deference rather like that given to those of royal lineage. In time I discovered he was indeed a prince, but a barbarian prince of blood feuds, street warfare, gaudy wealth, and brute power. Suavity was a cloak he wore in cold blood when things were going his way. I mistook it for integrity and found out too late how different he could be when in a passion.”

The lights dimmed, and a single spotlight tricked the eye into keeping focus on her while the dancers flitted into new positions as if filing into pews. The music changed to something majestic but somber as the man stood behind her and solemnly draped a white veil over her head. The sternness of his expression and his movement did not suggest a groom doting on his bride but a man putting a collar on a highly bred, highly prized, temperamental bitch.

“Persuasion amused him but did not move him. Tantrums vexed him and did not move him. I began by admiring him for having a strength of purpose that matched my own; I ended by hating him for having a strength of purpose that matched my own. My life was a play, but I was not the director nor the lead. I was not even a supporting character. I was a prop.”

By now the lights were so dim that her face, covered in gauzy white, looked like it was drowning in fog. There was an awful pause.

“But it improved . . . or perhaps we matured.”

Music and lighting both brightened. She moved across the now empty floor. The dining tables behind her had been stripped bare of their white cloths, revealing heavy business desks. Some of the supporting cast sat, others stood, still others moved briskly from desk to desk, and in the center was the largest desk of all with her husband behind it.

“We carved out our own spheres, ruled our separate kingdoms.”

Two men swiftly brought in a chaise lounge and placed it behind her. Without giving them a backward glance, she reclined on it and watched various people assemble and disperse before her: small tea parties, media interviews, and a constant swirl of household staff, decorators, designers, musicians, and artists.

“Of course,” the narration intoned, “ruling is not the only duty of a queen. Heirs are required for the kingdom, and in that I was deficient. He was supportive, reassuring me with fresh honeymoons and undivided attention, but I tried to glimpse the truth behind the effort. It was there in the caution and concern of the doctors I consulted. I caught hints of it in the side glances of some of the staff. They were assessing the likelihood that I might be set aside . . . gently, of course, but still, needs must. He loved me after his own fashion, but he had long ago learned to be ruthless about his own desires.