Their rooms at the Ritz, when they arrived, were absolutely beautiful. This time Sarah had a suite entirely separate from theirs, with a view of the Place Vendôme. She had to admit to herself as she stood in her room that there was something bittersweet about being there alone, and it would have been infinitely more enjoyable if she could have been there with her husband.

She sighed and went to bed alone in the enormous bed, under the down comforter, and in the morning, they went to the Louvre, and spent hours there. It was a very gratifying day for her parents, as was the rest of the trip. She was no longer resisting them, and in Paris they only had one friend, an old friend of Edward’s mother, and she invited them to tea on the rue Jacob. But there were no social events for Sarah to avoid. She could just enjoy the museums and the cathedrals and the shops, and the time she spent there with her parents.

Deauville was a little more strained, because the people they visited there insisted on forcing Sarah to meet their son, and did everything possible to provoke some interest between them. He was very interested in her, but Sarah found him unattractive, uninformed, and incredibly boring. She spent their entire stay there doing everything she could to avoid him. Likewise, the two brothers that were forced on her in Biarritz, and the grandson pressed on her in Cannes, not to mention the two “charming” young men introduced to her by their friends in Monte Carlo. By the end of their stay on the Riviera, Sarah was in a black mood, and barely speaking to her parents.

“Did you enjoy the Riviera, dear?” Victoria said to her innocently as they packed, preparing to leave the next day for London.

“No, I really didn’t,” Sarah said bluntly “Not at all”

“Really?” Her mother looked up in surprise, she thought she had been having a lovely time. They had been on several yachts, had spent a good deal of time on the beach, and had gone to several really splendid parties. “How disappointing.”

“I want you to know something, Mother.” Sarah looked at her squarely, and put down the white blouse she had been packing “I have not come to Europe to find another husband. I might remind you that, until November anyway, I am still married. And after that, I hope never to be married again. I’m sick and tired of everyone you know trying to force their idiot sons on me, or their illiterate grandsons, or their moronic cousins. I haven’t met a man here yet whom I can talk to, let alone want to spend as much as an hour with. I don’t want another man in my life, and I don’t want to be dragged all over Europe, shown off like some sort of backward girl, desperately in need of a husband. Is that clear?” Her mother looked stunned as she nodded. “And by the way, do any of these people know that I’ve been married before?”

Victoria shook her head. “I don’t really think so.”

“Well, maybe you should tell them. I’m sure they’d be far less enthusiastic about throwing their little idiot darlings at me if they knew that I was a divorced woman.”

“That’s not a crime, Sarah,” her mother said quietly, knowing full well how Sarah viewed it. To Sarah, it was a crime. An unforgivable sin she could not forgive herself, and she didn’t expect anyone else to either.

“It’s nothing to be proud of. And most people would hardly consider it an asset.”

“I didn’t suggest that it was, but it is not an insuperable affliction. There are people you’ll meet who will know, and who won’t mind. And when the time is right, with people who don’t know, you can always tell them, if you feel you have to.”

“Yes, it’s rather like a disease. One owes it to people to warn them.”

“Of course not. Only if you want to.”

“Maybe I should just wear a sign. You know, like a leper.” She sounded angry and bitter and sad, but she was sick of being paired off with young boys who held absolutely no interest whatsoever for her, and almost tore her clothes off. “Do you know what that de Saint Gilles boy did in Deauville? He stole all my clothes while I was changing, and then came in and tried to rip off my towel. He thought he was incredibly amusing.”

“How dreadful!” Her mother looked shocked. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I did. To him. I told him that if he didn’t give me back my clothes at once, I was going straight to his father, and the poor thing was so frightened, he gave me everything back and begged me not to tell anyone. He really was pathetic.” It was something a sixteen-year-old would do, not a man of twenty-seven. And they had all been like that so far, immature, spoiled, arrogant, ignorant, uneducated. She couldn’t bear it. “I just want you and Father to know that I am not here in Europe to look for a husband.” She reminded her mother again, as her mother nodded, and Sarah went back to her packing.

Victoria mentioned the incident to her husband that night, and told him about the young man in Deauville, and he thought the prank was stupid, but certainly harmless.

“The real problem is that she’s more mature than all of them. She’s been through a lot too. She needs someone older, more mature. These boys have no idea how to handle her. And given how she feels about getting involved with anyone again, they only annoy her. We have to be careful who we introduce her to in London.” The idea was not to turn her away from men completely, but at least to find one or two whose company she might enjoy, to remind her that there was more than solitude in life. But the boys she had met so far only made solitude look more appealing.

They went back to Paris the next day, and crossed the channel in seven hours by the Golden Arrow train and ferry the following morning. And they arrived at Claridge’s in time for dinner. They were met at the desk by the manager, who showed them to their suite of rooms with the utmost formality and decorum. Her parents had a large bedroom with a view over the rooftops toward Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. They had a sitting room, too, and she had a very pretty room that looked like a boudoir, done in pink satin and rose-covered chintzes. And as she glanced at the desk in her room, she noticed half a dozen invitations, none of which looked like good news to her. She didn’t even bother to open them, and her mother mentioned them to her that night at dinner. As they dined in their suite, Victoria explained that they’d been invited to two dinner parties, and a tea given by old friends, a day in the country in Leicester for a picnic, and a luncheon given in their honor by the Kennedys at the embassy in Grosvenor Square. All of which, as far as Sarah was concerned, sounded incredibly boring.

“Do I have to go with you?” There was a whine in her voice that reminded her mother of her teens, but her father looked firm as he answered.

“Now, let’s not start that again. We all know why we’re here. We’re here to see friends, and we’re not going to insult them by turning down their invitations.”

“Why do they have to see me? They’re your friends, Father, not mine. They won’t miss me.”

“I won’t have it.” He planted a fist down firmly on the table. “And I won’t discuss it with you again. You’re too old for this nonsense. Be courteous, be pleasant, and be good enough to make an effort. Do you understand me, Sarah Thompson?”

Sarah looked at him icily, but he seemed not to notice, or to care how much she objected. He had brought her to Europe for a reason, and he was not going to be deterred from bringing her back out into the world again. No matter how much she resisted him, he knew instinctively that it was exactly what she needed.

“Very well then.”

They finished their meal in silence. And the next day they went to the Victoria and Albert Museum, and had a wonderful time, followed by a very elegant and very stuffy formal dinner. But Sarah did not complain. She wore a dress her mother had bought for her before the trip, a dark-green taffeta that was almost the color of her eyes and suited her to perfection. She looked very beautiful when they arrived, and totally unexcited to be there. She looked as bored as she was, through most of the evening. Several young people had been invited to meet her, and she tried to make an effort to talk to them, but she found she had nothing in common with them. More than anything, most of them seemed very spoiled and very silly, and surprisingly unaware of the world around them.

Sarah was quiet on the way home, and her parents did not ask her if she’d had a good time. It was clear to everyone that she hadn’t. The second formal party was much the same, and the tea party was worse. There, they attempted to force a great-nephew on her, who even her mother had had to admit afterwards, with embarrassment, was foolish and graceless to the point of being childish.

“For God’s sake,” Sarah stormed when they went back to Claridge’s that night. “What’s wrong with these people? Why are they doing this to me? Why does everyone feel they have to pair me off with their idiot relations? What did you say to them when you told them we were coming?” Sarah asked her father, who refused to look defensive. ’“That I was desperate, and they had to help me out?” She couldn’t believe the people she was meeting.

“I merely said that we were bringing you. How they interpreted that was up to them. I simply think they’re trying to be hospitable by inviting young people for you. If you don’t like their relatives or their young friends, then I’m very sorry.”

“Can’t you tell them I’m engaged? Or have a contagious disease? Something so they don’t feel compelled to match me up with anyone? I really can’t bear this. I refuse to keep going to parties and feel like a fool for the entire evening.” She had handled it very well, but her temper was growing short, and it was clear she hadn’t enjoyed it.