And at the end of the week they moved on to Florence, for more of the same. Until at last, in their third week, they went to Venice. And by then, William and Sarah were closer than ever and more in love. They seemed to think and move as one. To people who watched them and didn’t know who they were, it would have been difficult to believe that they weren’t married.

“It’s been such fun,” Sarah said, as they sat by the swimming pool at the Royal Danieli late one afternoon. “I love Venice,” she said. The entire trip had been like a honeymoon, except that her parents were there, and she and William had not done anything they shouldn’t have, which hadn’t been entirely easy for either of them. But at the outset, they had promised each other they’d behave.

“I love you desperately,” he said happily, soaking up the sun. He had never been happier in his life, and he knew for sure now that he would never leave her. “I don’t think you should go back to New York with your parents,” he said half jokingly, but he opened one eye to see her reaction to what he was saying.

“And what do you suggest I do instead? Move in with your mother at Whitfield?”

“That’s a nice idea. But frankly, I’d prefer to have you with me in London in the house there” She smiled at him. She would have liked nothing more, but it was a dream that would never come to fruition.

“I wish I could, William,” she said softly, as he rolled over on his stomach and got up on his elbows to discuss the matter with her further.

“And just why is it that you can’t? Remind me.” She had a long list of objections that he always pooh-poohed, the first of which was her divorce, and the second his succession to the throne.

“You know why.” But he didn’t want to. And finally she kissed him and urged him to be grateful for what they had. “It’s more than some people have in a lifetime.” She had come to be infinitely grateful for him, and for each moment they shared. She knew only too well how precious it all was, and how rare, and how unlikely that it would ever happen again in her lifetime.

He sat up next to her then, as they watched the boats and the gondolas in the distance, as the spires of St Mark’s Cathedral rose toward the sky. “Sarah …” He took her hand in his. “I’m not playing at this.”

“I know that.”

He leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips, and said something he had never said to her quite that openly before, “I want to marry you.” He kissed her again then in a way that told her he meant it, but eventually she pulled away from him and shook her head with anguish.

“You know we can’t,” she whispered to him as he kissed her.

“We can. I am not going to let my place in the succession or your divorce stop us now. That’s absolutely absurd. No one, but no one, in England gives a damn what I do. The only one I care about is my mother, and she adores you. I told her before you ever met her that I wanted to marry you, and after she met you she said she thought it a very sensible plan. She’s completely for it.”

“You told her before you took me to lunch at Whitfield?” Sarah looked horrified and he grinned at her wickedly.

“I thought she ought to know that you were important to me. I’ve never told her that about anyone before, and she said she was just grateful that she’d lived long enough to see me fall in love with such a nice girl.”

“If I’d known that when you took me there, I’d have gotten out of the car and walked back to London. How could you do that to her? Does she know about the divorce?”

“She does now,” he said seriously. “I told her afterwards. We had a very serious talk before you left London, and she agrees with me completely. She said that feelings like this only come once in a lifetime. And that certainly must be true for me. I’m almost thirty-six years old, and I’ve never felt anything for anyone except occasional desire and frequent boredom.” She laughed at what he said and shook her head in amazement, thinking how totally unpredictable life was, how wonderful, and amazing.

“What if you become an outcast because of me?” She felt as though she had a responsibility to him, but she was greatly relieved by his mother’s reaction.

“Then we’ll come here, and live in Venice. Actually, that might be rather nice.” He looked nonplussed by all her objections. They didn’t worry him at all.

“William, your father was the head of the House of Lords. Think of the disgrace you’ll bring to your family and your ancestors.”

“Don’t be absurd. And they won’t take my seat away. Dear girl, the only thing I cannot be is king. And let me assure you now, there was never the remotest chance of it, thank God. I can’t think of anything I’d hate more. If I thought there was a chance, I’d have given it up myself years ago. Fourteenth in line is purely a matter of prestige, my dear, and barely that, I assure you. It’s nothing I can’t very happily live without.” But she still didn’t want their love for each other to cost him something that could have been important to him, or his family.

“Won’t it embarrass you when people whisper that your wife was married before?”

“Frankly, no. I don’t give a damn. But I also don’t know how everyone would know, unless you tell them. You are not, thank heaven, Wallis Simpson, despite what you seem to think. Does that answer all your ridiculous objections, my love?”

“I … you …” She was stumbling over her own words as she tried to force herself to listen to reason, but the truth was that she loved him to distraction. “I love you so much.” She kissed him hard then, and he held her for ages, and then pulled away from her only slightly to threaten her this time.

“I will not let you go until you agree to be the next Duchess of Whitfield,” he whispered to her. “And if you don’t agree, I shall tell everyone at this swimming pool that you are really Wallis Simpson. … I beg your pardon, the Duchess of Windsor.” Her title stuck in his throat still, and he was very glad they had not accorded her the right to be called Her Royal Highness, which had infuriated David. “Will you agree?” he whispered fiercely, kissing her…. “Sarah, will you?” But he didn’t have to ask her again, she nodded, as tears filled her eyes and he kissed her even more longingly than before. It was a long time before he let her go again, and he smiled as he turned away from her and wrapped himself quickly in a towel when he stood up. “It’s settled then,” he said calmly as he held out a hand to her. “When is the wedding?” It stunned her to hear him talk that way. She couldn’t believe that they were really getting married. How was it possible? How did they dare? What would the King say? And her parents? And Jane? And all their friends.

“You’re really serious, aren’t you?” She looked at him, still stunned by it all, but incredibly happy.

“I’m afraid so, my dear. You’re in for a lifetime of it.” A lifetime of love with him. “All I want from you is the date of the wedding.”

Her eyes clouded for a moment as she looked at him, and she lowered her voice slightly when she answered at last. “My divorce will be final on November nineteenth. It could be any time after that.”

“Are you free on the twentieth?” he asked more than half seriously. And she laughed, giddy with the thrill of what he was saying

“I think that might be Thanksgiving.”

“Very well. What is it you eat for that? Turkey? We’ll have turkey at the wedding.”

She thought about the preparations they’d have to make, and the work for her mother, right after Thanksgiving, and smiled shyly up at him. “How about December first? That way we could have Thanksgiving with my family, and you’d have a little time to meet people before the wedding.” But they both knew it would be a small gathering this time. Particularly after the horror of her anniversary party, she had no desire for an enormous party.

“December first it is.” He pulled her close to him again, against the splendid backdrop of Venice. “I believe, Miss Thompson, we are engaged then. When do we tell your parents?” He looked like a happy schoolboy, as she answered with a giddy grin.

“How about tonight at dinner?”

“Excellent.” After he left her at her room, he called the desk and sent a telegram to his mother at Whitfield. “Happiest moment of my life. Wanted to share it with you at once. Sarah and I are to be married in New York on December first. Hope you will feel up to the journey. God bless. Devotedly, William.”

And that evening in the hotel’s dining room, he ordered the finest champagne, and had it served before they even began dinner, although they usually preferred their champagne at dessert.

“We’re off to quite a start this evening, aren’t we?” Edward commented as he sipped the champagne. It was an exquisite vintage

“Sarah and I have something to share with you,” William said quietly, but he looked happier than Sarah had ever seen him. “With your permission, and with your blessing, we hope, we would like to get married in New York, in December.”

Victoria Thompson’s eyes flew open wide as she looked at her daughter in amazed delight, and for a fleeting instant, which neither woman saw, a bond of understanding passed between the two men. William had spoken to him before they had ever left London And Edward had told him then that if it was what Sarah wanted, he would gladly give the union his blessing. And now he was genuinely thrilled to hear it.

“You have our blessing, of course,” Edward assured him officially as Victoria nodded her consent. “When did this all come about?”

“This afternoon at the swimming pool,” Sarah answered.

“Excellent sport.” Her father commented wryly, and they all laughed. “We’re very happy for you. Good Lord” —it finally dawned on him then—“Sarah is going to be a duchess.” He looked pleased, and impressed, but most of all he was pleased with William, and the kind of man he was.