They were both startled two hours later, when the phone rang at eight o’clock. It was the front desk, with their wake-up call. They had to be on board the ship at ten o’clock that morning.

“Oh, God …” He groaned, blinking as he groped for the light and the phone at the same time, and then he thanked them politely for calling. He wasn’t sure if he was feeling their love or the champagne, but he felt as though someone had drained him of every drop of life force he had ever had. “I suddenly know what Samson must have felt like after he met Delilah.” He tugged at a long wisp of dark hair curled loosely over one firm breast, and he bent to kiss her nipple and felt himself rise again, unable to believe it. “I think maybe I’ve died and gone to heaven.” They made love again before they got up, and then they had to hurry to dress for the sailing. They didn’t even have time to eat, just to swallow a quick cup of tea before they left, and they were laughing and teasing as they closed their bags and hurried to die waiting limousine, while Sarah tried to look dignified, and suitably like a duchess.

“I had no idea duchesses did things like that,” she whispered to him in the car after they had put up the window between themselves and the driver.

“They don’t. You’re quite remarkable, my darling, believe me.” But he looked as though he had found the Hope Diamond in his shoe as they boarded the Normandie at Pier 88 on West 50th Street. He felt faintly disloyal taking a French ship, but they were so much more fun, and he had heard that the Normandie offered a marvelous crossing.

They were greeted as royalty, and put in the Deauville suite, on the Sun Deck. Its twin suite, the Trouville, was occupied at the time by the maharaja of Karpurthala, who had occupied it several times since his trip on the maiden voyage.

William was very pleased as he looked around their stateroom. “I hate to say it, but the French Line has poor Cunard beaten sadly when it comes to creature comforts.” He had never seen such luxury on a ship, in all his travels around the world. It was a glorious ship, and what they had seen of her as they boarded promised a truly extraordinary crossing.

Their stateroom was filled with champagne and flowers and baskets of fruit, and Sarah noticed that one of the prettiest bouquets came from her parents, and there was another from Peter and Jane. A moment later they arrived, and as Jane whispered a question to her sister the two of them giggled like young girls. But before they sailed Sarah and William both thanked the Thompsons again for the lovely wedding.

“We had a marvelous time,” William assured Edward again. “It was perfect in every way.”

“The two of you must have been exhausted.”

“We were.” William tried to look vague, and hoped that he succeeded. “We had a little champagne when we got to the hotel, and then just collapsed.” But as he said it, Sarah caught his eye, and William hoped that he wasn’t blushing. He pinched her bottom discreetly as he went by, and Victoria was telling Sarah how well her new dress looked on her. They had bought it at Bonwit Teller for her trousseau. It was a white cashmere dress with a wonderful drape on one hip, and over it she had worn the new mink coat her parents had just given her as a present. They told her it would keep her warm during the long English winters. And it looked very stylish on her with a rakish hat trimmed with two enormous black feathers that were attached at the back.

“You look lovely, dear,” her mother said, and for the flash of a moment, Jane felt a pang of jealousy for her sister. She was going to have such a glamorous life, and William was such a dashing man. She loved her own husband dearly, but their life was certainly not exciting. But poor Sarah had had such a difficult time before. It was hard to believe that the sad tale had ended so happily for her. It really was a storybook ending. But the story wasn’t over yet either, and she hoped that Sarah would be happy in England with the duke. It was hard to think otherwise, he was so kind, and so handsome. Jane sighed as she looked at them, standing hand in hand, looking blissfully happy.

“Your Grace …” The chief ship’s officer came to the door of their stateroom and discreetly announced that all guests had to be ashore in the next few minutes. The announcement brought tears to Victoria and Jane’s eyes, and Sarah had to fight back tears as she kissed them, and her father, and Jane’s babies. She clung to all of them, and then hugged her father close for a last time.

“Write to me, please … don’t forget … we’ll be back in London just after Christmas.” They were going to spend the holiday on the Continent alone. William’s mother insisted that she had so many things to do at Whitfield that she would scarcely miss them. And William loved the idea of spending Christmas alone with Sarah in Paris.

She put her fur coat back on, and they all went out on the deck where they kissed her again, and shook hands with William, and then Edward shepherded his little tribe down the gangplank. There were tears in his eyes, too, and as his eyes met Sarah’s from the dock, the tears began to slide unrestrained down his cheeks and he didn’t even try to hide them.

“I love you,” she mouthed, waving frantically with one hand, and clinging to William with the other. She blew kisses to all of them as they left the dock in a hail of confetti and streamers, and somewhere on another deck a band played the “Marseillaise,” and as she watched them drift away from her, she knew she would never forget how much they all meant to her at that moment.

William held tightly to her hand until the huge ship began slowly to turn into the Hudson River, and then they could no longer see anyone on the dock. There were tears running down her cheeks, and a sob caught in her throat as he pulled her into his arms again. “It’s all right, darling, I’am here…. We’ll come back to see them soon. I promise.” And he meant it.

“I’m sorry … it seems so ungrateful of me…. It’s just … I love them all so much … and I love you …” So much had happened in the past few days, she was still a little overwhelmed by all her emotions. He led her back to their cabin again, and offered her some more champagne, but she admitted with a tired smile that what she really longed for was a cup of coffee.

He rang for the steward then and ordered coffee for her, and jasmine tea for himself, and a plate of cinnamon toast in lieu of breakfast. And they sat munching and drinking and chatting and soon her grief had ebbed, and she was feeling better. He liked that about her though, that she cared so much, and she was so open about her feelings.

“What would you like to do today?” he asked as he glanced over the menus and the brochures, showing them all the sports and diversions that were offered on the enormous ship. “Want to swim in the pool before lunch? Or have a game of shuffleboard? We can go to the cinema right after tea. Let’s see, they’ve got Marcel Pagnol’s The Baker’s Wife playing, if you haven’t seen it.” In truth, she had, and she had loved Pagnol’s Harvest the year before, but she didn’t care. It was so much fan doing things with him, and she moved closer to look at the brochure with him. She was amazed at how much the French Line offered their passengers, and as she read, she felt him touch her neck, and then his hand slid slowly to her breast, and then suddenly he was kissing her, and the next tiling she knew they were on the bed, and all other forms of diversion were forgotten. It was lunchtime by the time they came to their senses again, and she laughed huskily as she munched on a piece of the cinnamon toast that still sat on a plate near the bed.

“I guess we’re not going to be doing much in the way of sports this trip, eh?”

“I’m not entirely sure we’re ever going to get out of the cabin.” And as though to prove that to him, she teased him again and he took her up on it rather more quickly than she had expected.

They made it all the way to the bathtub after that, and made love again there, and by the time they ventured out again, it was late afternoon, and they were both looking a little embarrassed at the hours they’d kept.

“We’re going to get a hell of a reputation on this ship,” William whispered to her. “It’s a good thing we’ve come over on the French Line.”

“Do you suppose they know?” Sarah looked a little nervous. “After all, it is our honeymoon …”

“Oh God, that’s right. How could I forget. You know, I think I forgot my wallet on the desk. Do you mind if we go back for it?”

“Not at all,” she agreed amenably, but unable to imagine why he needed it here. But he was quite insistent. So she went back to the stateroom with him, and followed him inside. He shut the door as she walked in, and as soon as the door was closed behind them, he grabbed her.

“William!” she squealed, as he laughed, and she began to giggle. “You’re a sex fiend!”

“I’m not … I assure you, normally I’m quite respectable. It’s all your fault!” he said as he devoured her neck and her arms and her breasts and her thighs and even more appealing places.

“My fault? What have I done?” But she was loving every minute of it, as they collapsed to the floor of the sitting room and he began to make love to her again.

“You’re far, far too appealing,” he said as he closed his eyes and entered her while they still had half their clothes on, and lay on the stateroom floor.

“So are you,” she muttered, and then gave a small cry, and it was a long time before they got up again and made it all the way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake.

They didn’t even bother to go to dinner that night, and when their room steward called them on the phone, offering dinner in their rooms, William declined, announcing mournfully that they were both seasick. He offered crackers and soup instead, but William insisted that they were both sleeping, and after he hung up, the little Frenchman grinned at the maid.