Much though Colin and I enjoyed seeing Ivy, it had become evident almost at once that escape was necessary. We longed to get away from everyone, to a place where our only pressing business would be to enjoy our honeymoon, and had planned a trip east to visit sites important to me because of my love of classical antiquities and literature. I wanted to see the ruins at Ephesus, and as student of Homer, craved a visit to Troy. Colin, proving himself husband extraordinaire from the first, did not need to be told any of this; he anticipated my every desire. And hence, we soon found ourselves speeding towards Constantinople on the Orient Express.

“I’m not sure your mother will ever forgive me all the way,” Colin said as he guided me through narrow, mahogany-paneled corridors to the train’s dining car. “I’d no idea how wild she and the queen had run with their wedding plans.”

“Well, we did give up our opportunity to be wed in the chapel at Windsor Palace.”

“Yes. With fireworks and our two thousand closest friends.”

I laughed. “I confess I never thought she had it in her to be so fierce with you.”

“Now that we’re married, she considers me a safe mark. No more worries that I’ll take my affections and my fortune elsewhere.”

“Excellent point. But I’d hoped that her desire to charm you into eventually accepting a title from the queen would keep her better in line.”

“She’s quite amusing,” he said.

“Spoken like a man who’s never lived with her.” A crisply uniformed steward pulled open a door for us, and we stepped into a dining room that, although small, was worthy of the best restaurants in Europe. Soft candles flickered with the gentle motion of the train, sending light undulating across crystal glasses, gold-rimmed porcelain, and damask tablecloths the color of bright moonlight, while the smell of perfectly roasted beef with a tangy claret sauce filled the air.