AT SIX O’CLOCK IN THE morning and with the world still dark Amelia, tired and ever so slightly cranky, climbed into the sleek black Bentley sent to take her to Sandringham. She considered texting Arthur to ask how many dates they had to go on before she would be able to stay overnight in the same building as him, instead of a taking a too-early drive like this. She rested her head against the window and drowsed for much of the drive from London all the way up to Norfolk. Or at least tried to. Days to prepare and fret had not lessened her nerves.
It was fully light by the time the car pulled through the gate, past a security checkpoint, and up a long, winding drive toward the house. There was a figure standing at the end of it, peering down the road at the car.
As they drew closer, she co
