As they were rowed across the Thames they were so locked in looking at each other she scarcely noticed the river traffic. She had a hundred questions for him, but they could not talk openly in front of the wherryman. Nor could they touch the way they longed to. She felt Owen’s hot impatience to be alone with her, and she could only tell him with her eyes: Soon, my love. She had made Matthew Buckland promise to assign him no more missions until absolutely necessary. A few weeks of peace and quiet would do her husband a world of good. Heaven knew he had earned it. “God bless her!” the wherryman blurted. “Look, that’s Her Majesty, yonder!” He nodded westward. They looked upriver. The magnificent royal barge was unmistakable even at this distance. The crimson silk banners rippled in the breeze and sunlight gleamed off the dazzling gilt prow and the dozen pairs of oars arcing and dipping. Kate thought it looked like some golden insect gliding over the water. Small craft swarmed around it, with wherry passengers and fishermen alike eager to see Her Majesty up close.
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