Thank you, above all, to Queen Elizabeth II, for being a constant source of inspiration, both literary and otherwise.
My parents, Marie and Ray, for the precious gifts of a love of detective fiction and a lifetime of anecdotes about the British Royal Family.
My fabulous agent, Charlie Campbell, sine qua non. Alongside Charlie, I’m eternally grateful to Gráinne Fox and the team at Fletcher & Company as well as Nicki Kennedy, Sam Edenborough, and the rest of the team at ILA. I write this four months after we first encountered each other, as the copyedits for the UK and US editions are being finalized. How far we’ve come together in that time.
My editors, Ben Willis in the UK and David Highfill in the US, and the teams at Zaffre Books and at William Morrow, who have been a delight to work with from the moment we first spoke. That happened as lockdown started, so we haven’t met yet, but I can’t wait until we do.
For their friendship and generous insights: Alice Young, Lucy Van Hove, Annie Maw, Michael Hallowes, Fran Lana, Abimbola Fashola, and those who prefer to remain anonymous.
Mark and Belinda Tredwell, and Otis, who hosted me on the writing retreat when I was supposed to be writing another book but got a little obsessed with the idea for this one.
The Place, the Sisterhood, the Masterminds, and all my students and fellow writers. You know who you are. A huge thank-you to Annie Eaton, who shares a love of art, history, fashion, and books, and knows some great agents.
The National Health Service, which kept Alex and me alive last year. An eternal thank-you.
The Book Club, with a special mention to Poppy St. John, whose early enthusiasm kept me going when this story was still an idea and a few paragraphs that didn’t work.
Emily, Sophie, Freddie, and Tom, who put up with benign neglect when I was in the writing shed. And to Alex, my first reader, love of my life, the man who told me the first version wasn’t good enough . . . but the second one was.