Wyatt despised cigarettes, so Sarah tried not to smoke in front of him. A physical fitness enthusiast, he said, "Mah body is mah temple." The d.u.c.h.ess said she'd like to start worshiping. Both laughed heartily.

The day after the dinner party, Oscar Wyatt proposed an aerial view of his 29,000-acre ranch near Corpus Christi; he flew Sarah in his private helicopter and allowed her to take over the controls. Steve marveled at her flying skill. "Did your husband teach you how to do that?" he asked.

"My husband doesn't have much time to teach me anything," she said.

"What a waste," said Wyatt. He was entranced with the Queen's daughter-in-law and let her know.

Sarah had given him her private phone number at the Palace and told him to call her when he returned to London. When he did, she immediately invited him over for drinks. He reciprocated with parties, restaurant dinners, and holidays. She visited him in his apartment in Cadogan Square. Weeks later she introduced him to her unsuspecting husband, and when Andrew returned to sea, she brought Wyatt into their Berkshire home. She invited him to their housewarming party, to their daughter's christening, and to dinner with her in-laws. She even gave him a place of honor next to the Queen.

Shortly after Andrew returned to his ship in January 1990, Sarah called him, saying she felt despondent. She asked how they could continue a marriage that was subjected to month-long separations. Andrew reminded her of what he had said before they married: he was a prince and a naval officer before he was a husband. He suggested she was feeling overwhelmed because of her pregnancy, but she insisted she wanted to escape from their marriage and the Palace courtiers. "I want to live in Argentina with my mother," she wailed. Their conversation was tape-recorded by a stranger, who had eavesdropped on his scanner, and sold the tape to a British newspaper.

Andrew rushed home for the March 23, 1990, birth of his second daughter and stayed six weeks. While he and the nanny took care of the new baby, Steve Wyatt flew Sarah and two-year-old Beatrice in a private plane to Morocco for a holiday. The next month Wyatt flew Sarah to the South of France, where his mother had rented a villa. Weeks later, in August 1990, he asked her to entertain Dr. Ramzi Salman, Iraq's oil minister, at Buckingham Palace. Sarah did not hesitate.

She invited her lover and his Iraqi business acquaintance to dinner in her second-floor suite at the Palace. Naively she did not consider the political ramifications of entertaining the representative of Saddam Hussein days after Iraq had invaded Kuwait. When Prince Philip found out what she had done, he sailed into her for poor judgment. For a member of the British royal family to publicly embrace Iraq when British soldiers might be going to war against the country was "unconscionable" and "just b.l.o.o.d.y stupid." Sarah blamed the courtiers. She said, "Someone should have told me."

After dinner that evening, she had taken her two guests to Le Gavroche, one of London's finest French restaurants, to join a small party hosted by Alistair McAlpine, former treasurer of the Tory Party. Lord and Lady McAlpine were friends of the Yorks and had dined at Sunninghill Park; they were fond of Sarah but were uncomfortable having to extend hospitality to Saddam Hussein's envoy. They were also disquieted by Sarah's blatant behavior with Steve Wyatt. "It was a display of mutual fondling I have never seen before in a three-star restaurant," said one of the McAlpines' guests.

"There is in the d.u.c.h.ess a free spirit," Alistair McAlpine wrote later, "an instinct she believes justifies whatever she may do, regardless of how ridiculous or unsuitable her actions are."

Surprisingly, Sarah, a master of what Punch Punch magazine called "sn.o.blesse oblige," did not comprehend the social liability of taking an American lover, especially one who sounded like Sammy Glick with a southern accent. It was a cultural clash of aristocrats versus armadillos on an island that defers to aristocrats. Despite his father's money, the Texan could not la.s.so a position within the British establishment. The social barriers were too high, even for an expert climber like Steve Wyatt. One American who had tried to scale the wall ended up living in exile-and she had married the King of England. "The att.i.tude of most British people," said Harold Brooks-Baker, "is that Americans are savages." magazine called "sn.o.blesse oblige," did not comprehend the social liability of taking an American lover, especially one who sounded like Sammy Glick with a southern accent. It was a cultural clash of aristocrats versus armadillos on an island that defers to aristocrats. Despite his father's money, the Texan could not la.s.so a position within the British establishment. The social barriers were too high, even for an expert climber like Steve Wyatt. One American who had tried to scale the wall ended up living in exile-and she had married the King of England. "The att.i.tude of most British people," said Harold Brooks-Baker, "is that Americans are savages."

By 1990 everyone knew that Sarah's marriage was over, except her husband. Her lover, who continued sleeping with other women, still reveled in her royal invitations. "For the Jewish boy from Houston, whose parentage was shrouded in scandal," wrote the Daily Mail, Daily Mail, "there could have been no greater social triumph than his invitation from the d.u.c.h.ess of York personally to the December 1990 Buckingham Palace Ball to celebrate the birthdays of the Queen Mother (90), Princess Margaret (60), Princess Anne (40) and the Duke of York (30)." "there could have been no greater social triumph than his invitation from the d.u.c.h.ess of York personally to the December 1990 Buckingham Palace Ball to celebrate the birthdays of the Queen Mother (90), Princess Margaret (60), Princess Anne (40) and the Duke of York (30)."

Soon he had no more royal invitations. Through her equerries the Queen communicated her displeasure about the relationship and forced the d.u.c.h.ess to stop seeing the high-flying Texan. "There'll be nipples on a bull 'fore I'll embarra.s.s that little lady," Oscar Wyatt told a business a.s.sociate. Rather than offend Her Majesty, he cooperated with the Palace by having his son transferred to the United States. "It's very embarra.s.sing," Lynn Wyatt told a gossip columnist. "Prince Andrew even called Steve to tell him how sorry he was about it all."

During the move from his apartment in Cadogan Square, Steve Wyatt left behind 120 photographs from his May 1990 holiday in Morocco with Sarah and her two children. A mover found the casual snapshots, recognized the d.u.c.h.ess of York, and sold the photos to a tabloid. Sarah was traveling to Palm Beach with her father and his mistress when she received the call from her husband prior to publication.

Andrew was aboard his ship when the Palace contacted him about the pictures. The Queen's press secretary suggested that the Duke tell his wife. So Andrew dutifully called Sarah, who took the call in the Palm Beach airport. She screamed at him for not defending her.

"It's not like you didn't know about those pictures," she said. "You saw them. You knew about the holiday. You wanted me to go. Why didn't you say that? Why do you never defend me to those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds?" She slammed the phone down and that night got drunk. Very drunk.

She admitted overindulging when she addressed the Motor Neurone Disease a.s.sociation the next day. "I had too many mai tais last night," she told the group. She brightened up during her visit to the Connor Nursery in West Palm Beach, where she posed for pictures with black children suffering from AIDS. That evening she attended a dinner party at the restricted Everglades Club in Palm Beach and the next day was severely criticized in newspapers for lending royal presence, even unintentionally, to a club that bars blacks and Jews.*

On her return flight to London, she started drinking again. After two gla.s.ses of Champagne she began throwing sugar packets at her father. She lobbed wet towels at his mistress and tossed peanuts around the cabin. "Then Sarah pulled a sick bag over her head," recalled the Major's mistress, "and started making telephone noises into it. We shrieked with laughter like silly schoolgirls." Other pa.s.sengers watched the rumpus. Among them, three journalists taking notes.

"The way that story was embroidered," huffed Major Ferguson, "convinced me more than anything else that the press was out to discredit my daughter."

Two months later, on March 19, 1992, the Palace announced that the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of York were separating. The Queen's press secretary, Charles Anson, privately briefed the BBC correspondent, who reported, "The knives are out at the palace for Fergie." The BBC man said the Queen was very upset with the d.u.c.h.ess, and the rest of the royal family considered her unsuitable to be among them. 1992, the Palace announced that the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of York were separating. The Queen's press secretary, Charles Anson, privately briefed the BBC correspondent, who reported, "The knives are out at the palace for Fergie." The BBC man said the Queen was very upset with the d.u.c.h.ess, and the rest of the royal family considered her unsuitable to be among them.

"I was furious," recalled her father, "and rang Sir Robert Fellowes, and told him how monstrous I thought it was... it was unforgivable."

The courtier responded coolly. "It's my job," he said, "to protect the family, and particularly the Queen. I have to."

"You don't have to go that far," said Ferguson.

Eventually the press secretary apologized to Sarah for his indiscretion and offered his resignation to the Queen, who did not accept it.* Rather, four years later, she knighted him. Rather, four years later, she knighted him.

"Vulgar, vulgar, vulgar." That's the word Lord Charteris used-in triplicate-to d.a.m.n the d.u.c.h.ess. Charteris, the Queen's former private secretary, denounced Sarah in a Spectator Spectator interview with journalist Noreen Taylor. And a columnist for interview with journalist Noreen Taylor. And a columnist for The Mail on Sunday, The Mail on Sunday, John Junor, condemned the d.u.c.h.ess as "highly immoral." He ran her down as the "royal bike"-ridden by everyone. John Junor, condemned the d.u.c.h.ess as "highly immoral." He ran her down as the "royal bike"-ridden by everyone.

By this time she was thoroughly disgraced as a wife and as a mother. But even more disheartening for her was the news that the man she called the love of her life, Steve Wyatt, was leaving her life for another wife: he was marrying an American society beauty, Cate Magennis. When he told Sarah the news, she struggled to wish him well. But she admitted later that she almost cried. After the wedding she said, "I can't have the man I love because he's got married. What's the matter with me? Why wouldn't he marry me?"

In Wyatt's wake, another smooth-talking Texan was already circling in the waters. "If you want to ride swiftly and safely from the depths to the surface," Truman Capote wrote in a novella, "the surest way is to single out a shark and attach yourself to it like a pilot fish."

For the next three years it would be difficult to distinguish between the shark and the pilot fish, but the d.u.c.h.ess was about to embark on the ride of her life.

EIGHTEEN.

He's absolutely brill about money," burbled the d.u.c.h.ess of York. "Really, really brill."

In her slangy way, Sarah was describing John Bryan to her husband as brilliant. She recommended they sit down with the thirty-five-year-old American to discuss their finances. "He can help," she said. "I just know he can."

By 1991 the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess were spending four times their annual income, and the Queen was balking at paying their overdrafts. Sarah, who spent wildly, refused to cut back. The worse her marriage became, the more money she spent, running up staggering bills. Her kitchen staples included caviar, raspberries (in season and out), a variety of imported cheeses, and at least thirteen flavors of ice cream. In one year she spent $102,000 for gifts and $84,560 on psychics. Then Steve Wyatt introduced her to his friend Anthony John Adrian Bryan Jr., known to his family and friends as "Johnny." He promised to come to her financial rescue. "Johnny stepped in," said columnist Taki, "and took over the Fergie account-so to speak."

A self-described financial wizard, John Bryan understood the art of making deals. He knew the intricacies of Swiss bank accounts and offsh.o.r.e tax shelters. He unraveled the mysteries of high finance and reduced complex transactions to simple logic. He rea.s.sured people like Sarah and Andrew, who did not know how to manage their money. After Bryan explained the tax advantages of incorporating Sarah's publishing ventures and funneling her Budgie Budgie profits through a corporation, Andrew and Sarah eagerly incorporated. Bryan helped set up ASB [Andrew Sarah Bryan] Publishing Inc. and, at Andrew and Sarah's insistence, became a member of the board. profits through a corporation, Andrew and Sarah eagerly incorporated. Bryan helped set up ASB [Andrew Sarah Bryan] Publishing Inc. and, at Andrew and Sarah's insistence, became a member of the board.

Susceptible to gurus, astrologers, and fortune-tellers, the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess were drawn to the fast-talking American. Their goals were his goals: to make money-big money-or, as he put it, "megamillions."

During their first meeting, recalled a secretary who was in the room, Bryan endeared himself to the Duke of York by offering to restore the d.u.c.h.ess's image in the press. "Most everything written about her is rubbish," Bryan told them. Andrew nodded in agreement. Despite their marital problems, he remained devoted and wanted the rest of the world to see his wife as he did.

"Sir," Bryan said respectfully, "I want to show Her Royal Highness's commitment to charity and emphasize the good work she does which enhances the royal family." Sarah beamed as Bryan pitched his fastball without a pop. He spoke with quiet authority. As he later told one writer, he operated on the principle of "softly, softly... catchee monkey." Within fifteen minutes of their meeting, the organ-grinder had softly snared the Duke of York.

Andrew and Sarah sat spellbound as the American spun their debts into a.s.sets. He made their financial future look glowing. The bald sorcerer sounded as though he could sell toupees to Rastafarians. He was a fast talker who made gypsy moths look like b.u.t.terflies.

"He was clever, and he certainly knew business," said a British man who had known Bryan since he had moved to London. "But he was as ambitious as the Gordon Gecko character in [the movie] Wall Street. Wall Street. Johnny was hard charging, high energy; he lived on the edge. As you Americans say, he performed without a net." Johnny was hard charging, high energy; he lived on the edge. As you Americans say, he performed without a net."

John Bryan executed his high-wire act with style. He understood packaging and the importance of the first impression. He looked rich. He wore custom-made suits, hand-tooled leather shoes, and gold cuff links. He skied, golfed, and played squash in private clubs. He competed fiercely on the tennis court. He dated models and debutantes.

But there was little behind his fancy facade. He possessed none of the hallmarks of wealth-no property, no portfolio. He spent most of everything he earned-and more. When his businesses in New York City, London, and Munich ran out of money, and he became insolvent, he left town.

He did it first in New York City. Following graduation from the University of Texas in 1979, he received a master's degree in business administration from the University of Pittsburgh. He moved to Manhattan and started a small communications company with $1 million that he had raised from private investors. He promised them big profits, but after four years the company went broke.

"I lost over $50,000 on the guy," said Taki. "I based my investment on my friendship... and I have to say I'm deeply disappointed. He said it was a sure thing, we couldn't miss, and that my $50,000 would turn into millions. After the company failed, he went doggo for a while, and then turned up [in London] with Fergie."

The British Home Office wouldn't give him a work permit because it wasn't convinced he could support himself. His London apartment, which doubled as his office, was rented. So was his furniture. He also rented a country house in Gloucestershire. "That's where I met him," recalled journalist Rory Knight Bruce. "He was dressed in American tweeds and smoking a joint."

His leased car acc.u.mulated so many parking tickets that he was arrested and fined $800. After paying the fine, he continued collecting parking tickets. Finally police booted and towed the car, and he was reduced to taking cabs. He hired an occasional limousine that he charged to his business-before the business collapsed. He rarely paid cash for anything, except occasional cocaine.* "Fergie sniffed a lot, too," said Taki, who socialized with the couple. "I should know. I've done my share." "Fergie sniffed a lot, too," said Taki, who socialized with the couple. "I should know. I've done my share."

Although Bryan was described as a Texas multimillionaire, he was born in Wilmington, Delaware. But at the age of nine he moved to Houston when his father divorced his mother and married a Texas heiress, Josephine Abercrombie. During this second marriage, his father began an affair with (and later married) Pamela Zauderer Sakowitz, the wife of the Sakowitz department store heir Robert Sakowitz-who was Steve Wyatt's uncle.

Bryan bragged to one writer that he was part of "the American establishment" because his G.o.dfather was Felix DuPont, and his mother, who had married three times, was listed in the Social Register. Social Register. He boasted to girlfriends that his mother had once dated Frank Sinatra and that his British-born father had graduated from the Harvard Business School. He boasted to girlfriends that his mother had once dated Frank Sinatra and that his British-born father had graduated from the Harvard Business School.

"It is perhaps no coincidence," said Pamela Zauderer Sakowitz after her divorce from Bryan Sr., "that Johnny's father seemed to single out wealthy, influential, and sometimes married women for conquests, me included." Although his father had married four times and very well, he had never married a d.u.c.h.ess.

Skimming the surface of London society, John Bryan partied in expense-account restaurants and nightclubs like Annabel's and Tramps. When he became the Yorks' financial adviser, he moved into more rarefied circles. Still, the exclusive world of White's and Brooks's (private men's clubs in London) eluded him. To British aristocrats he looked like an American hustler on the make. To the d.u.c.h.ess of York he looked like a man on a white horse.

He had promised to make her rich and restore her image. He revered her t.i.tle as much as she did and commended her for correcting Maria Shriver on camera when the NBC-TV interviewer addressed her as Sarah Ferguson. "I'm Her Royal Highness," Sarah pointed out. "I'm the d.u.c.h.ess of York." Bryan emphasized to her the value of her t.i.tle in the marketplace. "Your image is all you have," he said over and over. "It is absolutely one hundred percent your biggest a.s.set."

Capitalizing on Fergie, he made her his biggest merger and acquisition. Within days of her separation from Andrew, Bryan took over her life. "When Sarah moved from Sunninghill Park to a rented house, Romenda Lodge in Wentworth, John a.s.sisted with details like staff contracts, rental negotiations, security, confidentiality agreements," recalled her father, Major Ferguson.

After the move, Sarah said she would have a nervous breakdown if she didn't have a vacation. So "J.B.," as she and her children called him, arranged an extravagant six-week trip to the Far East. He planned the itinerary, complete with chartered flights, limousines, and luxury hotels. He said he paid for everything: $135,000. He joined the d.u.c.h.ess, her two children, their nanny, and their protection officers in p.h.u.ket, a resort island near Thailand, and traveled with them through Indonesia.

He was photographed traveling with the d.u.c.h.ess and described in the press as the unknown man who was seen carrying Princess Eugenie on his shoulders. He later explained that he was a family friend acting as a marriage counselor for the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess, trying to help them reconcile. He also said he had been asked by the Queen and Prince Andrew to handle Sarah's finances. "It's completely absurd to suggest that there is anything unprofessional in my friendship with the d.u.c.h.ess," he said. "I am acting in a purely professional manner."

Weeks later he and Sarah visited her mother on her polo pony breeding farm four hundred miles west of Buenos Aires. Sarah wanted Bryan to advise Susan Barrantes on handling her husband's estate. Bryan told Susan he could make* her "megamillions" if she wanted to make a film about playing polo in Argentina. her "megamillions" if she wanted to make a film about playing polo in Argentina.

Throughout the summer of 1992 he and Sarah were seen shopping in New York City, partying in London, and dancing in Paris. Still, he insisted their relationship was strictly platonic. When Clive Goodman of News of the World News of the World asked him about a romance, Bryan snapped, "Even such a suggestion is not just rude, it's impertinent and insulting." By then he had moved his clothes into her closet at Romenda Lodge and put his slippers under her bed. asked him about a romance, Bryan snapped, "Even such a suggestion is not just rude, it's impertinent and insulting." By then he had moved his clothes into her closet at Romenda Lodge and put his slippers under her bed.

With military precision he began organizing her finances. A big spender himself, he said he was startled by her spending, which he calculated at $81,000 a month. He told her she was spending almost $1 million a year-far more than she was making. She shrugged. She was still the daughter-in-law of the richest woman in the world. "It was madness," he said later, "spending for the sake of it, with no thought for the present, let alone the future." At the time, he joked about setting up a charity called d.u.c.h.ess in Distress.

The financial adviser was captivated by his investment. When the writer Elizabeth Kaye compared him to Cinderella, John Bryan did not disagree. "I am like Cinderella," he said. "It's a kind of wonderful love story." He fully expected to marry the d.u.c.h.ess after her divorce, but his friend Taki was skeptical. "It'll never happen," Taki predicted. "He doesn't have enough money for Fergie."

Making himself indispensable, Bryan supervised her investments, her vacations, her wardrobe, even her diet. "It's very important to Johnny that Sarah look good and continue to keep her weight down," said his mother. Nothing escaped his attention. He even arranged her furniture. He called reporters regularly to tell them about her efforts for the Motor Neurone Disease a.s.sociation. He said proudly that she generated 25 percent of the charity's income.

The grateful d.u.c.h.ess rewarded him with lavish gifts: a $1,500 Louis Vuitton trunk embossed with his initials; a Tag Heuer watch; Turnbull & a.s.ser shirts with an oversize pocket for his mobile phone; a coffee machine from Harrods; silk burgundy boxer shorts; a trip to Paris; and a $20,000 birthday party under a canopy with a jukebox playing his favorite songs.

For her thirty-third birthday he reciprocated with $1,000 worth of lingerie, including a $330 teddy and a $22 garter belt.

"They tried to top each other with extravagance," said a friend, who decided that John Bryan won with his trip to Saint-Tropez in the summer of 1992. "At least in terms of radioactive publicity." He was alluding to the fallout from photographs that were secretly taken through the far-seeing lens of a long-range camera as the d.u.c.h.ess and her lover cavorted by a pool. She was without the top of her red-and-yellow-flowered bikini, and the pictures from that topless romp on France's Cote d'Azur produced a mouthwatering scandal.

Sarah was captured on film as she lolled on a chaise alongside Bryan, whose bald head gleamed in the sun. The camera caught him lifting her foot to kiss her instep. Click. He ma.s.saged her leg, nuzzled her shoulder, and rubbed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Click. Click. She slathered suntan oil on his bald head. He climbed out of his chaise and lay on top of her. Click. Click. Click. She put her arms around him and kissed him on the lips. Click. Click. They shared a cigarette. Playing alongside them were Sarah's two children; next to the children were their two royal protection officers, sunbathing. They later lost their jobs.

The embarra.s.sing photos were published when Sarah was vacationing with the royal family at Balmoral Castle in Scotland. She had arrived with her estranged husband and their children for a week. On the morning of Thursday, August 20, 1992, the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess appeared for breakfast while the children remained in the nursery. Sarah and Andrew had been warned that the photos were to be published, but they had not seen them. So they were unprepared for the shock: the front page of the Daily Mirror Daily Mirror featured John Bryan in swimming trunks lying on top of Sarah, who was bare-breasted. "Fergie's Stolen Kisses," blared the headline. The featured John Bryan in swimming trunks lying on top of Sarah, who was bare-breasted. "Fergie's Stolen Kisses," blared the headline. The Evening Standard Evening Standard ran the photos under the banner "d.u.c.h.ess in Disgrace." ran the photos under the banner "d.u.c.h.ess in Disgrace."

When Sarah saw the newspapers on the table, she went white. "I almost heaved," she recalled. Within seconds the Duke of Edinburgh was standing at her side. Months before, he had dressed her down for attending Elton John's fortieth birthday party when newspapers said the singer was involved in a s.e.x scandal. He criticized her for lending her royal presence to someone who was the subject of lurid headlines. She felt vindicated when the rock star collected a $1.8 million out-of-court settlement from the Sun Sun for falsely accusing him of using the services of a male prost.i.tute. But by then Philip had moved on to blame her for embarra.s.sing the royal family by going on a ski holiday during the Gulf War. So now Sarah braced herself for another blast. for falsely accusing him of using the services of a male prost.i.tute. But by then Philip had moved on to blame her for embarra.s.sing the royal family by going on a ski holiday during the Gulf War. So now Sarah braced herself for another blast.

But Philip, who was known to be a womanizer, looked at her with sympathy. "Look," he said softly, "you may like to know that there but for the grace of G.o.d go I." He straightened his shoulders and announced loudly that he intended to go grouse hunting with Charles and Andrew. Abruptly he turned and strode out of the room.

Sarah stayed at Balmoral for three more days until Sir Robert Fellowes pointedly suggested she "might feel more comfortable taking the children home." The suggestion carried the weight of an edict. Feeling the royal boot, she decamped.

Since her separation, she had been prohibited from representing the royal family in public. She had shrugged off her exclusion from events like Ascot and Trooping the Color by saying, "What the h.e.l.l? I'll save on hats." But she stopped laughing when she found herself locked out of her office at Buckingham Palace. She blamed the courtiers, whom she called "the Queen's Rottweilers."

To her chagrin, newspapers around the world gave full play to her topless antics. "Monarchy in the Mud," blared Italy's La Stampa. La Stampa. The ma.s.s circulation The ma.s.s circulation Bild Bild in Germany screamed, "Fergie Naked During Love Play." The in Germany screamed, "Fergie Naked During Love Play." The New York Daily News New York Daily News ran the photo of John ("I was ran the photo of John ("I was not not sucking her toes, I was kissing the arch of her foot") Bryan under the headline "Toe Sucker and d.u.c.h.ess of Vulgarity." sucking her toes, I was kissing the arch of her foot") Bryan under the headline "Toe Sucker and d.u.c.h.ess of Vulgarity." USA Today USA Today: "The Lens Doesn't Lie."

The editor of The Washington Post The Washington Post editorial page observed: "If your average American welfare mother had been photographed as she was, bare-breasted and fooling around with her lover in the presence of her toddler children, it probably would have been enough to get their caseworker a court order removing the kids from the home. We would have used words like 'disadvantaged' and 'sick.' " editorial page observed: "If your average American welfare mother had been photographed as she was, bare-breasted and fooling around with her lover in the presence of her toddler children, it probably would have been enough to get their caseworker a court order removing the kids from the home. We would have used words like 'disadvantaged' and 'sick.' "

But the d.u.c.h.ess's mother defended her-sort of. "Sarah is not sorry because she was caught topless with Bryan," Susan Barrantes told the Italian magazine Gente. Gente. "Being separated from Prince Andrew, she can do what she likes. But she is sad because she is sure... somebody... wanted to get at her and put her character in a bad light before the divorce." "Being separated from Prince Andrew, she can do what she likes. But she is sad because she is sure... somebody... wanted to get at her and put her character in a bad light before the divorce."

John Bryan, who had tried but failed to get an injunction against publication of the photos, spun into action. "We'll turn this around," he promised Sarah. "You'll see. We'll turn this f.u.c.ker around.... I'm going to have those Palace b.a.s.t.a.r.ds by the b.a.l.l.s." He filed a $5 million invasion of privacy lawsuit in France against the photographer, who had dug a trench on private property and camped out for two days with his cameras' high-powered lenses. Bryan also sued Paris-Match, Paris-Match, saying the French magazine had intended to damage the d.u.c.h.ess. "From being an admired figure," his lawsuit stated, "she has become a figure of ridicule." A French judge agreed and awarded her $94,000, which she announced would go to the British Inst.i.tute for Brain-Damaged Children. "It's appropriate, don't you think?" she said. "Most journalists are brain-damaged, too." saying the French magazine had intended to damage the d.u.c.h.ess. "From being an admired figure," his lawsuit stated, "she has become a figure of ridicule." A French judge agreed and awarded her $94,000, which she announced would go to the British Inst.i.tute for Brain-Damaged Children. "It's appropriate, don't you think?" she said. "Most journalists are brain-damaged, too."

Still, she knew she looked foolish in the world's press. "I've been criticized so much over the past seven years that I've lost all my confidence and self-esteem," she said. She cried over the photo caption: "Fergie-The Final Footnote." And she cringed when she saw sidewalk vendors in London selling chocolate toes. "It's h.e.l.l," she told her father. "I can't bear reading newspapers." One English reporter wrote that since she had become the d.u.c.h.ess of York, "covering the royal family is like riding down a sewer in a gla.s.s bottom boat." Some writers dredged history to draw mischievous parallels between Fergie and the fat, gaudy Caroline of Brunswick, who married the Prince of Wales in 1795. The English critic Max Beerbohm said of that promiscuous* Princess, "Fate wrote her a most tremendous tragedy and she played it in tights." Princess, "Fate wrote her a most tremendous tragedy and she played it in tights."

Sarah was not so carefree about her burlesque. She hid in her house for five days so she would not have to face people. One woman took pity and wrote a letter offering a "shoulder of friendship" to cry on.

"I simply felt, 'Poor thing!' " said Theo Ellert, who ran Angels International. The London-based charity raised money for children in Poland with leukemia. "The d.u.c.h.ess was at her lowest ebb, and when I suggested she come with me to Poland, she agreed instantly and said, 'I need to think of others to take my mind off myself.' "

John Bryan seized on the trip as an opportunity to repair her image. He was determined to showcase her as the do-gooding d.u.c.h.ess. "If we had to, we'd pay for the trip ourselves, so no one could accuse us of another Freeloading Fergie number," he said to her secretary. "Forget the British press. We'll get this on American television where it counts.... We'll give exclusive access to someone like Diane Sawyer on Prime Time Live Prime Time Live... she's the best... she needs the ratings... but no personal questions... only a serious interview, substantive, about your work...."

With frenetic energy he started negotiating behind the scenes. "He used a husband-and-wife team to front for him," recalled the ABC-TV producer for Prime Time Live, Prime Time Live, "but he was definitely calling the shots." Bryan told Sarah he would control the interview and the questions she would be asked. Diane Sawyer does not share that recollection. Sawyer's producer recalled Sarah's major concern was being asked about her relationship with the Princess of Wales and the rest of the royal family. "That worried her more than the toe-sucking pictures," said the producer. At the end of the interview, Diane Sawyer slipped in a question about John Bryan. "What is the relationship? What can you tell us about him?" "but he was definitely calling the shots." Bryan told Sarah he would control the interview and the questions she would be asked. Diane Sawyer does not share that recollection. Sawyer's producer recalled Sarah's major concern was being asked about her relationship with the Princess of Wales and the rest of the royal family. "That worried her more than the toe-sucking pictures," said the producer. At the end of the interview, Diane Sawyer slipped in a question about John Bryan. "What is the relationship? What can you tell us about him?"

Sarah was prepared. "He's done a wonderful job, helping me with all my financial work," she said on the air, "and he's been a fantastic friend."

"But he's not just a financial adviser," pressed Sawyer.

"I didn't say he was. I said he's been a fantastic friend, helping me with financial work."

Despite her plucky performance, Angels International dropped her. "She had a bad image and they didn't want her involved with them," said Theo Ellert. "I said, 'If you don't want her, you can't have me,' and my services were dispensed with." So Theo Ellert helped Sarah start her own charity, Children in Crisis, to raise money for youngsters in poor countries like Albania, Poland, and the former Yugoslavia. With this organization the d.u.c.h.ess finally had a vehicle for respectability. But she couldn't follow the road map. "Sarah has had everything," her father wrote in his memoir, "but she threw it away."

She tried to transform herself into a goodwill amba.s.sador like the Princess of Wales but was criticized as self-serving. "I cannot think of anybody else I would sooner not appoint to this post [United Nations High Commission for Refugees]," said the Tory MP Sir Nicholas Fairbairn. "She is a lady short on looks, absolutely deprived of any dress sense, has a figure like a Jura.s.sic monster, is very greedy when it comes to loot, no tact, and wants to upstage everyone else." Fergie was not appointed.

The Royal Army Air Corps would not accept her as its honorary Colonel in Chief because, according to a senior officer, she was "dowdy and we didn't feel she had the right image."

When she took a group of mentally handicapped youngsters on a climbing expedition in Nepal, she was derided for checking into a suite at Katmandu's most luxurious hotel. During the trek, she toted only her bottle of Evian water, prompting the Spectator Spectator to snicker: to snicker: The grand old d.u.c.h.ess of York The grand old d.u.c.h.ess of YorkShe had ten thousand men,She marched them up to the top of the hillAnd she marched them down again.

When a twenty-two-year-old Sherpa accepted her invitation to leave his remote Himalayan village and return to Britain with her, she was accused of exploitation. "Perhaps the wayward d.u.c.h.ess is simply keeping up the honourable aristocratic tradition of hiring a native and bringing him home," sniffed the Daily Telegraph. Daily Telegraph. The Sherpa, who had cooked her meals and carried her rucksack when she went mountain climbing, found himself doing much the same thing at Romenda Lodge. One woman said, "She was using him like a dogsbody, and he wasn't being paid." The Sherpa, who had cooked her meals and carried her rucksack when she went mountain climbing, found himself doing much the same thing at Romenda Lodge. One woman said, "She was using him like a dogsbody, and he wasn't being paid."

"He is a guest of the d.u.c.h.ess," said her spokeswoman. "She thought it would be nice for him to see another part of the world."

Sarah, who was convinced that the Palace courtiers would use anything to hurt her chances for a hefty divorce settlement,* sent her Sherpa packing. Bryan tried to allay her fears, vowing again to negotiate "megamillions" for her. Eager to create a sympathetic climate, he tried to discredit her husband. sent her Sherpa packing. Bryan tried to allay her fears, vowing again to negotiate "megamillions" for her. Eager to create a sympathetic climate, he tried to discredit her husband.

He called The People The People newspaper, a British version of newspaper, a British version of USA Today, USA Today, and said Prince Andrew was having an affair. "I know 100 percent he is going out with the girl, and I know she has spent the night a lot at South York," said Bryan. "I will produce a name. But I want $30,000 because I'm going to have to go through his personal address book... and I want it on G.o.dd.a.m.n publication, baby. I want immediate payment." and said Prince Andrew was having an affair. "I know 100 percent he is going out with the girl, and I know she has spent the night a lot at South York," said Bryan. "I will produce a name. But I want $30,000 because I'm going to have to go through his personal address book... and I want it on G.o.dd.a.m.n publication, baby. I want immediate payment."

The paper drew up a contract, and Bryan amended it three or four times. When he finally produced the name of Andrew's alleged lover, the paper decided there was nothing to his story and didn't publish it. Instead they printed their tape-recorded conversation with him: "Jetset John Demanded 20,000 for Andrew Lie."

Barely embarra.s.sed, Bryan a.s.serted it was just a practical joke. He said he was setting up the newspaper. But Sarah was livid. "She screamed at me, 'You do not do that sort of thing to the Duke of York-it's totally irresponsible,' " Bryan confided to a friend as he recounted his regular rows with the d.u.c.h.ess. On that occasion she threw him out of the house. But days later they made up, and he moved back in. As a welcome home present, she gave him a silver globe of the world, inscribed "Together We Can Conquer It."

After the damaging photographs of their cozy romp on the Cote d'Azur had been published, the couple decided to be discreet. In the belief that they could conceal their affair, they no longer appeared in public together. When Bryan traveled from London to Sarah's house in Surrey, she sent a member of her staff to meet him at the train station. Disguised in a baseball cap and sungla.s.ses, he hid in the trunk of her car and was smuggled into Romenda Lodge like stolen goods. Publicly Sarah professed to be confused about divorcing Andrew. She said she considered him to be "my very best friend." But privately she complained about him. "I think she felt she could never go to bed with him again," said Theo Ellert, "that their s.e.x life had not been good from the beginning and couldn't be saved now." Mrs. Ellert made her comments after she and the d.u.c.h.ess had parted bitterly; she said Fergie had not supported her as chief executive of their charity. "I think she believed that I was deflecting the glory from herself."

Seeking guidance from everyone around her, Sarah consulted her circle of psychics, astrologers, and fortune-tellers. She called New Age mystics in Los Angeles, mediums in New York City, and channelers in London. She also consulted a Bosnian priest who was known at the shrine of Medjugorje as "the Eyes of Christ."

"Go back to your husband," Father Svetozar Kraljevic counseled her. "The best thing for you, for your soul, for your children, and for the royal family is for reconciliation."

"I can't," moaned Sarah. "If I did, I would have to lead the life of a nun."

The monk recommended she spend time with some nuns in a convent in Bosnia. "They will teach you how to lead a celibate life," he said.

Dismissing his stern advice, she turned to her friend Alistair McAlpine, who wrote about their private lunch: "She has often asked advice, thanked the giver profusely, but gone the way she wished in the first place. Perhaps she feels that those who give her advice will go away satisfied with just the honor of having had her ask. How terribly she misunderstands human nature."

Sarah told Lord McAlpine that she wanted to divorce her husband. "He is so boring," she said. "He only wants to play golf and watch science-fiction videos."

Lord McAlpine advised her against divorce. "It was at this point she informed me the Princess of Wales had had it in mind to leave her husband on the same day but had decided to postpone that event for a month or two, in the d.u.c.h.ess's words, 'to see how I get on.' "

While Diana stayed on the bus, Sarah decided to hop off. But she said she was nervous about public reaction and the way she would be treated by the royal family. McAlpine explained, "She meant, of course, financially."

Like a squirrel scampering to find nuts, John Bryan scurried in all directions trying to generate money for Sarah. He was never off the phone. Bombarding the media with proposals, he hawked her to the highest bidder: $25,000 for exclusive photo shoots, $50,000 to $200,000 for exclusive interviews. He dictated the rules to journalists: he provided the questions and demanded editorial control of the answers. When he negotiated a cover story with Harpers & Queen Harpers & Queen magazine, he insisted on their best fashion photographer, then demanded copyright to the photographs. "Do you know how many pictures she uses in a year?" he argued. "We send out a thousand, maybe two thousand pictures sometimes. She needs pictures for charity brochures, programs, book jackets, Christmas cards... She wants free and unenc.u.mbered use of the pictures for private purposes, to exploit them any way she wants to." magazine, he insisted on their best fashion photographer, then demanded copyright to the photographs. "Do you know how many pictures she uses in a year?" he argued. "We send out a thousand, maybe two thousand pictures sometimes. She needs pictures for charity brochures, programs, book jackets, Christmas cards... She wants free and unenc.u.mbered use of the pictures for private purposes, to exploit them any way she wants to."

In his demands the deal maker became as noisy and disruptive as a high-speed water bike roaring up the Thames. "Mr. Bryan had everyone curtsying and making tea," recalled one frazzled editorial a.s.sistant. "He was remarkably quick to shout, 'Ma'am, if you please,' if one of us forgot for a moment to grovel to Her Royal Highness."