Majesty (American Royals, #2)(103)

“Of course you do. You did it with me,” Beatrice said gently.

Sam had always thought of herself as the black sheep of her family. The one who took a perverse delight in breaking the rules, just to prove how pointless the rules were in the first place.

Was it possible that all her rebellious energy could actually be useful?

“I’ll do it,” she said hoarsely, excitement blossoming in her chest—though it was edged in regret, when she thought of Marshall.

Seeing Sam’s expression, Beatrice stepped forward. The great volume of her gown moved with her, its hem hissing smoothly over the floor. “Is something wrong?”

“Marshall. We…got in a fight before the wedding.”

Beatrice put her hands on her sister’s back, giving her a gentle push. “Well then, what are you waiting for? He’s probably still here.”



* * *





Sam rushed through the sea of people flooding the halls. Now that Robert had confirmed the wedding wasn’t taking place—at least, not today—the guests seemed eager to get outside, as if they still didn’t quite trust that the palace was safe. When Sam didn’t see Marshall in the crowds, she stumbled out onto the front portico.

And there he was, about to step into one of the palace’s courtesy cars.

“Marshall!” She hurried forward, still wearing her narrow-cut ivory dress. “I need to talk to you!”

His head darted up at the sound of her voice. “Sam, no.”

There was only one thing for her to do.

Sam ran around the front of the car to the driver’s side. She hoped she wasn’t visible to the flocks of people gathered outside the palace gates, murmuring confusedly about the wedding.

“Get out,” she commanded the chauffeur.

“Your Royal Highness, I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Sam drew herself up taller, adopting the imperious, queenly tone she’d heard Beatrice use. “That was a direct order.”

Startled into submission, the driver stepped out of the car. The keys were in the ignition, the motor already rumbling.

Sam looked up in time to see Caleb hurtling down the front steps of the palace in pursuit. “Sorry,” she called out, before getting in the car and throwing her foot on the accelerator.

“Sam!” Marshall shouted from the backseat. “What are you doing?”

She tore down the front drive, reaching to frantically adjust the mirrors. Marshall tried to throw his door open, but Sam had enabled the child lock.

“Buckle your seat belt,” she informed him. “We’re going for a drive.”

Technically Sam didn’t have a license; she’d never passed the parallel parking section of the driver’s test. She was only allowed to drive her Jeep—which she’d lovingly named Albert—on the country roads near Sulgrave, and only if her car was at the center of a formation, with a black security vehicle in front and another behind.

Driving in the capital, without her Guard, was definitely illegal. But it was too late to worry about that.

Sam whipped around another corner. Metro stops and colored pennants passed by in a blur. She wasn’t really sure where she was going except that she wanted to get as far from the palace as possible.

“Sam, you have to pull over!”

“I just wanted to talk,” she said reasonably, as if it were totally normal for her to commandeer one of the palace vehicles.

Marshall let out a huff of protest. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Good, because you’re not the one who’s going to do the talking. You’re going to listen.” Sam’s hands tightened over the wheel as she blasted through a yellow light. The windows were tinted, so no one could look through and realize that the wild driver speeding down Cumberland Street was next in line to the throne.

“Look, it’s true that I had a crush on Teddy,” she admitted. “I kissed him last year at the Queen’s Ball, before he even met my sister.”

In the rearview mirror, she saw Marshall grit his teeth. “This isn’t exactly helping,” he pointed out, but Sam forged ahead.

“When Teddy got engaged to Beatrice, I felt…angry, and rejected. I’m not proud of this, but I asked you to start dating me out of spite. Because I wanted to hurt Teddy as badly as he’d hurt me.

“Then you and I started acting like a couple, and at some point I stopped thinking about Teddy altogether. I really like you, Marshall, and it killed me that we were pretending. Before I met you, I never gave any thought to the guys I hooked up with. It was always just meaningless—”

“Still not helping,” he cut in, and she winced.

“What I mean is, things with you are different. So different that it scares me. Last weekend in the carriage…” They pulled up to a stoplight, and she risked a glance back at Marshall. “I thought we had agreed that it wasn’t fake anymore. That we meant it.”

“That was before I knew you were using me to get your sister’s fiancé!”

“I didn’t want him!” Sam burst out. “You have to understand, I never actually wanted Teddy. I just wanted him to choose me over Beatrice.”

“You’re not making sense,” Marshall insisted, though his tone was slightly less caustic than before.