Majesty (American Royals, #2)(40)
There was a door to the right of the fireplace. That had to be it. Tucking her hair distractedly behind one ear, Beatrice turned the handle to pull it open—
And found herself face to face with a naked Teddy Eaton.
Beatrice gasped and stumbled back. She reached frantically for the dress that still lay on her bed and held it over her chest like a robe, closing her eyes.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to— I was looking for the closet—”
“It’s fine, Bee. Really.” His voice was thick with amusement.
She dared a look, and saw that Teddy had thrown a towel around his waist. He must have just stepped from the shower; his hair was damp, rivulets of water dripping down his body. Steam curled in from the bathroom.
“Why do I have a door that leads to your room?” Beatrice’s blood thrummed against the surface of her skin. She tried to avert her eyes, to keep from staring at him—he was still shirtless—but that only made her more flustered.
Teddy fought back a smile. “Haven’t you been in an Edwardian-era house before? A lot of them had rooms with connecting doors, for…ease of movement,” he finished tactfully.
Great. She was in a bedroom that had, literally, been designed for Teddy’s ancestors’ late-night rendezvous with their lovers.
Beatrice tried to shift the dress so that it covered as much as possible, but it felt very flimsy.
“Actually, I’m glad you stopped by,” Teddy went on, as casually as if she’d popped over for a coffee. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“Let me put some clothes on first,” she suggested, and he laughed in agreement.
When she was safely dressed in black leggings and a button-down sweater, Beatrice knocked at the connecting door. “Teddy?” she called out, tentatively pushing it open.
“Come in.” His voice sounded from inside the closet.
Teddy’s room was nearly a mirror image of her own, except that his bed was more modern. Beatrice didn’t see any framed pictures, or posters, or any other intimate touches. It all seemed as bland and impersonal as her own room was, back at the palace.
She drifted to the desk along one wall, probably because it was where she spent the most time, and was oddly gratified to see that the same must be true for Teddy. This space actually felt lived-in, with a hoodie strewn over the back of the chair, stray ballpoint pens arranged next to a pair of cordless headphones. A leather tray held stacks of official-looking documents.
Beatrice didn’t mean to snoop—but when her eyes traveled over the papers, the words payment inquiry jumped out at her from the top.
Lord Eaton, the notice read, we are respectfully touching base regarding your loan from Intrepid Financial Services. We have indicated our desire for repayment on several occasions….
Her breath caught as she turned page after page, finding more of the same: Lord Eaton, regarding your pledged donation to Massachusetts General Hospital, the board would formally like to enquire when we can expect payment….We are hoping to resolve the issue of your outstanding loan as soon as possible….Lord Eaton, this document confirms the sale of your home at 101 Cliff Road…
Teddy stepped into the room, pulling his arms through a charcoal Henley. “Sorry, it took me a while to find a pair of jeans that fit. Most of the pants in there must be Livingston’s; they’re way too short on me—” He broke off at the expression on Beatrice’s face.
“Sorry. I wasn’t trying to look through your things,” she said awkwardly, gesturing to his desk. “But what is all this?”
Teddy ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up like the quills of a porcupine. Beatrice fought back an unfamiliar desire to reach up and smooth it.
“I mean—of course—you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she added, stumbling over the words. “We did agree that we could keep secrets from each other.”
“It’s okay; you deserve to know.” Teddy sighed. “My family is on the brink of financial ruin.”
Beatrice nodded; she’d guessed as much from the content of those letters. “This is why you’re marrying me, isn’t it?”
“I…yes. Marrying you is the best thing I can do for the duchy.”
She looked away, blinking rapidly. This shouldn’t have surprised her; she’d known Teddy had his reasons for going into this engagement. But it stung, hearing the reality of their situation stated so bluntly.
Teddy explained that the Eaton family fortune, once one of the largest in America, had evaporated in a series of poor investments. For the past several years, the family had been frantically delaying the inevitable: selling off family heirlooms and tracts of land, including their house in Nantucket. But they couldn’t hold back the tidal wave much longer.
“It wouldn’t matter if it was just us,” Teddy said softly. “But there are so many people whose livelihoods, whose lives, depend on us. The people whose mortgages we bought, because they couldn’t afford to carry one on their own. Or the hospital—ten years ago my grandfather pledged them a hundred million dollars, to be paid out over the next few decades. Now they’ve done an expensive renovation, bought whole wings full of new equipment, because they’re counting on that pledge being fulfilled. What are they going to do when we tell them we aren’t good for it?”