Majesty (American Royals, #2)(41)

Beatrice nodded numbly, mechanically. She of all people understood what it felt like, to be responsible for the well-being of strangers.

“I know you’re overloaded with requests,” Teddy was saying. “And there’s a lot more to America than Boston. Please don’t think I’m asking you to assume these debts. All I meant was that by marrying you, I’m helping to buy us some time. Banks tend to hold off on seizing assets when they belong to relatives of the royal family.” He attempted a smile, but by now Beatrice knew him well enough to see that it wasn’t a perfect fit.

She stood very still, her mind sifting through everything Teddy had told her. Outside the open window, crickets lifted their voices in a soft chorus.

“Of course I’m assuming your family’s debts,” she decided. “Personally, if necessary. These are my people, too. I’m not about to let them lose their jobs and homes.” She let out a breath. “And I’ll buy back your Nantucket house.”

“You don’t need to—”

“It’ll be my wedding present to you.” Beatrice looked down at the carpet. “It’s the least I can do, given that you’re marrying me because you have to, not because you want to.”

She hadn’t meant to say those last words, but there they were.

Teddy took a sudden step closer. “That’s unfair, coming from you.”

“What?”

“Come on, Beatrice,” he insisted, in a tone she’d never heard him use before. “You’re the one who’s in love with someone else.”

The words fell like heavy stones into the space between them. She blinked. “How did you…”

“Samantha told me, the night of our engagement party. She said that you were calling off the wedding because you loved someone else.”

Beatrice’s mouth had gone dry. There was something surreal about hearing Teddy mention Connor, as if she’d stepped into the distorted reality of her dreams.

Every instinct in her screamed to deny it—to shrink from revealing anything personal, the way she’d always been taught.

But Teddy had told her the truth about his secrets. Didn’t she owe him the same?

“The guy I was talking about—he’s gone,” she confessed. “He left court. He was…” She trailed off before giving any more details, but Teddy didn’t press her. Instead he asked a question she hadn’t expected.

“Do you still love him?”

Beatrice blinked. “That isn’t…”

“I think I have a right to know.” Teddy’s voice scraped over the words. “I deserve a little warning if you’re going to spend the rest of our lives hating me.”

“Why would I hate you?” she repeated, startled.

“Because I’m not him!”

An uneasy silence followed his words. Beatrice sucked in a breath, feeling disarmed. She forced herself to meet Teddy’s impossibly blue eyes.

“I did love him,” she said at last. “But now…”

Now when she thought of Connor, he seemed out of reach, as if she were trying to snatch at a shadow that rippled on the surface of water. As if all she had left were memories of memories.

“I don’t know anymore,” she whispered. “And really, it doesn’t matter; I’m never going to see him again.” She hesitated—but here they were, laying all their ugly truths on the table, and she was surprised at how urgently she wanted to say this. To acknowledge the silent obstacle that kept looming between them.

“Unlike you and Samantha,” she added.

Neither of them had mentioned Sam until now, as if they both knew it would be easier to pretend Teddy had never been involved with her.

“Look, Bee, I’d be lying if I said I never had feelings for your sister,” he said uncomfortably. “But that was before, okay?”

“Before what?”

He held out a hand, then lowered it, as if he’d thought better of the gesture. “I just…I guess I thought it was you and me now.”

The simplicity of that statement made her fall still.

Again Beatrice had the sense that there was something archaic and fine about Teddy, something that belonged in another century. Surrounded by all the other people of court—who made promises they never intended to keep, who operated out of pure self-interest—he shone like real gold in a sea of cheap imitation metal.

Beatrice reached for Teddy’s hand, tugging him toward her. He looked surprised, but didn’t pull away.

“You’re right. From now on, it’s you and me.”

As she spoke the words, she felt them becoming true.





“Nina!” Sam exclaimed, realizing they’d hardly seen each other all night. She pushed her way through the center of the tent, where she’d been dancing with Jeff and his friends—which was probably why Nina had kept her distance.

When she’d caught up to her best friend, Sam flashed a bright, exuberant grin. “I need some air. Come with me?”

“What about Marshall?” Nina asked.

Sam glanced to where Marshall stood near the bar, recounting some anecdote amid gales of laughter. Everyone looked distinctly sloppier than they’d been when they first arrived, their hair disheveled and their smiles too wide.