Majesty

by Katharine McGee

  When they’d gotten to Walthorpe, Beatrice had braced herself for a big, formal dinner, full of cousins and godparents and perhaps even neighbors. To her relief, the only other people at the table were Teddy’s parents and his two younger brothers; his little sister, Charlotte, was out of town.

  Beatrice loved the way the Eatons teased each other, the sort of good-natured teasing that hit almost too close to home, before they rushed eagerly to each other’s defense. They told her about Teddy’s high school years and Charlotte’s softball league and the last time they’d hosted a royal visit, over twenty years ago, when Beatrice’s dad had run the Boston Marathon. “They brought you with them, did you know that?” Teddy’s mom stated, her eyes twinkling. “They refused to travel without you, so here you were, cradle and all.”

  Beatrice hadn’t realized how desperately she needed to hear stories like that. Stories from before.

  Forcing herself to sit up, she began tugging the various pins and clips from her updo, a low chignon that the palace hairdresser had styled that morning in the capital. She sighed in relief as her hair rippled over her shoulders in a wavy dark curtain.

  As she rose to her feet, still wearing nothing but her cream-colored underwear and strapless bra, Beatrice realized that she didn’t know where the closet was. She’d hardly been in this room before dinner; one of the attendants had unpacked for her, and laid out her dress on the bed.

  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?”

  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.

  All night, Marshall had been playing the role of her boyfriend with robust enthusiasm—spinning her on and off the dance floor, charming her friends with his outrageous stories, calling her a series of increasingly obnoxious names like schmoopy and pumpkin bear.

  Everything he did, Sam realized, was larger than life. It wasn’t just his sheer physical size, though that might be part of it. But Marshall seemed to inhabit every moment to the fullest. He even laughed more deeply than anyone Sam had ever known, the type of hearty belly laugh that people joined in simply for the sake of hearing it.

  “He’ll be fine on his own,” Sam decided.

  She led Nina out of the tent, past the laughter and music bursting from its edges. The palace loomed up to their right, its glass windows catching the moonlight, so that the massive building seemed to be winking.

  Past an avenue of drooping locust trees, on the other side of a gated stone wall, was the Washingtons’ pool house—originally built by King John as a home for his mistress, though everyone pretended to forget that. Now the ornate pillars and carved stone balcony looked out over an Olympic-sized pool.

  Sam kicked off her shoes and sat along the edge, letting her bare feet trail in the water. It felt pleasantly warm; someone must have turned on the heater, knowing that the twins were having a party tonight. Wind rippled over the surface, creating a thousand shadows that chased each other over the water.

  “Okay,” Sam began as Nina sat down next to her. “What’s up with you?”

  Nina shifted guiltily. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve got that look. Like there’s something you want to talk about, but you don’t know how to bring it up.” Sam tugged halfheartedly at the hem of her white dress, which was shorter than she remembered, then gave up and looked over at her friend.

  “There is a guy,” Nina admitted. “But it’s complicated.”

  Sam nodded. “Good! You were overdue for a rebound.”

  “Actually…it’s Ethan.”

  “Wait. Ethan Beckett?”

  She listened as Nina explained that she and Ethan had started hanging out after they did a project together for journalism class. Then, last weekend, he’d walked her home and kissed her in her dorm room.

  “Have you seen him since?” Sam asked, and Nina winced.

  “He didn’t come to journalism yesterday. I don’t…What if he’s trying to ghost me?”

  “He’s probably freaking out,” Sam said patiently. “You’re his best friend’s ex, and he likes you.”

  Nina looked up, hopeful. “You think he likes me?”

  “If he didn’t like you, he would have showed up to class and acted like nothing happened. Instead he’s hiding, hoping you’ll be the one to make the next move. Ugh, men.” Sam flicked a hand dismissively. “Now you’re the one who has to decide—was it a one-time thing, or do you like him?”

  The answer was immediate. “I like him.”

  Sam leaned back on her palms on the flagstone terrace. “You do realize that things would have been so much cleaner if you’d moved on to someone new. I mean, someone outside our group of friends.”

  “No one else would get it!” Nina exclaimed. “Ethan understands what it’s like being an outsider within the royal family.”

  “You aren’t an outsider!”

  “Sam, you know I love being your best friend. But no one ever appreciates what it means. They either judge me for it, or envy me for it,” Nina explained. “All I’m saying is that Ethan gets it because he’s been through the same experience.”

  Sam hated how complicated she made things for her friend. Growing up alongside Sam had put Nina in a constrained and bizarre situation, one foot in each world without really belonging to either.

  “Okay,” she breathed.

  “So you approve?”

  “First of all, you don’t need anyone’s approval
for your romantic relationships. Even mine,” Sam said emphatically. “But for the record, I’m fine with you and Ethan. Besides,” she added, “I’m not exactly in a position to judge.”

  Nina let out a strangled laugh. “We make quite the pair. You’re faking a relationship, and I’m hiding from my ex-boyfriend, plus his best friend, who I kissed last weekend.”

  “These are massive problems,” Sam agreed. “Clearly, the only solution is to sneak into the kitchens and eat Chef Greg’s raw cookie dough.”

  Nina smiled. “You know, that does sound like a solution.”

  They started to clamber up from the ground, but before they could move, Sam heard the soft creak of the gate being opened.

  “There you are, snickerdoodle! Hey, Nina,” Marshall added. “You ladies look comfortable. Should I bring the party to you?”

  “Actually, I’ll catch up with you guys later.” Nina stood. “There’s something I need to do.”

  Sam would have argued, but she had a feeling that Nina was going to look for Ethan, so she just nodded. “See you later.”

  When Nina had left, Marshall turned to Sam with a lifted eyebrow. “Did I scare her off?”

  “She doesn’t like you,” Sam said blithely, and Marshall snorted. “I mean, she doesn’t like what we’re doing. She thinks it’s a bad idea, faking a relationship.”

  His eyes widened. “Seriously? You told her?”

  “Nina is like a sister to me!” Sam glared at him. “She would never blow our cover. She’ll take my secrets to the grave.”

  Marshall threw up his hands, chuckling. “Okay, jeez. You’re talking like the characters from Pledged.”

  Sam was oddly irritated by the reference to Kelsey’s show. “That’s insulting,” she said haughtily. “My vocabulary is leagues above their garbage dialogue.”

  “Fair point. No one watches Pledged for the banter.” Marshall came to sit next to her, clasping his hands around his knees. “Nice pool,” he added. “It’s almost as big as the one at our Napa house.”

  “A giant pool in a drought-prone region? No wonder everyone in Orange likes you so much!”