American Royals

Footsteps sounded behind her. She turned around, expecting one of the footmen or bureaucrats, and was delighted to see Teddy instead. He was walking slowly, lost in thought.

She and Teddy hadn’t gotten a moment alone together since their illicit kiss in the hot tub. She’d seen him a few times since their return from Telluride, always at crowded functions, when he was officially there with Beatrice. But their eyes would meet across the room, and Sam would know, with a hot glow of certainty, that he was thinking of her.

In those moments, every inch of her felt so eager and alive that she had to forcibly restrain herself from taking his arm and dragging him away with her.

“Hey. I didn’t realize you were coming over today.” She reached for Teddy’s hand, but he neatly detangled himself from her grip and took a step back. The motion was like a bucket of cold water tossed over her head.

“I can’t—not right now. I’m here to see Robert,” Teddy told her.

“Standish?” Sam wrinkled her nose in a frown. “What on earth for?”

“To discuss the press announcement.”

“Press announcement?” Sam asked blankly.

Teddy was silent for a moment. A series of emotions flickered over his face, too fast for her to read. “I assumed you knew. Beatrice and I had agreed to tell our families. But I guess she wanted to save the surprise.”

Sam’s heart struck a strange rhythm in her chest. “Tell your families what?” she asked, too quietly, because some part of her already knew and refused to face it.

“About our engagement.”

The shock of it vibrated through her.

Teddy’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Beatrice asked me to marry her, and I said yes.”

Tiny white lights danced before Sam’s vision. She felt short of breath, like one of her ancestors, constricted in a corset and gasping for air.

Teddy took a cautious step toward her, but Samantha stumbled back, holding up her hands to warn him off. “I can’t believe you,” she said viciously. “Are you seriously going to marry my sister?”

He winced. “I’m sorry that I kissed you in Telluride. It wasn’t fair to Beatrice, or to you.”

“You can’t go through with this,” Sam insisted, ignoring his mention of the hot tub. This was much bigger than a single kiss. “Teddy, you can’t marry Beatrice just because your family expects it of you.”

Steel flashed in his eyes. “I’m sorry, but you don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do.”

“Why not?” she pressed. “You’ve already lectured me about deciding what to do with my life! So now I’m asking you the same question. Is this really what you want—to marry Beatrice?”

“Don’t make me answer that,” Teddy said stiffly.

“If you don’t actually want to marry her, then why did you say yes to her proposal?”

“I said yes because you can’t say no to the future queen, not when she asks a question like that!”

“Yes, you can. It’s easy!” Sam argued. “You open your mouth and tell her no!”

“I’m sorry.” Teddy’s voice was so hoarse, so defeated, that it seemed unrecognizable. Those piercing blue eyes were filled with remorse.

Rage shot through her like a flash of summer lightning. “Fine. If this is really how you want it to be.”

“It isn’t how I want it to be, but I told you, I don’t have a choice.”

“Everyone has a choice, Teddy. And you, apparently, choose this.”

His features contorted in pain, but he didn’t answer. She didn’t really expect him to.

“Let me tell you something. If you think this marriage is going to give you a position of power, you’re wrong.” Sam spoke slowly, enunciating each syllable—even the punctuation, even the spaces between the words—with terrifying care. “You’ll be forced to set aside your own desires to support Beatrice. She will be in the limelight and in the driver’s seat, not you. Your children will have the last name of Washington.” She took a dark pleasure in Teddy’s anguish at her words.

“Beatrice will prioritize herself, and what she thinks is right for the country.” She glanced away, her tone falling to a whisper. “I would have always put us first.”

“Sam …,” he said brokenly.

She shook her head. “Like I told you when we met, only my friends call me Sam.”

Teddy hesitated another moment, then seemed to think better of it. He swept her a low, formal bow before heading down the hallway.

Sam leaned her palm against the wall and took a few ragged breaths. The portraits along the gallery seemed to be staring at her, their jaws tightened in judgment, their eyes cold and disappointed. As if they were silently telegraphing their displeasure at her—the worthless spare daughter, the flighty and ridiculous Sparrow.

As if they, too, would choose Beatrice over her.

Before she’d thought it through, Sam was storming upstairs to Beatrice’s suite, barging past her bewildered Revere Guard without even bothering to knock. She slammed the door behind her with a resounding thud.

Beatrice was seated at her desk, her hands poised over the keys of her laptop. She glanced up at Samantha’s arrival and gave a watery smile. “Hey, Samantha.”