Majesty

Beatrice slid into the passenger seat and buckled her seat belt over her floral silk dress. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten to sit in the front of a car.

“Are you hungry?” Teddy asked, as he pulled out of the palace’s main drive. “I was thinking we could go to Spruce. You love their kale salad, right?”

Actually, Beatrice had never liked Spruce. It was too loud, full of media people and models all vying to be noticed. The last time she’d been there was for an interview she’d done last summer.

“Wait a second,” she said, as comprehension dawned. “Did you read my profile piece in Metropolitan magazine? Were you studying up on me?”

Teddy flushed, his eyes fixed on the road. “I don’t usually plan a date without doing a little recon.”

There was a funny silence as they both realized he’d used the word date.

“For the record, I only ordered the kale salad that day because I couldn’t get a burger,” Beatrice went on.

“Why not?”

“A burger isn’t interview food. Too messy,” she said regretfully.

Teddy glanced over, his eyes bright. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s burgers. But we’re not getting you the one at Spruce. I mean, they put brie on it.”

“What an abomination,” Beatrice agreed, smiling.

Teddy chuckled and turned up the music, some indie rock band that Beatrice didn’t recognize. “I’m so glad you see sense.”

It wasn’t until she saw the bright lights of the drive-through that she realized Teddy was taking her to Burger Haus.

“I grew up on these,” he admitted, before pulling up to the intercom and ordering two cheeseburgers. Beatrice was amazed by the efficiency of the system. Seeing her expression, Teddy chuckled.

“Beatrice. Have you ever eaten fast food?”

“Of course I have! Just not from a drive-through.” She glanced down, smoothing her dress over her thighs. “We ate at McDonald’s as a family at least once a year when I was a kid. Our press people alerted the tabloids ahead of time, so they could plant photographers at nearby tables. They always used them in that section, ‘Royals: They’re Just Like Us.’?”

“Then you haven’t really eaten fast food,” Teddy told her. “Everyone knows it’s impossible to enjoy a burger when paparazzi are watching you eat it.” He was trying to sound lighthearted, but it didn’t quite work. Beatrice wondered if she’d frightened him—if he was coming to realize what he’d signed on for, agreeing to marry her.

They reached the drive-through window, and a woman with a high ponytail looked up at them. Her eyes widened as she squealed in recognition.

“You’re Theodore Eaton! The Dreamboat Duke!” When she saw who was in the passenger seat, her face grew even redder. “Oh my god, Your Highness—I mean Majesty—” She sank into a startled curtsy, still holding a container of fries in one hand.

Normally Beatrice would have acknowledged the woman with a gracious smile. But she was out in a car without her Guard, about to eat a burger without worrying about how unflattering it might look in photos. Actually, no one was taking her photo at all. The prospect filled her with a childish excitement.

“Really? You think I look like the queen?” she said, and winked.

* * *



Later, when he’d dropped her back at the palace’s entrance hall, Teddy cleared his throat. “Before I go, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he ventured. “My parents were wondering—would you come to Walthorpe for a weekend?”

Visit Teddy’s childhood home. Beatrice was surprised at the flicker of anticipation she felt at the prospect of learning more about him.

“I’d love to,” she agreed.

Teddy broke into a relieved grin. “Okay, great,” he said, thumbs looped into his pockets. “Well…I should get going. You need to rest your throwing arm for tomorrow’s big pitch.”

Oh, right. Beatrice had almost forgotten that tomorrow she was scheduled to throw the first pitch at National Stadium. It was a long-standing tradition in American baseball that the monarch opened one of the first games of the season.

“You’ve practiced, haven’t you?” Teddy added, at the look on her face.

“I was just planning on tossing it underhand. I mean, the whole thing is ceremonial. Won’t everyone just want me to hurry up and throw the ball, so the real game can begin?”

“You can’t toss it.” Teddy sounded horrified. “Beatrice, America judges people based on their throwing ability. As if your first pitch represents what kind of ruler you’ll be.”

“Great,” Beatrice said darkly. “Now when I throw it in the dirt, I’ll get booed off the field.”

“We won’t let that happen,” Teddy promised.

“What do you plan to do, teach me to throw a baseball between now and tomorrow morning?”

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands,” he assured her. “I was captain of my high school baseball team. And I was the pitcher.”

“I thought you were captain of your football team.”

“Yeah, I was that too,” he said easily.

“What else were you, prom king?” When Teddy didn’t protest, Beatrice threw up her hands in exasperation. “Oh my god, you were. You’re literally Mr. America! No wonder that woman called you the Dreamboat Duke!”

“Please don’t use that name,” Teddy groaned. “Now come on, we’re wasting moonlight.”

Half an hour later they were out on the palace’s back lawn. A few moths fluttered nearby, their wings glimmering a silvery purple. The night was cool, but the air had a soft, expectant quality that held the promise of summer.

With the help of a footman, Teddy had tracked down some of Jeff’s high school athletic gear. He rifled through the box, grinning triumphantly when he emerged with a baseball and a pair of old gloves.

Pulling on the catcher’s mitt, he headed past her and crouched onto the balls of his feet. “Okay, show me what you’ve got, Bee.”

She froze. Only two people had ever used that nickname. “Where did you hear that? Calling me Bee, I mean.” She wondered if Sam had told him, or if he’d come up with it himself. After all, it was the first syllable of her name.

“You don’t like it?” Teddy gave a puzzled frown, and Beatrice shook her head.

“No, I like it. I just—I haven’t heard anyone say that in a while.”

Taking a deep breath, she threw the baseball. It veered wide to the right of Teddy’s face. When he tossed it back to her, she held up her glove, fumbling to catch it, but missed.

“Okay, so you can’t catch,” Teddy said bluntly, as she scrambled to grab the ball from the ground. “But that doesn’t matter, because you won’t have to catch tomorrow. Our problem is that you throw like—”

“Don’t you dare say ‘like a girl,’?” Beatrice cut in, and he laughed.

“Please, I know better. You should see Charlotte’s fastball.” He shook his head. “I was going to say that you throw like you’ve never held a baseball before.”

Teddy took off his glove and walked back over, to stand behind her. “Let’s try this again: slowly, one step at a time. I’ll talk you through the whole thing.”

Beatrice hardly dared breathe as his hands settled on her waist.

“First of all, you’re too far forward.” He put a slight pressure on her hips, turning her, then wrapped his arms around her and closed his hands over hers. Beatrice was suddenly and acutely conscious of every place their bodies touched.

“Start with the ball at chest level. Now lift your left hand and point toward your target.” As he spoke, Teddy kept his hands on Beatrice’s arms, guiding her carefully through the motions. His breath sent shivers down the back of her neck.

When she finally threw the ball, it went farther and straighter than it had the first time. “That was better!” Beatrice cried out in triumph, and turned around.

Teddy’s magnetic blue eyes were fixed on hers. He shifted, and for a breathless moment Beatrice thought he was going to kiss her. Instinctively she tipped her face up—but nothing happened.

He’s my fiancé, she realized, with a dazed sort of shock. Of course he was, she knew that, yet the knowledge struck her now in a way that it hadn’t before.

It was as if, all this time, she had known that she was marrying Teddy Eaton, son of the Duke of Boston. But only now did she fully appreciate that she was marrying Teddy Eaton, the man.

“Yep, that was better,” Teddy agreed, and smiled at her—not the picture-perfect smile she’d seen a thousand times, but a new, disarming smile, unguarded and infectious.

It was his true smile, Beatrice realized.

And for the first time since she’d lost her dad, she was smiling her own true smile, too.



Nina clattered down the staircase of an off-campus house, her flapper dress swaying with the movement. She reached into her purse to check her phone one last time, in case any of her friends were ready to leave the party, too.

And, Nina admitted to herself, in case she’d heard from Ethan.