“I know you’ll think of something.” Her mother turned on one heel so fast that her skirts fluttered around her.
As the bathroom door clattered, Daphne began fumbling through her leather clutch. Her hands shaking only a little, she quickly dabbed concealer beneath her eyes and touched up her waterproof mascara. She felt like an Amazonian warrior, arming herself before battle.
When she was done, she stared into the mirror—at her high arched brows, her full lips, the vivid green of her thick-lashed eyes—and let out a breath. The sight of her reflection always calmed her.
She was Daphne Deighton, and she had to keep moving relentlessly, ruthlessly, constantly forward—no matter what, or who, stood in her way.
It was hard for Princess Samantha to enjoy the Royal Potomac Races this year.
Usually she loved them. Not for the reason some people did, because they were a chance to see and be seen: the first event of the spring social calendar, marking the return of galas and parties after a winter of hibernation. No, Sam had always enjoyed the races for their energy. They were so brash, so utterly American, with an infectious, carnivalesque sense of excitement.
But this year the colors felt dull, as if her senses were muted under a thick blanket. Even the band sounded strangely out of tune. Or maybe she was the one out of tune.
Everywhere she looked, all she saw was the achingly conspicuous space where her father should have been.
Sam remembered how once, when she was little, she’d told her dad that she wanted to grow up and be as strong as the rowers. “But you are strong,” he’d replied.
“As strong as what?” Sam had never understood why people used adjectives without defined parameters. “Strong as a lion? Stronger than Jeff?”
King George had laughed, leaning down to drop a kiss on the top of her head. “You are as strong as you need to be. And I am prouder of you than you’ll ever know.”
Sam blinked rapidly at the memory, wrapping her arms around herself despite the afternoon sun. Then she saw a familiar blond head across the crowds, and her breath caught.
He was as gorgeous as ever in a linen jacket the same shocking blue as his eyes. A matching pocket square, monogrammed with his initials, completed the look. Sam would have teased him for the absurd preppiness of it, if every cell of her body weren’t aching at his nearness.
She’d never meant to fall for her sister’s fiancé. When she’d met Teddy Eaton, the chemistry between them had been instant and electric. Neither of them had known that he was intended for Beatrice. Sam had tried, after that, to stay away from him…but by that point it was too late.
When Teddy saw her heading toward him, an instant of surprise, or maybe even pain, flickered over his features, but he quickly smoothed it over with a smile—the same way Beatrice always did. Sam shivered a little at the thought.
She hadn’t heard much from Teddy this past month, but she’d assumed he was keeping his distance out of respect for her grief—that when they saw each other again, everything would fall back into place. Now she couldn’t help fearing that his silence meant something else.
“It’s so good to see you,” she breathed, once she’d finally reached his side. Her voice was hoarse with longing. This was the closest they’d been since her father’s funeral.
“Samantha.”
At his distant, formal tone, her smile faltered. “What is it?”
“I thought—I mean, I wasn’t sure…” Teddy studied her face for a long moment; then his shoulders sagged. “Beatrice hasn’t told you?”
Dread pooled in her stomach. “Told me what?”
He ran a hand helplessly through his hair; it fell back in the same perfect waves as ever. “Can we go somewhere alone, just the two of us? We need to talk.”
At the mention of going somewhere alone, Sam’s heart had lifted, only to seize in fear when she heard we need to talk. The four most ominous words in the English language.
“I…all right.” Sam shot Teddy an anxious glance as she led him around the corner, into a narrow passageway between the Royal Enclosure and Briony, the next tent over. There was no one in sight, just a few humming generators that fed air-conditioning into the tent through fat cords.
“What’s going on?” Sam dug her heel anxiously into the mud.
Teddy’s expression was shadowed with remorse. “I’m kind of glad the queen didn’t tell you. I guess…it’s best you hear this from me.”
Sam felt her muscles quietly tensing, her body caving inward as if readying for a blow.
“We’re getting married in June.”
“No,” she said automatically. It couldn’t be. The night of her engagement party, Beatrice had pulled Sam out onto the terrace and confessed that she was calling off the whole thing. She was going to talk about it with their dad, come up with a plan for telling the press.
Except they’d lost him before Beatrice had time to do any of that. And now that she was queen, Beatrice clearly felt obligated to go through with this ill-advised engagement.
“So it meant nothing, when you said that we were in this together? Teddy, you promised!” And so had Beatrice.
Sam should have known better than to hold her sister to her word.
Teddy’s fists clenched helplessly at his sides, but when he spoke, his voice was oddly formal. “I’m sorry, Samantha. But the queen and I have agreed.”
“Stop calling her the queen! She has a name!”
He winced. “I owe you an apology. The way I’ve handled all of this…it hasn’t been fair to Beatrice, and especially not to you.”
There was something so stubbornly honorable about his confession that Sam couldn’t help thinking how right she’d been when she’d told Beatrice—in a fit of pique—that she and Teddy deserved each other.
“It’s not fair to you, either!” Sam cried out. “Why are you doing this?”
He looked down, fiddling with a button on his blazer. “A lot of people are counting on me.”
Sam remembered what he’d said in Telluride, which felt like a lifetime ago: that the Eatons’ fortune had evaporated overnight. Marrying Beatrice, gaining the support of the Crown, would save his duchy from financial ruin. Because it wasn’t just about Teddy’s family: the Eatons had supported the Boston area—had been its source of financial stability, its largest employer—for over two hundred years.
Teddy, who’d been raised as the future duke, felt obligated to take that responsibility onto his shoulders.