Page 96 of American Royals II: Majesty

Beatrice let out a shaky breath. “I just…I wish Dad was here.”

Sam crossed the room in two strides, then pulled her sister into a fierce hug.

Neither of them spoke. But it was a soft, easy sort of silence, because Sam knew they were both thinking of their dad.

“It’s hard, doing all of this without him,” Beatrice went on. “There’s thisholewhere he should be—and no matter how happy I am about everything else, I can’t stop wishing he was here.”

Sam’s throat closed up. “Heishere, Bee. He’s looking down on you and smiling.”

Sorrow glinted in Beatrice’s eyes. “I know. But I still miss him, so much. I love Uncle Richard, but he’s not the first person I would’ve picked to walk me down the aisle.”

Sam stood up a little straighter. “Do you want me to talk to Mom? She should have agreed to walk with you from the beginning.” Queen Adelaide was down the hall in the Blue Chamber, along with Teddy and his groomsmen; she’d chosen to let Jeff lead her down the aisle, rather than walk with Beatrice—as her husband would have, if he were still here.

“It’s fine.” Beatrice shook her head at Sam’s expression. “Don’t be hard on Mom. Today is supposed to be a joyful day, forallof us. I won’t ask her to do something that would cause her pain.”

Sam blinked. “Bee—what if you walk yourself?”

At her sister’s stunned look, she rushed to explain. “Hear me out. You’re thequeen,the highest-ranking person in this country. The only person who can give you away is yourself. So why don’t you walk down the aisle alone?”

Beatrice glanced down, her hands twisting in the fabric of her robe. Her silver sequined heels glinted in the light.

“I…plenty of people will be angry,” she said nervously.

Sam hated that her sister was right. A young woman heading down the aisle by herself—it was a snub to convention, a blatant show of independence.

“Maybe they will,” she acknowledged. “But what better way to start changing their minds?”

Beatrice hesitated, then tipped her chin up, her expression stubborn and quietly resolute. Sam couldn’t help thinking that she looked startlingly like their father when he’d been on the brink of a decision.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

There was a knock at the door, and Robert Standish peered into the room. “Your Majesty, the hair and makeup artists are here to do final touch-ups. Then Wendy Tsu will help you into your dress.”

The room was about to dissolve into a small hurricane of hairspray and lipstick. Sam cast a pleading glance at her sister, who laughed in understanding. “You can go, Sam,” Bee said. “Just don’t stay away too long.”

“Thank you,” Sam breathed.

Ignoring the curious stares of footmen and security guards, she started restlessly down the hallway. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen the palace thronged with so many people. The throne room was probably full by now; the guests had been told to arrive almost an hour before the ceremony, for security reasons.

The only place free from all the chaos was the winter garden, a small space tucked into the side of the palace. At the center of its brick courtyard stood a potted lemon tree, which only grew in this climate thanks to the assiduous care of the palace groundskeeper.

“Sam?”

A lean, blond figure unfolded himself from one of the benches, and Sam swallowed.

“Teddy. What are you doing out here?” she asked self-consciously.

A hesitant smile curled over his features. He wore the ceremonial navy and white of the Dukes of Boston, his dress coat complete with tails and stitched in golden thread. Even his white gloves were fastened with gold buttons. Sam knew, in a distant and unaffected part of her mind, that he looked impossibly handsome.

“The same thing as you,” Teddy said. “I needed a breath of fresh air before all the handshaking and small talk.”

“But you’re so good at all that stuff,” she observed.

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “That doesn’t mean I like doing it, though.”

The silence that fell between them was less awkward than Sam might have expected. She realized that she hadn’t been alone with Teddy since that day at the Royal Potomac Races all those months ago, when he’d told her he was marrying her sister.

“Sam—”