Page 56 of American Royals

Teddy gave a gentle shake of his head. “I think you’d be surprised.”

Sam thought back to the night of the musical—when Beatrice had knocked on her door, wide-eyed and lost, and Sam had greeted her with nothing but disdain. She colored at the memory.

“What about you? Did you make any good friends at Yale?” she decided to ask.

“Yeah, but I’m more like you. I’ve had the same best friend since childhood,” Teddy admitted. “It’s just easier with people who’ve known you for most of your life, rather than people who judge you after the first glance.”

She twisted a lime-green hair tie up and down her wrist. “I know what you mean. People never have a good first impression of me.”

Teddy’s blue eyes deepened. “Or sometimes the first impression is fine, and it’s the second impression that goes all wrong.”

Sam wondered if he was talking about them—about her first impression of Teddy, and how drastically it had changed after he went out with her sister.

Her confusion was broken by the buzzing of her phone, where it lay perched on a nearby ledge. Sam lurched out of the hot tub to grab it. Her eyes widened when she saw the text she’d received.

“Beatrice is on her way back. She should be here in a couple of hours,” she said slowly. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d hoped Beatrice would remain stranded in Montrose.

“I’m glad she’s okay,” Teddy replied, though some strange emotion darted over his face at the news.

“Teddy … what’s really going on, with you and my sister?”

For a moment Teddy tried to shrug off her words. “I’m not good enough for Beatrice,” he said, with a self-deprecating smile. “She’ll end up with someone far more important than I am—the Duke of Cambridge, maybe, or the tsarevitch.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “She can’t be with another heir; that’s a political impossibility.”

“Is it?”

“Of course! The last time heirs to their respective thrones married each other was Philip of Spain and Queen Mary, and we all know how that turned out.”

“We do?”

“Not well,” Sam said curtly.

“Too bad, then.” Teddy let out a sigh. “The truth is, I’ve enjoyed getting to know your sister. I really admire her.”

“That’s the least romantic endorsement I’ve ever heard.” Sam hadn’t quite meant to blurt it out like that, but to her relief, Teddy didn’t seem bothered by her words.

“She’s the future queen. I don’t think I’m supposed to feel romantic about her,” he said abruptly. “She exists on a higher plane than the rest of us, at the level of … I don’t know. Symbols and ideals.”

The way Teddy said it, he made it sound pretty impossible to feel romantic about Beatrice.

“I’m grateful, of course, that your parents thought I was worthy of being considered—”

“My parents set you guys up?”

“Beatrice didn’t tell you?” At her stunned look, Teddy let out a breath. “Your parents made a list of guys they wanted her to meet at the Queen’s Ball. And I made the cut. Of course,” he added, “my parents didn’t tell me the real reason we were attending the ball that night until after I’d already met you.” His eyes pleaded with her, a silent request for forgiveness. “I would never have gone into that coatroom with you if I’d known I was on Beatrice’s short list.”

Short list. Oh god.

Sam remembered what Beatrice had said the morning after that ball: No one is asking you to get married.

She’d gotten it all wrong. She had assumed Beatrice was pursuing Teddy just because she could, when in fact their parents apparently wanted a royal wedding. Maybe they’d seen all those op-ed articles complaining about Beatrice’s lack of a boyfriend, or maybe they were simply anxious for some grandchildren, to secure the all-important succession for another generation.

“I didn’t realize,” she said quietly.

“Look, Beatrice and I get along,” Teddy said. “We understand each other. But if it was up to me …” He didn’t finish that sentence.

She could only manage a single word. “Why?”