Page 91 of American Royals

“I’m just trying to understand,” Sam persisted. “In your room that day, after you proposed to him, you seemed so unhappy. I keep watching you and Teddy at all your engagement events, waiting for either of you to say I love you, but you never have.”

Beatrice shifted on the counter. Samantha was far more observant than the world gave her credit for.

“I just wish it had been anyone but Teddy. At least if it was someone else …” Sam trailed off before she could finish, but Beatrice knew enough to fill in the blanks.

If Teddy were free of their engagement, then at least one of the Washington sisters might be happy.

Beatrice had assumed that Sam was flirting with Teddy out of spite, or simply because she was bored. She hadn’t realized her sister’s feelings ran so deep.

Beatrice twirled the spoon between her fingers. It was heavy, engraved with fruits and foliage all the way down the handle. “I’m sorry,” she told her sister. “I wish things were different.”

Sam’s eyes blazed. “Then go make them different! Get unengaged to Teddy so you can both move on with your lives!”

“I can’t just get unengaged to him.” Beatrice rolled her eyes at Sam’s made-up word. “Not now. I would be letting everyone down.”

“Who, the PR people and party planners? In case you forgot, they work for you!”

“It’s not just them,” Beatrice said helplessly.

“What is it, then?” Sam’s face went a hot, indignant red. “If you don’t love Teddy, why are you rushing to the altar?” Her temper had always been like this, cruel and lightning quick. Beatrice felt her hold on her emotions starting to fray.

“I know it might seem fast, but I’ve given this a lot of thought, okay? I really am trying to do the right thing for this country.”

“And what reason does the country have for needing you to get married right now?”

Beatrice felt suddenly dizzy. “Stability,” she insisted, “and continuity, and symbolism …”

“You’re just saying a bunch of meaningless words!”

“Because Dad is dying!”

Beatrice hadn’t meant to say that. She wished she could snatch the sentence from the air and swallow it back into her chest, where its razor-sharp wings had been beating furiously for weeks. But it was too late.

“What?” Sam’s hands gripped the edges of the counter so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

“He has cancer,” Beatrice said miserably.

“What?” Sam repeated, with an audible gasp. “What do you—how can—why didn’t he tell us?” she managed at last. A tear trailed down her face and fell into the bowl of macaroni that lay forgotten in her lap.

Then Beatrice was crying too, as the story spilled from her in a jumbled mess: their father’s fatal diagnosis, the reasons he had for keeping it to himself—and what he had asked Beatrice to do.

Samantha set her mac and cheese aside with a jarring clatter and threw her arms fiercely around Beatrice.

It was the first time they had hugged like this in years. Beatrice hadn’t realized, until this moment, how much she’d missed her sister.

“I can’t believe you’ve been dealing with all of this.” Sam reached up to fiddle with her ponytail. “You’ve held it together so well, I never would have realized that you were upset.”

“Sometimes I think I hold it together too well,” Beatrice said softly. She hated that her siblings thought she was cold or unfeeling. Just because she’d been brought up to keep her emotions hidden didn’t mean that she never experienced those emotions.

Sam nodded. Tears still glistened on her cheeks. “I’m glad you told me. No one should have to carry this kind of burden alone.”

“That’s what being the heir to the throne is. Being alone,” Beatrice said automatically. Walking alone, sleeping alone, sitting alone on a solitary throne.

Even once she married Teddy, Beatrice knew, she would still feel alone.

A gentle hum emanated from the refrigerators. The overhead lights fell in wide beams over Samantha’s features.

“Do you ever wish that you were someone else?” Beatrice asked, after a while.