Now, for the first time in her eighteen years, Daphne Deighton felt humbled, because she’d received a gift that she truly didn’t deserve.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said hoarsely, and pulled Himari in for a quick, fierce hug. “I really missed you.”

After all this time, she had her best friend back.

Beatrice unzipped her cocktail dress and fell back onto the four-poster bed of her guest room at Walthorpe, blinking up at its canopy. The red fabric was shot through with threads of gold, making her feel like she’d floated inside a sunset.

Their day in Boston had been a whirlwind. She and Teddy had done several official appearances—a photo op at city hall, a reception at Harvard Medical School—because of course, Beatrice never got an actual day off.

Yet she didn’t mind so much anymore, now that she wasn’t doing these events alone. It was such a relief to walk into a room and know that she only had to talk to half the guests, because Teddy would take the other half. Then, afterward, she and Teddy would spend the car ride comparing notes about the people they’d met, laughing at what someone had said.

When they’d gotten to Walthorpe, Beatrice had braced herself for a big, formal dinner, full of cousins and godparents and perhaps even neighbors. To her relief, the only other people at the table were Teddy’s parents and his two younger brothers; his little sister, Charlotte, was out of town.

Beatrice loved the way the Eatons teased each other, the sort of good-natured teasing that hit almost too close to home, before they rushed eagerly to each other’s defense. They told her about Teddy’s high school years and Charlotte’s softball league and the last time they’d hosted a royal visit, over twenty years ago, when Beatrice’s dad had run the Boston Marathon. “They brought you with them, did you know that?” Teddy’s mom stated, her eyes twinkling. “They refused to travel without you, so here you were, cradle and all.”

Beatrice hadn’t realized how desperately she needed to hear stories like that. Stories from before.

Forcing herself to sit up, she began tugging the various pins and clips from her updo, a low chignon that the palace hairdresser had styled that morning in the capital. She sighed in relief as her hair rippled over her shoulders in a wavy dark curtain.

As she rose to her feet, still wearing nothing but her cream-colored underwear and strapless bra, Beatrice realized that she didn’t know where the closet was. She’d hardly been in this room before dinner; one of the attendants had unpacked for her, and laid out her dress on the bed.

There was a door to the right of the fireplace. That had to be it. Tucking her hair distractedly behind one ear, Beatrice turned the handle to pull it open—

And found herself face to face with a naked Teddy Eaton.

Beatrice gasped and stumbled back. She reached frantically for the dress that still lay on her bed and held it over her chest like a robe, closing her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to— I was looking for the closet—”

“It’s fine, Bee. Really.” His voice was thick with amusement.

She dared a look, and saw that Teddy had thrown a towel around his waist. He must have just stepped from the shower; his hair was damp, rivulets of water dripping down his body. Steam curled in from the bathroom.

“Why do I have a door that leads to your room?” Beatrice’s blood thrummed against the surface of her skin. She tried to avert her eyes, to keep from staring at him—he was still shirtless—but that only made her more flustered.

Teddy fought back a smile. “Haven’t you been in an Edwardian-era house before? A lot of them had rooms with connecting doors, for…ease of movement,” he finished tactfully.

Great. She was in a bedroom that had, literally, been designed for Teddy’s ancestors’ late-night rendezvous with their lovers.

Beatrice tried to shift the dress so that it covered as much as possible, but it felt very flimsy.

“Actually, I’m glad you stopped by,” Teddy went on, as casually as if she’d popped over for a coffee. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Let me put some clothes on first,” she suggested, and he laughed in agreement.

When she was safely dressed in black leggings and a button-down sweater, Beatrice knocked at the connecting door. “Teddy?” she called out, tentatively pushing it open.

“Come in.” His voice sounded from inside the closet.

Teddy’s room was nearly a mirror image of her own, except that his bed was more modern. Beatrice didn’t see any framed pictures, or posters, or any other intimate touches. It all seemed as bland and impersonal as her own room was, back at the palace.

She drifted to the desk along one wall, probably because it was where she spent the most time, and was oddly gratified to see that the same must be true for Teddy. This space actually felt lived-in, with a hoodie strewn over the back of the chair, stray ballpoint pens arranged next to a pair of cordless headphones. A leather tray held stacks of official-looking documents.

Beatrice didn’t mean to snoop—but when her eyes traveled over the papers, the words payment inquiry jumped out at her from the top.

Lord Eaton, the notice read, we are respectfully touching base regarding your loan from Intrepid Financial Services. We have indicated our desire for repayment on several occasions….

Her breath caught as she turned page after page, finding more of the same: Lord Eaton, regarding your pledged donation to Massachusetts General Hospital, the board would formally like to enquire when we can expect payment….We are hoping to resolve the issue of your outstanding loan as soon as possible….Lord Eaton, this document confirms the sale of your home at 101 Cliff Road…

Teddy stepped into the room, pulling his arms through a charcoal Henley. “Sorry, it took me a while to find a pair of jeans that fit. Most of the pants in there must be Livingston’s; they’re way too short on me—” He broke off at the expression on Beatrice’s face.

“Sorry. I wasn’t trying to look through your things,” she said awkwardly, gesturing to his desk. “But what is all this?”

Teddy ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up like the quills of a porcupine. Beatrice fought back an unfamiliar desire to reach up and smooth it.

“I mean—of course—you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she added, stumbling over the words. “We did agree that we could keep secrets from each other.”

“It’s okay; you deserve to know.” Teddy sighed. “My family is on the brink of financial ruin.”

Beatrice nodded; she’d guessed as much from the content of those letters. “This is why you’re marrying me, isn’t it?”

“I…yes. Marrying you is the best thing I can do for the duchy.”

She looked away, blinking rapidly. This shouldn’t have surprised her; she’d known Teddy had his reasons for going into this engagement. But it stung, hearing the reality of their situation stated so bluntly.

Teddy explained that the Eaton family fortune, once one of the largest in America, had evaporated in a series of poor investments. For the past several years, the family had been frantically delaying the inevitable: selling off family heirlooms and tracts of land, including their house in Nantucket. But they couldn’t hold back the tidal wave much longer.

“It wouldn’t matter if it was just us,” Teddy said softly. “But there are so many people whose livelihoods, whose lives, depend on us. The people whose mortgages we bought, because they couldn’t afford to carry one on their own. Or the hospital—ten years ago my grandfather pledged them a hundred million dollars, to be paid out over the next few decades. Now they’ve done an expensive renovation, bought whole wings full of new equipment, because they’re counting on that pledge being fulfilled. What are they going to do when we tell them we aren’t good for it?”

Beatrice nodded numbly, mechanically. She of all people understood what it felt like, to be responsible for the well-being of strangers.

“I know you’re overloaded with requests,” Teddy was saying. “And there’s a lot more to America than Boston. Please don’t think I’m asking you to assume these debts. All I meant was that by marrying you, I’m helping to buy us some time. Banks tend to hold off on seizing assets when they belong to relatives of the royal family.” He attempted a smile, but by now Beatrice knew him well enough to see that it wasn’t a perfect fit.

She stood very still, her mind sifting through everything Teddy had told her. Outside the open window, crickets lifted their voices in a soft chorus.

“Of course I’m assuming your family’s debts,” she decided. “Personally, if necessary. These are my people, too. I’m not about to let them lose their jobs and homes.” She let out a breath. “And I’ll buy back your Nantucket house.”

“You don’t need to—”

“It’ll be my wedding present to you.” Beatrice looked down at the carpet. “It’s the least I can do, given that you’re marrying me because you have to, not because you want to.”