“Sam?” he asked, bewildered. “Why?”
“She was…” Beatrice trailed off, but the truth must have been written on her face, because Teddy’s features grew grave and closed-off.
“He was here, wasn’t he.”
Teddy didn’t use Connor’s name because he didn’t know it, but it hardly mattered. Beatrice could tell exactly who he meant.
“How did you know?”
“Because I know you. I’ve seen that look you get when you’re thinking of him,” Teddy said hoarsely. “You know I’ll support you, whatever you decide. But if you want to be with him—”
“I told him goodbye.”
Teddy ran a hand distractedly through his hair, mussing its perfect golden waves. Combined with the untucked shirt and cuffed sleeves, it made him look young, and boyishly disheveled. “Then why did you cancel the wedding?”
“I didn’t cancel it; I’m delaying it,” she clarified. “Teddy, everything between us happened at lightning speed. Our relationship and engagement, the wedding planning—it was all a whirlwind. When that alarm went off today, I realized that I had gotten lost in it all.” Beatrice took a hesitant step forward, willing him to understand. “We deserve to get married when we want to, on a timeline that makes sense. I don’t want our wedding to be some kind of reaction to what we think America needs. I want it to be for us.”
“It would still have been for us, if we’d held the ceremony today.” Teddy reached for her hand.
“Would it?” Beatrice pressed. “Half of America thinks I’m marrying you because I need you to do my job for me. I’m the first female monarch,” she said helplessly. “What kind of example am I setting for the women who come after me—for all the women in America—if I don’t do it alone for a while, before you join in?”
“Let me get this straight,” Teddy clarified. “You wanted to marry me when you didn’t love me, because you thought it would help manage public opinion. And now you don’t want to get married even though you do love me, because you want to manage public opinion?”
“Public opinion is a fickle beast,” she said lightly, and let out a breath. “If I marry you now, I’m validating the claims of all those people who say a woman can’t rule alone. I want to prove them wrong.”
Teddy nodded slowly. “I get it,” he assured her. “Still…I’d be lying if I said I’m not disappointed. I wanted to be married to you. And to go on our honeymoon.”
“We should still go!”
His eyebrows shot up with surprise and unmistakable amusement. “The Queen of America, sharing a honeymoon suite with a man who isn’t her husband? Are you sure?”
“Like I told Samantha, we’re dragging this monarchy into the twenty-first century. People are going to have to get used to it.” Beatrice stepped forward into his arms, nestling her head against his chest for a moment. She’d grown so addicted to his strength and solidity, to the warm familiar scent of him.
“I promise we’ll get married someday. And that when I propose again, it’ll be better than the last time.” She saw Teddy’s mouth curl into a half smile at the memory. It was strange to think of how different things had been back then, how little they’d known each other.
Beatrice paused, fumbling for the right words to explain. “When I marry you, I want to do it as me, not just as the queen. And I’m still figuring out who that is. Who I am.”
Teddy’s blue eyes were very soft as he said, “I know exactly who you are.”
“I know. You believed in me, even when I wasn’t brave enough to believe in myself.” She tilted her face up to his. “But there are so many things I still want to do. I want to see the world and have adventures and learn, so that someday when we get married, I’m ready for it. And most of all…”
She looked out at the balcony, and the teeming mass of people still gathered below. Their phones winked at her like a million dancing fireflies.
They were her people. If her father were here, she knew precisely what he would say: that he was proud of her, that he loved her. That she had the power to change history.
“Most of all?” Teddy prompted.
Beatrice tugged her hands from his and stepped toward the balcony. She was suddenly glad that she’d taken off her wedding gown; she didn’t want to look like a bride right now, but like a sovereign.
She was going to make a balcony appearance—to step out into the warm June night, alone.
“Most of all,” she told him, “I am going to be the queen.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
For reasons I still don’t understand, sequels always seem to cause more trouble than their predecessors! I am so grateful to everyone who devoted their time and talents to making this book a reality.
To my editor, Caroline Abbey: thank you for your endless patience, for your ability to laugh, and mostly for being so ridiculously good at your job. There is no one I would rather be on this royal journey with.
A huge thank-you is due to the entire publishing team at Random House, especially Michelle Nagler, Mallory Loehr, Kelly McGauley, Jenna Lisanti, Kate Keating, Elizabeth Ward, Adrienne Waintraub, and Emily Petrick. Noreen Herits and Emma Benshoff, thank you for your boundless energy and your willingness to publicize this book in all kinds of unexpected ways. Also, special thanks to Alison Impey and Carolina Melis for these truly magnificent covers.
Joelle Hobeika, this story is so much stronger because of your guidance. Thank you for never giving up on it. I am lucky to work with an incredible team at Alloy Entertainment: Josh Bank, Sara Shandler, Les Morgenstein, Gina Girolamo, Kate Imel, Romy Golan, Matt Bloomgarden, Josephine McKenna, and Laura Barbiea.
Naomi Colthurst, thank you for the editorial breakthrough that saved this plot—you understand Samantha in a way that no one else does! Thanks also to Alesha Bonser and everyone at Penguin UK.
I am constantly in awe of my foreign sales team, Rights People. Alexandra Devlin, Allison Hellegers, Harim Yim, Claudia Galluzzi, and Charles Nettleton—thank you for bringing American Royals to so many languages around the world.
I don’t know how I would do this job without my friends. Meaghan Byrne, you were the perfect partner in crime at Mount Vernon. Sarah Johnson and Margaret Walker, I can always count on you to debate the finer points of my alternate-history timeline, translate Latin, and generally act as on-call historians. Emily Brown, thank you for letting me vent each time the story got the better of me. Sarah Mlynowski, I am always grateful for your creative help. And Grace Atwood and Becca Freeman, thank you for being American Royals’s earliest cheerleaders, and for proving it’s possible to make real-life friends through the internet.
I would be nowhere without the unwavering support and guidance of my parents, who are still my greatest champions. Lizzy and John Ed, I love you both so much. Sorry for all the times I’ve stolen details of your lives and put them into a book—I would promise to stop, but we all know that’s a lie.
And finally, Alex: none of this would be possible without you. Thank you for carrying me when I need it most.