Page 121 of American Royals
“It will stay that way your whole life. It gets even worse when you’re a parent, and have a child who becomes heir to the throne.” At last the king looked up, directly into Beatrice’s eyes. The sheer grief in his expression knocked the air from her chest. “The parent in me is overjoyed that you’ve found love. Of course it doesn’t matter to me, as your father, who you are with—as long as that person treats you well and makes you happy.”
“But …,” she supplied, when her dad fell silent. She was shocked to see his eyes gleaming with tears.
“That other part of me, the part that answers to the Crown, knows how impossible it is. If you were anyone else in the country …” The king winced and put a hand over his chest, as if he were in pain. “But you have never been just anyone. Beatrice, you cannot be with that young man and be queen. You would have to give up everything for him.”
She felt herself bristle. “You used to tell me that nothing was impossible, that we could find a solution to anything if we thought carefully and creatively enough.”
“That was about political problems!”
“From what you’re telling me, this is a political problem! That law is two centuries old. Maybe it’s time we had a commoner on the throne!” She cast him a pleading gaze. “You’re the king, Dad. Surely there’s something you can do. Sign an executive order, or submit a new law to Congress. There has to be a way out.”
Her dad’s face was very grave as he spoke his next words: “Even if there was something I could do, I wouldn’t do it.”
“What?” Beatrice cleared her throat, fighting not to scream. “You seriously won’t help me marry for love?”
“Beatrice, I always wanted you to marry for love,” her father insisted. “I just hoped that you would fall in love … within certain guidelines. That’s why I invited those young men to the Queen’s Ball. They are much more suited for this type of life than Connor is.”
Within certain guidelines. Beatrice was ashamed to realize that it might have worked: that she might have talked herself into loving Teddy, eventually, if not for Connor. She shifted onto the edge of her seat, her voice scathing.
“You honestly think that I shouldn’t be with Connor because he’s a commoner?”
Her father shook his head wearily. “Beatrice, you’ve studied the Constitution backward and forward. Don’t you know by now that the Founding Fathers never did anything without good reason?” He poured himself another splash of bourbon. His mouth was set into a grim line, his eyes shadowed. “That law is there to protect you, and the Crown, from situations like this. From … misalliances.”
Tears pricked at Beatrice’s eyes. She needed space, needed a minute to think a way through this. “Why won’t you at least give him a chance?”
“It isn’t about me, Beatrice. If I was the only person you had to convince, you would already have my blessing,” her father said quietly. “But I know how flawed the world is—how fiercely people are going to judge you, as America’s first queen. I know the near-impossible task that lies ahead of you. Trust me when I say that if you marry Teddy, he will help lessen that burden for you in a thousand small ways. Teddy will lift you up, will support you. He will be an asset to you, while Connor would prove nothing but a hindrance. And you can’t afford a hindrance. It’s going to be difficult enough for you as it is.”
“Because I’m a woman,” Beatrice said flatly.
Her father didn’t argue. “Yes, exactly, because you’re a woman, and the world will make everything exponentially more difficult for you. It isn’t right, or fair, but it is the truth. You are going to be the very first Queen of America. You have a steeper road to climb than all the eleven kings who came before you. You will have to do so much more to prove yourself, to earn the respect of foreign dignitaries and politicians and even your own subjects. I have been trying for years to help prepare you, to make things as easy for you as I can, but it’s still a challenge that you will face every single day.”
“Connor knows all of this, Dad. He’s seen my life up close, and he hasn’t been scared away. I can lean on him as a source of support.” I already do.
“He will drag you down,” her father said brutally. “Beatrice, I’m sure he means well, but that young man has no idea what he’s signing on for. How is he going to feel after years, decades, of being constantly told he’s not good enough? Of sitting quietly by your side at thousands of state functions? He will be forced to sublimate his entire life to the demands of the Crown.” The king took a bracing breath. “Connor may love you now, but is his love for you strong enough to withstand all of that?”
Of course it is, Beatrice wanted to say. The words failed to reach her lips.
“The law might seem outdated and ridiculous to you, but there’s wisdom in it,” her father maintained. “Why do you think so many of our forefathers married foreign princesses? It wasn’t just to seal political treaties. It was because no one else was capable of taking on this job. No one else, aside from the children of other monarchs, had been raised since infancy to lead millions of people.”
“You’re underestimating Connor,” Beatrice tried to say, but her voice broke.
The king wiped at his eyes. “Beatrice, I’m trying to protect you both. Even if it was possible for you to marry Connor, it would be a mistake. Someday, when he realized just how much he’d given up for you, he would regret this choice. He would come to hate you for it—and worse, he would come to hate himself.”
Beatrice couldn’t move. She felt utterly transfixed by her father’s words.
“But … I love him,” she said again.
“I know.” Her father’s hand tightened around his glass. “If it’s any consolation, you aren’t the first monarch to face this kind of sacrifice. Plenty of kings who came before you gave up someone they loved, to satisfy the demands of the Crown. Myself included.”
His words didn’t sink in right away. When they did, Beatrice’s gaze snapped up. “What?”
“I loved someone too, before your mother.”
Her blood hummed with shock. The only sound was the quiet popping of the fire.
“Who …” Beatrice’s lips felt dry and cracked.
“She was a commoner.”
