Page 41 of American Royals
Maybe she was watching for him, or maybe her nerves were just on high alert, but Beatrice noticed the moment Connor slipped into the box. He planted himself just inside the door, standing in the typical Revere Guard manner, his spine straight, his holstered weapons within reach. She wondered if he’d come here under orders, or out of curiosity—to see the musical that brought even Princess Beatrice to tears.
Some foolish instinct made her try to catch his eye, but Connor didn’t look her way. His gaze was fixed on the stage, as inscrutable as ever.
SAMANTHA
Not even Midnight Crown could distract Samantha from the fact that Teddy Eaton was sitting mere inches from her, on a date with her sister.
She spent the entire second act in a low throbbing agitation, hyperaware of how close Teddy was. So close that Sam could slap him across the face, or grab his shirt with both fists and yank him forward to kiss him.
Honestly, she hadn’t ruled out either possibility.
For some masochistic reason, she kept replaying their interaction in her head, examining it from every angle, like a jeweler studying the facets of a gemstone in various lighting. Maybe it was foolish of her, but she’d thought there was something real between her and Teddy. What had prompted him to ping-pong from her straight to Beatrice? Was he really just another of those shallow guys who went after Beatrice for the wrong reasons, who wanted nothing more than to be America’s first king consort?
How had Sam’s instincts about him been so off base?
She was relieved when the performance ended and they all filed into the reception hall for the afterparty. Servers passed with trays of hors d’oeuvres: deviled quail eggs, goat cheese arancini, smoked salmon arranged on tiny slices of cucumber. Most of the cast was already here, still wearing their costumes, their faces slick with makeup and sweat.
“You okay?” Nina asked meaningfully. She knew how difficult it had been for Sam, seeing Teddy with Beatrice.
Sam cast her friend a grateful look. She was so glad Nina had agreed to come with her tonight. Something about her friend’s no-nonsense humor, her fierce and unwavering sense of self, made Samantha feel like she could face anything.
“I need a drink,” Sam decided. “Want to come?”
Nina hesitated. Her gaze drifted behind Sam and softened imperceptibly. “That’s okay. I’ll wait for you here,” Nina murmured. Sam glanced around, wondering who had prompted that look, but the only person standing there was Jeff.
When she reached the bar, Sam asked the bartender for two glasses of wine and a whiskey sour, just as an all-too-familiar figure stepped up next to her. “No beer tonight?” Teddy asked.
As if it hadn’t been enough for him to spend the entirety of the performance tormenting her, now he had to ruin the afterparty, too.
Samantha pursed her lips and said nothing, determined to be cool and aloof. She didn’t owe Teddy an answer. She didn’t owe him anything, even if her traitorous body persisted in leaning toward him. She tried—and failed—not to remember how it had felt, being pressed up against him in the scented darkness of the coatroom.
Teddy seemed determined to try again. “What did you think of the show?”
Sam glanced up at him, her eyes snapping fire. “If you must know,” she said coldly, “I thought it was utterly inspired. It reminded me of the Henriad.”
She’d expected the reference to go over his head, but to her annoyance, Teddy nodded in understanding. “Of course—Shakespeare’s early history plays. Because Midnight Crown tells America’s story to America the same way that Shakespeare told England’s to the English.” He smiled at her, an off-kilter smile that set her stupid heart racing. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Shakespeare enthusiast.”
“Right, because Beatrice is the smart one,” Sam said venomously. “I’m just the girl you made out with in a closet, until my sister finally deigned to meet with you.”
Teddy recoiled at her words. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t what I—”
Sam ignored him, reaching for the drinks that the bartender slid toward her. “See you, Teddy.” Her peacock-blue dress fluttered around her stilettos as she stalked back across the room toward her friend.
Nina was still chatting with Jeff; the sight of them deep in conversation, their heads tipped together with surprising intimacy, caught Sam off guard. She didn’t remember them getting along this well in the past.
“How’d you know I wanted a whiskey?” Jeff exclaimed in delight, reaching for the cocktail as Sam handed Nina one of the glasses of wine.
“That was for me, actually, but you can have it,” Sam replied. “I love you just that much.”
“And here I was thinking our twin telepathy had finally started working.” Jeff clinked his glass lightly to hers. “Thanks.”
Sam’s eyes cut back to Nina. “Why does he keep trying to talk to me?”
“I think Teddy is just trying to be polite,” Nina offered, realizing at once who she meant.
Jeff frowned in confusion. “Teddy Eaton? We barely know him.”
“Exactly,” Samantha snapped. Teddy barely knew her, yet already he had judged her, found her wanting, and upgraded to Beatrice. She swirled her wine over and over, building her own little tornado within the confines of her glass.
