Page 96 of Reign
“He’s testing the boundaries of what he wants, letting go of his insecurities, finding new strengths. And Jeff,” she added, “you know how much pressure Marshall’s family puts him under.”
Jeff nodded slowly. “Look, I’m hardly a relationship expert…”
“Says the first one of us to get married,” Sam teased.
He didn’t laugh at that, the way he should have. Instead a cloud darted over his expression and he replied, “No one saw it coming, did they?”
Before Sam could ask about that in more detail, he went on: “I’ve always thought that you and Marshall seemed like the real deal. You have some issues to resolve, but I have a feeling you will. You’re obviously crazy about each other.”
Sam hoped he was right. She missed Marshall, with a dull ache that seeped into every waking moment. She kept pushing it to the back of her mind, because once she let herself wallow in it, she wouldn’t ever get out of bed. But if she and Marshall were happy in different places—if they were building very different lives—then what future could they possibly have together?
She stood and wandered to the heavy wooden sideboard, where pictures in silver frames were arranged at neat angles. The twins’ baptism, the pair of them in matching white gowns covered in ribbons and lace. A family portrait of all five Washingtons at Christmas, Sam and Jeff matching in red plaid—hers a dress, his a pants-and-shirt combination. Finally, a portrait of the twins celebrating their joint eighteenth birthday, both of them in jeans and white Oxford shirts. Lord Colin Marchworth, the photographer, had cried out in protest when Jeff tried to roll up the sleeves of his shirt and reveal his forearms: “You cannot showskinin a royal portrait!” As if their bare wrists were the scandal that would break the monarchy.
“Remember when we used to dress in matching outfits?” she mused aloud.
Jeff came to join her by the photos. “It would look a little weird if we tried to do that now. Though I have to say, I could probably still rock a shortall.”
Perhaps it was odd to admit, but a part of Sam missed those matching outfits, with the coordinated piping, the white knee socks and monograms. There had been a comfort in presenting a united twin front to the world, of being one instead of two. The force of their personalities doubled. The pair of them together, indivisible.
But theyweren’tthe same anymore. At some point they had set out on different paths, and now they were so far down those paths that Sam didn’t know how to find her way back to her brother anymore.
“I’m sorry I abandoned you like that. It wasn’t fair,” she told him.
“No, I’m the one who needs to apologize. I was too hard on you when you came home.” Jeff met her gaze and ventured an almost-smile. “Though I have to say, I’m a little glad I was such a jerk, only because it prompted you to show everyone how awesome you are.”
She stared at him. “What?”
“Sam, you’re proven yourself in a way that none of us ever have. You went out into the world and lived without titles or palaces, and you landed on your feet. You reminded us all how talented and resilient and smart you are.” He spoke with an emotion that Sam used to hear in her father’s voice all the time. It took a moment for her to recognize it as pride.
“I’m really sorry for how I reacted when you came back,” Jeff went on. “I was just…hurt. I just couldn’t believe that you would run away without talking it through with me. Or at the very least, warning me.” Jeff drummed his fingers on the side of his beer bottle. “We used to tell each other everything.”
“I know,” she said softly.
“What happened to us, Sam?”
“Nothing happenedtous, exactly. It’s more that things stopped happeningbetweenus. You started spending more and more time with Daphne, and then Dad died….”
“And thenyoustarted spending all your time with Beatrice, training as her heir, and I was left behind.”
Sam blinked. For most of their lives, Jeff had been blithely content to be one of the spares, shirking any real responsibility in favor of the easy royal tasks.All the perks and none of the problems,he and Sam used to joke. But then their dad had died and Sam became the heir…and now she was out of the picture entirely, and the burden had fallen entirely on Jeff.
“You’re not left behind anymore,” she reminded him. “You’re the heir now.”
“Sam, I never cared about my place in the order of succession, whether it was the heir or the spare or the second cousin everyone forgets about. I just cared about being a part of whateveryouwere doing.”
Guilt twisted in Sam’s chest at that, and she swallowed.
Jeff sighed and went on. “I get it now, at least a little. Afterall this circus with the wedding…I understand why you and Marshall felt like you had to run off to Hawaii to escape it all. It’s not the same for me and Daphne, obviously,” Jeff hurried to add, “but it still sucks.”
“I know what you mean,” Sam assured him.
Things were different for them, because Daphne was a woman, and white, and even if her family had lost their baronetcy, she had spent her entire life following the rules—whereas Marshall, a future duke, had always delighted in breaking them. Jeff and Daphne weren’t facing the same hurtful racial commentary that had plagued Marshall and Sam.
But the wedding had escalated things, turned his relationship into a commodity, an object of mass consumption for the entire world.
“Jeff…is everything okay?” Sam asked tentatively.
There was so much loaded into that question.Are you sure you should be getting married? Can I help?
