“Can I do anything to help? Would you like, um…ice cream? Tequila?” Beatrice offered.
Sam’s eyes drifted to the ink-dark ocean, and she spoke without thinking. “I know what you can do. You can go in the water with me.”
Beatrice made a funny noise in her throat. “The ocean?”
“Why not?” She needed to do something bold and a little bit reckless right now, something to distract her from the ache that was tearing through her body.
“It will be freezing!”
“That’s the point!” The cold water seemed suddenly appealing, as if it might wash all this pain from her, let her start over fresh.
Sam rose to her feet and started toward the ocean, not pausing to take off her jeans and black silk top. Soon the water was frothing around her calves, then her waist; she waded forward, arms stretched out. When a huge wave crested before her, she closed her eyes and dove straight into it.
The air burned in her lungs. It was dark under the surface, and turbulent, and bitterly cold. But most of all it was quiet. For the first time all night, Sam couldn’t hear the roaring of her own heartache.
Beatrice was in her office the next morning when Teddy knocked on the door. Franklin, who’d been dozing at her feet, lifted his head at the noise.
“Hey, Bee.” Teddy adjusted the backpack slung over his shoulder. “I just wanted to say goodbye before I head to the airport.”
“You’re leaving already?”
He nodded. “Before I go, I was wondering…can we talk about something?”
“Of course.” Beatrice headed to one of the armchairs by the fireplace, and Franklin trotted along in her wake, to settle on the carpet with an eager thump of his tail.
Teddy cleared his throat. “I was wondering if you’ve given any more thought to my suggestions about initiatives I could take on.”
“I’m sorry, Teddy. I’ve been so busy lately.”
“You’re always busy.”
“Well, yes. There’s a lot to my job.”
It came out a bit terse and defensive, but why did Teddy feel the need to criticize her right now? Didn’t he see that she was already stretched thin?
He shifted in the velvet armchair. “That’s part of what I’m saying. I want to help, take some things off your plate.”
“I know. But, Teddy, I can’t just hand out my job responsibilities like I’m doling out candies from a box! They’re not even mine to give out. For anything serious, I’d have to ask Congress.”
“Right. Okay.” He sighed. “I just feel so useless right now.”
“You’re not useless,” she protested.
Teddy gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I am, and we both know it. It was different when I thought you would need me—that I would be your emotional support amid the chaos of the conference. But you’re doing great.” His blue eyes softened. “I’m so proud of you: you’re out there making friends, going to meetings, and getting your climate accord passed, while all I’ve done is attend a few state dinners.”
“That is helpful! I always dread those dinners, but you make them more bearable,” Beatrice insisted.
“I’m glad. But let’s face it, I haven’t contributed anything of value while I’ve been at Bellevue. All I’ve done is go sailing and work on my tan.” He tried to crack a smile. “I feel like a trophy husband.”
“In your defense, you’re very tan and extremely good at sailing. If I was in the market for a trophy husband, you would be my top pick.” Beatrice was relieved to see Teddy’s smile broaden at that.
Then he sighed. “I just…I miss you, Bee. I feel like we’re hardly ever alone anymore, that I only ever see you at a reception, surrounded by people.”
She knew what he meant. With all the pageantry of the conference, their relationship had turned into something public, as if they were costars in some elaborate, lavish production.
Or, more accurately, Beatrice was the star, and Teddy was a sidekick.
“I miss the island,” he added.
“I miss the island, too,” she said softly. “Look—I know this hasn’t been easy on you, but I promise that after the conference, when we’re back in Washington, we’ll figure out your role. Even if we have to submit a new proposal to Congress.”
Teddy nodded. “I have something that might make it easier for you.”
He leaned down to rifle through his backpack, then pulled out a manila folder. Wordlessly, he handed it over.
Inside was a single printed document.
I, Lord Theodore Beaufort Eaton, being of sound mind and body, do absolutely and entirely renounce my position and my titles, together with all their incumbent rights and privileges, their duties and fidelities. I forswear the Duchy of Boston for myself and for my descendants, and name instead as my successor my brother Lewis McKay Eaton.
This is my final and irrevocable decision.
Beatrice looked up sharply. “You don’t need to sign this now. We’re not married yet.” And we don’t know when we will be, she almost added.
“I want to sign it. It’ll stop some of the gossip about our wedding—show people how serious we are. And it’ll make things easier on Lewis,” Teddy added. “He can’t step out of my shadow until I formally remove myself from the line of succession.”
“Teddy,” she said helplessly, unsure whether she wanted to thank him—or tell him to stop.
Before she could make up her mind, Teddy grabbed a pen from the side pocket of his backpack and scrawled Theodore in the blank space beneath the text. Then he passed the document to Beatrice.
Her breath caught as she took it.
She had known from the beginning that Teddy would give up everything for her. But it felt so much more real now, watching him sacrifice the role he was born for. It was a statement of such deep faith in their relationship, in her.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said again, and cleared her throat. “But thank you. It means a lot to me.”
Teddy stood and held out his hands. When Beatrice took them, he tugged her to her feet, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.
For a long moment they stood like that, folded together so tightly that they seemed like one intertwined person—like a pair of trees planted too close together, and now their roots and branches had become forever entangled. Beatrice closed her eyes, resting her head in the crook of Teddy’s shoulder, relishing the steady warmth of him.