“Thank you,” Beatrice said softly.
“I faced the same kind of opposition in my day, you know. I was one of the only acting duchesses of my generation. I know what it’s like to face down men who tell you that you aren’t good enough.” The duchess seemed suddenly galvanized, as if the prospect of taking on Madison had infused new purpose into her. “I look forward to working together, Your Majesty.”
“As do I.”
Beatrice stood in her stirrups, leaned across the distance between their two horses, and shook the duchess’s hand right there on the dusty trail. Exactly how she expected things to be done in Texas.
* * *
When they returned to the barn, the duchess informed Beatrice that dinner would be in a few hours. “Very casual, we’re having barbecue outside. You haven’t seen a sunset until you’ve seen one in the Texas hill country.”
Then she headed back into the main house, leaving Beatrice and Connor together. Alone.
“Hey, Bee,” Connor said softly. It was only two syllables, but hearing them made it seem like no time had passed at all.
Beatrice swallowed against a sudden tightness in her throat. “How are things in Texas?”
“I’m happy here.” At the bleak expression on her face, Connor hesitated. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve actually…I’ve wanted to talk to you since the accident.”
He looked at the grooms still untacking their horses and lowered his voice. “Why don’t we take a walk.”
They started along a grassy field, past paddocks of glossy-looking horses and a single donkey that, from the way it kept nudging the horses out of the way, thought it was one of them. Beatrice caught a glimpse of the river through a veil of cypress trees.
She drew in a breath, then explained about her retrograde amnesia, how she’d forgotten most of the events of the past year.
Connor shook his head in surprise. “You could have fooled me. You seem as calm and collected as ever.”
“If I seem that way, it’s all an act.”
It was strange, being so near him and feeling distant. Once upon a time Connor’s body had been as familiar to Beatrice as her own, yet now she didn’t reach for his hand. Because she didn’t feel like she was allowed—or because she no longer felt a compulsion to?
“Bee. You didn’t come here for me, did you?” His eyes burned with intensity. “Because—well, I—”
He broke off abruptly, leaving Beatrice staring at him in confusion.
“I came here to meet with the duchess, though seeing you was an important bonus. I was hoping you could give me some answers.”
“I’ll do my best,” he said hesitantly.
“What happened to us?”
Connor didn’t answer right away. Beatrice knew from the set of his jaw that he was deliberating his response.
“We grew apart,” he said at last.
“How?”
“It just…happened.”
“You don’t love me anymore,” Beatrice summarized, because it had to be spoken aloud.
“I don’t love you,” Connor agreed, “and you don’t love me. I think you know that already.”
Beatrice knew that he was right; she felt the truth of his words, with an instinctive, almost primal certainty.
“Things changed for us when your father died, Bee. You pulled away from me, and you fell for Teddy,” Connor told her.
“I didn’t marry him, though.”
“I don’t think you called it off because you were having second thoughts about Teddy.” Connor seemed to be forcing out the words. “You told me that very afternoon that you loved him. You had other reasons, whatever they were.” He sighed. “I hope this helps give you closure, if that’s what you came for.”
Closure. What a strange concept. Was it possible to close your heart to someone you had loved that fiercely for that long?
Beatrice reached for Connor’s hand.
He hesitated for an instant, then laced his fingers in hers. At the feel of his familiar calluses, the old electric current seemed to hiss between them. It made Beatrice think back to the night she’d first acknowledged her feelings for Connor: the night of the twins’ graduation, when she and Connor had driven from the Madisons’ house back to the capital. She had seen his hand on the central console of the car and daydreamed about taking it in her own.
“Do you remember when we got stuck on the highway, and I knighted the cashier at that rest stop?”
The hint of a smile tugged at Connor’s mouth. “How could I forget? Sir Stan Stevens.”
“I wonder what happened to him,” Beatrice mused.
“Want me to find out?”
“Nah. I’m okay not knowing,” she decided. “It’s better this way.”
They stayed like that for a moment longer, their hands clasped, and Beatrice knew it would be the last time they ever touched.
When they let go, Connor wordlessly turned back toward the stables.
“I meant what I told you when we last said goodbye. I’ll always be here if you need me.”
Beatrice had no memory of that statement, yet hearing it made the world feel a little brighter.
“Thank you. I’m always here, too. Whatever you need.”
It felt like the tectonic plates of her life were shifting: as if the old Beatrice had cracked and a new Beatrice, fierce and resilient and unafraid, had stepped out of the wreckage.
“You know, you look good in a cowboy hat.” Beatrice immediately flushed; she hadn’t meant to sound flirtatious. “What I’m trying to say is that you seem very at ease here.”
Connor’s smile was as warm as she remembered. “Turns out I like being a cowboy. We could get you a hat, if you want one,” he added. “It would go with your boots.”
“That’s okay. I’ll leave the real cowboy attire to you and the duchess.”
“So things between you and Her Grace went well? I saw you shaking hands. It looked like you got what you came for?” Connor asked.
“Yes.” Beatrice let out a breath as she stared up at the blue expanse of sky. “I got everything that I came for.”
Samantha reached for her phone the moment she woke up, hoping that Marshall had texted while she was asleep. She would take any text right now, even a string of incomprehensible emojis—anything to convince her things between them were okay, when she knew deep down that they weren’t.