And every last senator was here tonight, which made sense, since this was the congressional holiday party.
There was no space inside Columbia House that could fit this many people, so Congress had rented an enormous tent that sprawled over the back lawn: the expensive, semipermanent kind of tent with space heaters in the corners and chandeliers twinkling overhead.
So far, things had gone much better than they had at Jeff and Daphne’s engagement party, when Beatrice had kept saying the wrong thing. It was all thanks to Teddy.
From the moment she’d walked in, he’d been at her side, rapidly feeding her information about the members of Congress. Richard Tomlinson is in contentious disagreement with the rest of the Committee on Infrastructure. Don’t mention Andrea Donnelly’s son; he’s in rehab and she hates talking about it. Do mention the new tax bill to Dominic Rauch; he likes taking credit for it, even though he joined the deliberations at the last minute.
Armed with Teddy’s information, Beatrice was starting to feel almost like herself again.
It was time for her to leave soon; this party was intended for the members of Congress and their hundreds of staff members, not for the monarch. But since everyone here was a part of Her Majesty’s government, Beatrice was expected to stay for the first hour.
As with so many of her appearances, there was a formal script—greet the Speaker of the House, offer to host the party (she suspected that was why Congress had erected the flashy tent, since they knew full well the Crown would pick up the tab), dance a single dance, then leave.
When the Speaker of the House started toward her with a microphone, Beatrice knew that was her cue. She felt the voices in the tent die down, heads turning expectantly toward her.
“Representative MacDougal,” Beatrice said, using the same phrases that countless monarchs had spoken before her. “Thank you for spearheading my government for another year. Please, let this event be a gift from the Crown, though it in no way repays all your service.”
The congressman inclined his head. “It is an honor to serve,” he said formally. “Will Your Majesty please have the first dance?”
Beatrice felt a little pang. She thought of all the times she’d seen pictures of her parents doing this same end-of-year dance: whispering to each other, eyes twinkling. And now, somehow, it was her turn.
Teddy was already waiting at the edge of the dance floor. Nearby, a videographer in black trousers panned her camera toward them expectantly.
Beatrice placed her palm in Teddy’s, and something seemed to spark where they touched.
As the music started up, he led her into a waltz. Beatrice felt herself relaxing a little with the familiar steps.
“Thank you for helping tonight,” she murmured. “I can’t believe you remembered all those details.”
She must have leaned on Teddy more than she’d realized, and he must have paid close attention, if he was so familiar with the inner workings of her job.
He shook his head, smiling. “Trust me, Bee, you keep track of far more details than I do. I only know the pieces that you share with me, that we think through together.”
Thinking through things together. Beatrice was struck by a sudden image of being curled up with Teddy on the bed, her head tucked into his shoulder, his other hand toying with her hair as she recounted something that was troubling her.
She couldn’t tell if this was a memory or just something she was imagining. It should have unnerved her, but instead, a not-unpleasant shiver traced over her skin, as if Teddy really was brushing his fingertips against the nape of her neck.
The musicians had reached the first chorus of the song, and other couples began spilling onto the dance floor. Beatrice instinctively tipped her face closer to Teddy’s.
“Oh, I meant to tell you!” Teddy whispered. “I may have just gotten you the Duke of Montana.”
“What?” Beatrice was so excited that she almost tripped, but Teddy was a smooth enough dancer to cover for her. “He’s impossible to talk to! He’s so…”
“Enigmatic?”
“I was going to say grumpy,” Beatrice admitted.
“We found common ground. Turns out the duke is a sailor.”
“In Montana,” Beatrice said slowly.
“He keeps a boat in the Caribbean and another in Seattle.”
She shook her head, impressed. “So you offered him a weekend at Nantucket in exchange for his vote?”
“Beatrice! Resorting to bribery already? I’m shocked,” Teddy teased.
“I suppose it depends on the type of bribery, doesn’t it?”
The words came out flirty; she hadn’t meant them to be. Or…had she?
“What about you?” Teddy asked softly. “I saw you talking to the Duke of Roanoke.”
“I figured he was my best shot at the Old Guard,” Beatrice replied. The duke, Gerald Randolph, had suffered at the hands of men like Madison when he and his husband, Michael, got married almost a decade ago. No one ever denounced him outright; their cruelty was far more subtle and insidious.
“Maybe you can explain what he meant,” Beatrice added, glancing up at Teddy. “He told me that he didn’t want to get involved, but then sighed and said he had to, because Michael was insisting on it.”
Teddy smiled. “That was you, Bee. Michael is probably grateful that you stood up for him at our wedding.”
“I did what?”
“Robert Standish had seated Michael in some obscure pew, away from his husband. He said that protocol demanded it and refused to let Michael come in by the main door. You found out and quietly moved Michael where he belonged.” Teddy reddened a little as he added, “I guess it wasn’t that big a deal, since the wedding never happened, but it must have meant something to Michael.”
“Oh. I’m really glad I did that.” At the thought of their almost-wedding, Beatrice decided to voice a question that had been troubling her for a while. “Teddy…what happened with our wedding? Why didn’t we go through with it?”
Teddy swept her farther into the empty space at the center of the dance floor. It took a moment for Beatrice to realize that the empty space was there for them, that people had drawn back from the royal couple, the way they always used to do for her parents.
“You were worried about the message it sent, getting married before your coronation,” he told her.
Beatrice nodded slowly. She still hadn’t been formally crowned; a monarch’s coronation typically took place a year after the death of the previous monarch, during the summer. There was a powerful symbolism in Beatrice beginning her reign as an unmarried woman rather than a wife. If she got married before her coronation, people might say that Teddy was the one actually doing her job. It would weaken her.