Page 83 of Rivals
“Really? What is it, then?”
Beatrice hesitated. Because itwassexism, wasn’t it? Beatrice’s detractors never said it aloud, never authored op-eds that statedBeatrice shouldn’t rule because she’s a woman.They just criticized everything she did. If she wore a new dress, she was extravagant; if she recycled an old one, she had no style. If she was photographed holding a glass of wine, she was a lush; if she didn’t drink at an event, she was pregnant, or boring, or rude to her hosts. If she was caught in a photo unsmiling, then she wasn’t likable; if she smiled too broadly, she was trying too hard.
“You’re right,” Beatrice said slowly.
“It’s the same for me. You know the French have never had a queen regnant before. Unless you count theeight weeksthat Eleanor d’Aquitaine ruled between husbands, in the twelfth century,” Louise added sarcastically. “My father never said it aloud, but he didn’t have to. He feels uncomfortable with the fact that a woman will succeed him.”
Something fell on Beatrice’s hand; she realized it was a blade of grass. Louise was plucking them like flowers, one at a time with the relentlessness of a bulldozer, then letting them drift back down.
“My parents tried and tried to have another child. It wasn’t until I was twelve, when it became clear that no little brother would ever emerge to save the day, that the Assemblée Nationale changed the laws of succession. I went from being an heir presumptive to an heir apparent,” Louise explained. “Otherwise the throne would have gone to our closest male relative—my fourth cousin Pierre, the Duc d’Anjou.”
“I don’t know him,” Beatrice admitted, and Louise barked out a humorless laugh.
“He tried to have a career as an artist. Aperformance artist.Lots of glitter and eggs and body paint,” Louise said flatly. “His last so-called performance was appearing at the Eiffel Tower in nothing but a red Speedo and red wig, dancing a Scottish jig to a soundtrack of the Vienna Children’s Choir. He got arrested for public indecency; my father called the chief of police and quietly got him released.”
Beatrice couldn’t help chuckling at the image. “As far as art goes, that must have been quite memorable.”
“And yet my father still considers asking the Assemblée to change the law back, pass the throne to Pierre instead of to me.”
Beatrice’s laughter stilled. “Louise—I’m so sorry.”
At least her own father had never made her feel like a second choice.
Louise made an impatient noise. “This is precisely why I’ll never marry. It’s hard enough facing opposition from the country; I can’t face it from my husband, too. I’ll be like Elizabeth I. The Virgin Queen of the twenty-first century! Except…well, you know.”
Beatrice couldn’t tell how much Louise was joking. “You don’t mean that. It would be so lonely to rule alone.”
“It can be even lonelier if you marry the wrong person,” Louise said simply. “My parents are the loneliest people I know.”
That was such an achingly sad statement that Beatrice couldn’t really answer.
“What about Theodore?” Louise asked, after a moment. “He doesn’t mind that you’ll always outrank him, that he’ll come second in his own marriage?”
“He knows what it means to be with me.” Beatrice thought of the signed declaration on her desk, and her heart sank. She wished that she sounded more certain.
“What is he going todoall day, deal with charities and nannies? All the things queens consort used to do?” Louise propped herself on one elbow, seeming genuinely curious.
“Maybe? I don’t know!” Beatrice sighed. “Teddy is sweet and selfless. We’ll figure it out together.”
Louise had a point, though. Teddy’s position was uniquely strange—and even though he was a smart, loving, empathetic man, he was still a man. Would he really be happy when they had a baby someday and Teddy was outranked by his infant child? Would he feel emasculated by the fact that their children would all take her name?
“Then he is special indeed,” Louise told her. “The only man I ever got serious about…he ended up breaking my heart.”
“I’ve had my heart broken, too.”
Beatrice had no idea why she’d admitted that, but the words were out and there was no taking them back. Perhaps she simply needed to say it aloud, since she’d never really spoken it before.
“Really? Who was it?”
“My Revere Guard.” Beatrice had never told this to anyone except Sam; the whole story had spilled out of her after their father died, when she and Sam were both crying over his grave. It felt like a very big secret to tell Louise.
“No!” Louise laughed, a lighthearted sound that made Beatrice’s confession somehow less weighty. “Oh, I had no idea you had it in you! To think, you’re just as cliché as the rest of us.”
“I…what?”
Louise was still swallowing back a giggle. “You’re hardly the first princess to hook up with her bodyguard. It’s practically one of our job requirements.”
“It was more than that!” Beatrice insisted, stung. She and Connor hadn’t just beenhooking up;they had loved each other, even if was a first love and not a forever love. “He was my friend, too. One of my only friends.”
