American Royals by Katharine McGee Page A

to do this?” Teddy asked as she leaned back. The bow tie was perfectly symmetrical, with crisp edges. Beatrice never attempted any task that she couldn’t complete perfectly.
    “My etiquette master taught me.”
    He started to chuckle, then caught himself. “Oh my god,” he said. “You’re not joking. You really had an etiquette master?”
    “Of course I did.” Beatrice squirmed beneath his scrutiny.
    “And what did this etiquette master teach you?”
    “Table manners, how to curtsy, how to get in and out of a car safely—”
    “I’m sorry, why is that part of etiquette lessons?”
    Beatrice tried not to feel even more embarrassed. “I have to swing both legs out at once, my knees locked together, to keep the paparazzi from …” She couldn’t bear to say getting a crotch shot, but she didn’t have to, because Teddy’s eyes widened in understanding.
    “I’m really glad I don’t wear skirts,” he joked. It made Beatrice want to burst out laughing. She settled for pursing her lips against a smile.
    The sounds of the ballroom emanated toward them, growing softer as the night wore on. Teddy looked over at her, thoughtful. “I saw you around Boston a few times, you know, when I was home on break.”
    “Really? Where?”
    “At Darwin’s. I used to go there to study,” he said sheepishly. “I always knew when you were coming, because one of your protection officers would do a sweep of the place. Ten minutes later you’d pull up on your bike, hiding your face under a baseball cap, to pick up bagels and cold brew. I thought it was cool of you,” he added softly. “That you went to get bagels yourself, when you clearly could have sent someone.”
    Beatrice flushed. She was aware that the baseball cap hadn’t fooled anyone, but the nice thing about college was how much people respected her privacy. Even when they recognized her, they generally didn’t bother her. “I loved biking to Darwin’s. It was a lot of work to get me there, but I never wanted to give it up.”
    “What do you mean, it was a lot of work to get you there?”
    “One of my protection officers would follow in a car with darkened windows, while the other—the one who’d done the sweep—would be waiting at Darwin’s to greet me,” Beatrice said sheepishly. “It was a lot of intricate choreography, just for a bagel.”
    “In your defense, those bagels taste best fresh out of the oven. They would never have lasted if you’d had them delivered to the library, or wherever you were studying,” Teddy assured her.
    “Police station.” Beatrice corrected him before she could catch herself.
    “What?”
    “I couldn’t ever get work done at the library. It was so crowded, and I don’t really like being in small, enclosed spaces, not when they’re full of people ….” Beatrice swallowed. “I used to bike to the Cambridge police station with my bagels and hang out on the top floor doing my homework. No one ever bothered me there.”
    She felt a little silly confessing this, but Teddy nodded in understanding. “What was your go-to bagel order?” he asked, deftly changing the subject.
    “Blueberry, with extra cream cheese. Unless I got a butterscotch brownie,” she confessed. “I used to eat those once a day during exams. They were my personal anti-stress routine.” She tilted her head to look at Teddy. “What was your Darwin’s order?”
    “The Brawny Breakfast Sandwich, the one with chorizo and jalapeños. I’m addicted to that spicy kick,” he confessed, and laughed. “I worry that I’m being judged by my bagel choice.”
    “I don’t have much else to judge you on. The other guys spent most of the time talking about themselves.” Beatrice had given him the opening, but Teddy refused to take the bait.
    “Maybe I have less to talk about.”
    “You aren’t going to brag about Yale?” she said lightly.
    “I didn’t want to rub it in that I went to such a better school than Harvard,” he replied, with another