“You should talk to Mum,” Emma said, directing her gaze to Tessa. “She’ll give you a good idea of what it can be like on a day-to-day basis. Katharine and I can too, but Mum is in the best position to do so.”

  “I will do that,” Tessa said. “Absolutely. I have thought about it, you know, and I genuinely love your sister. Marriage is supposed to be for better and for worse and in sickness and health.”

  “Living it is different than it being abstract,” Katharine murmured. “Emma and I have lived for more than twenty years now with Margaret’s…issues. There are ups and downs. The downs can be hard. Painful.”

  Margaret replied, “This is the person for me. No one else.” She rose to her feet. “If you two have nothing to add, please leave.”

  Katharine sighed. Emma gave Margaret and Tessa small hugs and whispered, “Congratulations,” in Margaret’s ear. She waited for Katharine at the door.

  Katharine stood. “Talk to Mum,” the eldest sister said, looking at Tessa. “Talk with Margaret’s former nurses about what it can be like.” She gave a little smile and switched her focus to include Margaret. “Then get married. Be happy. I’m very proud of you, Margaret.”

  Tears filled Margaret’s eyes. She clung to her sister and never wanted to let go.

  Chapter Twelve

  Margaret left Treadie’s wedding reception, and Tessa watched the shapely backside of her wife until Margaret vanished completely from sight. The pieces of Tessa’s fragile heart trembled in response. Some days, they stuck firmly together as if bound by concrete. Some days, they splattered all over the place like a broken window. Right now, it was a middle-of-the-road scenario. Cheap dollar-store tape kept the pieces together.

  She needed to get her mind off Margaret. Tessa had been tempted to go home with her because Margaret’s response to the hug was encouraging. However, there had been enough times in the past year when they hugged like that and it went nowhere. One hundred percent of the time, actually.

  Margaret’s wife! A woman! Good gracious, the horror!

  “Ma’am?” A leather-clad waiter offered up a tray of alcohol. Tessa swiped two glasses and downed the drinks quickly.

  Shit. She really should’ve gone home with Margaret. She’d spend this entire time thinking about her wife. Might as well be with her.

  She loved Treadie, though, and felt it important to stay longer. Plus she really had been looking forward to tonight. Going to a private, decent party where there would be little chance of photographs being taken and leaking. Letting her hair down.

  “Hey.” It was Cheryl, Emma’s wife. “Did I see Margaret leave?”

  “It got too overwhelming for her. The noises and such.”

  “And her memory?”

  “Good today.” Tessa lied because she didn’t want to see any tragic expressions from Cheryl.

  “Oh, wonderful!” Cheryl cried.

  “Yes. She remembers most everything.”

  “That is so wonderful.” But something far back in Cheryl’s eyes indicated she knew the truth. If Margaret’s memory had returned, Tessa would have left with Margaret no matter what.

  “Come on.” Cheryl linked arms with Tessa. “Let’s find the others.”

  **

  A few minutes later, Emma and Cheryl went off to dance, and Veronica and Katharine were already dancing. A masculine-looking woman in a tuxedo and with lots of swagger approached. She had dark, slicked-back hair.

  “Your Royal Highness,” she said, bowing. “Allow me to present myself. My name is Michele, one ‘l’. Care to dance?”

  “Thank you. Maybe later. Not right now.”

  Michele bowed a grand bow. “Understood, milady. Seek me out when you’re ready, and ye shall receive.”

  “I shall.”

  Michele left, and Tessa sighed. The prospect of dancing with a woman, any woman other than Margaret, terrified her. Her brain, her heart and her body were starved for touch, for affection. She didn’t trust herself or her reactions if she let herself put her arms around a woman and allowed a woman to press herself into Tessa.

  Treadie found her. She felt comfortable dancing with him and accepted his request.

  “Margaret had to leave,” she said as they began to move to the slow song.

  “I noticed. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh well.”

  Treadie sent her in a twirl, and she returned into his arms. “This new medication,” he said. “It’s supposed to work, right? Eventually.”

  “It restored most of the memories for 75 percent of participants in a small trial,” Tessa said. “We’ll see.”

  He flagged down a waiter for champagne.

  “None for me, thanks,” Tessa said, feeling the effects of her earlier two glasses. She shouldn’t have had them, but it was demoralizing being Margaret’s wife, and Tessa wanted to forget her reality like Margaret so easily escaped hers.

  For at least seven months now, Margaret took an afternoon nap like clockwork, no matter how much she battled to stay awake. Tessa tried to be around for when Margaret would emerge from the nap, ending her appearances most days by three p.m. She would play along with whatever the reality of the day was, and wait and hope for substantial memories to return. They rarely did, and when Tessa told Margaret, “I am your wife, and this is our son,” she would get upset. She’d wear a horrified, worst-thing-in-the-world look on her face for a while, maybe even the entire time until she had another nap.

  Tessa handled it like a champ at first. She buried her emotions, stifling them. Not anymore. Now it broke her.

  The song ended, and Treadie excused himself to dance with Josh. Katharine approached and held her hand out. “Come on.”

  “No thanks.”

  “You okay?”

  Of course not! “Yes,” Tessa said.

  “Dance with me,” Katharine persisted, and Tessa remembered Katharine’s own wedding reception, Katharine drunk, her kissing Treadie and then kissing Tessa and then Veronica kissing Tessa and, in the end, Tessa went home with Emma. What a crazy, once-in-a-lifetime mess that had been.

  “Fine,” Tessa said. “Let’s dance.” If she kept saying no, Katharine might get ideas that Tessa couldn’t handle Margaret anymore, that she wasn’t as strong as she appeared.

  Katharine wrapped her arms around Tessa, and Tessa did the same with her. The queen and her middle sister had different bodies, with Katharine a mix of willowy, lean and muscular and Margaret curvier and less toned. Tessa loved her wife’s body, but Katharine’s, of course, felt very nice too.

  Tessa’s body reacted. It whimpered at the feel of this woman in her arms, this woman who willingly touched her and who would smile at her after the dance ended. Her hips had a mind of their own, gravitating toward Katharine’s, pressing into them for a slight but mortifying second.

  Tessa drew back. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

  In the bathroom, Tessa splashed water on her face and forced deep breaths inside her. When she left, Katharine was waiting and corralled her back inside.

  “What’s going on?” Katharine said.

  “Nothing.”

  “I wish you’d talk to me.”

  “I do.” And Tessa did, but Katharine was right, what Tessa told her, Veronica, Emma and Cheryl tended to the superficial: It’s hard, yeah, it doesn’t make me feel great, but that’s life and Margaret will get better.

  “Sometimes you seem ready to explode,” Katharine said. “From frustration, sadness, grief, horniness, whatever.”

  “Oh God.” This was like having a sex talk with her mother.

  “Look,” Katharine said. “I know things are bad, and they may get much worse and may never get better. I’ve done this for more than two decades. I get it, and I know it’s worse for you than it ever was for me. However, remember one thing.” A steel determination crept into Katharine’s voice. “You are married to the second-in-line to the throne. You chose my sister. If Alexander, for whatever reason, decides he doesn’t want to be king, my sister becomes queen of England, and so do you. Even if that never happens, and it shouldn’t, she’s still the highest-ranking princess in the land. I will not have you fall apart before my eyes, before the eyes of Britain. Let us help you take care of yourself. You have to take care of yourself, Tessa.”

  Anger rippled along Tessa’s spine. “I’m off to the spa. Is that all?”

  “I saw how you looked at that woman who asked you to dance.”

  “One ‘l’ Michele?”

  “Sure, her. You went painfully stiff. You wanted so badly to dance, and you said no.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. People do stupid things when they’re sad and lonely and desperate. I know the kind of person my father was. He stepped out on my mother all the time, and somehow, the media never found out or never ran with it. We won’t be as lucky. I don’t want any whiff of scandal surrounding us, especially since we already have this lesbian thing working against us.” Katharine grasped Tessa’s hand. “If it gets to be too much for you, you come to me and to my wife. We will take care of you. Anytime. Do not go to Emma and Cheryl. They’re not equipped. They would let the situation get out of control, and Tessa, you will not, ever, seek relief from anyone on the outside. We take care of our own.”

  “Oh God.” Even worse than a sex talk with her mother. Had Katharine offered herself and Veronica up for a threesome?

  “I don’t think you realize how close you are to breaking,” Katharine said.

  “Gee, how can I resist when you put it like that? Such a sweet talker. Doing it for my own sanity. Doing it for England! So kind and generous. Have you even talked to Veronica about it?”

  Katharine growled. “Of course I have. She sees it too, what’s going on with you.”

  “Who cares what it’s really like below the surface as long as I appear fine on the outside?”

  “I care. Of course I do!” Katharine sputtered. “That’s the entire point of this conversation.”

  “And what am I supposed to tell Margaret when she finally gets her memory back? Gee, I couldn’t handle it in the meantime, so I fucked around with your sister and her wife. That might not go over too well. Katharine! Look at me. I’m fine! This is hard, but I’m okay. I’m fine.”

  “I don’t think you are. I think if a woman came up to you and kissed you or touched you on the neck or the arm or the leg or the knee, you would be putty in her hands. I don’t want pictures or juicy gossip along these lines splashed on the internet and on magazine covers.”

  “Such a forward thinker.” Tessa brought her hands together for a slow clap.

  Katharine sighed. “Tessa. Look. Veronica and I will take care of you in whatever way we need to. Conversation, cuddling…whatever. Come to us if you ever feel the urge to split from yourself or to hurt yourself or to run away or…whatever. Don’t go elsewhere. It’s not necessary. We won’t judge you or hold anything against you. That’s all I am saying.”

  “I talk to your mother,” Tessa admitted.

  “I hoped you did. Is it true she has a small room at Kensington?”

  Tessa nodded. “She’s been great. I’m sorry I don’t talk to you more, but that’s because I have her. Your offer is…interesting, but it’s not necessary. It won’t ever be necessary. I love Margaret. I married her for better and for worse.”

  Katharine smiled. “I’m glad. I really am. I’m just saying—”

  “Yes, yes, I get the point. You and Veronica before anyone else. I got it.”

  “I don’t mean only sex, either,” she persisted. “I also mean for socialization, conversation, to have someone’s shoulder to cry on at three a.m.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”

  **

  Well, it had been a humiliating talk with Katharine, and Tessa bade her goodbyes afterward. She made her way home with a guard. It was nearly eleven p.m. when she arrived at Kensington. She undressed in her bedroom and put on pajamas. She looked in on Henry and kissed him.

  She entered the replica flat having no idea what she might find. She heard the murmur of voices coming from the living room, a man’s and Margaret’s. The light in the room shone on their faces.

  His name was Diego Powers. He worked in the gardens, and he transfixed Margaret many days with the ripple of his muscles under his thin shirts. She watched him from the windows and sometimes went out to talk with him.

  Tonight wasn’t the first time Tessa had caught him in Margaret’s suite, but it was the second time. And the last time if she had anything to say about it.

  They hadn’t heard her come in. Tessa watched this man and this woman, her wife, smiling at each other, leaning into each other, flirting, yes, flirting, as they worked on what looked like a jigsaw puzzle and found every excuse to touch their fingers together. Her heart thundered with anger.

  The first time she caught him, he claimed that he found her wandering lost in the gardens and that he was simply taking her back. She chose to believe him, but the keen glint in his and Margaret’s eyes indicated there was more to the story.

  Margaret was attracted to this man. She didn’t need memory for it because he was a man, a hulking, handsome strong, swarthy man who could sling her over his back, carry her down the aisle and give her the fairy tale wedding she really wanted and that the public really wanted.

  Tessa refused to be one of these scorned wives who yelled and screamed and raged. No. She wanted to, very much, but Henry would hear and other people would hear. Katharine was right. No scandal. Emotions must be kept in check whenever possible. Diego must not be given a reason to tell his friends and family that Princess Tessa was even crazier than her wife.

  “Diego,” Tessa said formally. “What brings you here so late and on a weekend?”

  He glanced up and scrambled to his feet. “Ma’am. There was a problem with the rodents. They were eating the—”

  Tessa couldn’t bear to hear more. “Go.”

  He shifted his gaze to Margaret. “We were—”

  “Go!”

  “Tessa, we have a chair for you,” Margaret said. She indicated what Tessa had missed earlier, an open chair at the table and her own small pile of puzzle pieces.

  Was she, Tessa, going crazy for real? Was she seeing things that weren’t there? Katharine had been right that desperation made people crazy. Maybe she’d mistaken simple friendliness as flirting.

  “It’s okay, Margaret,” Diego said. “I need to be going. Good night.” He left.

  “How did he get here, in our rooms?” Tessa asked.

  “I wanted a walk after I got home. I found him and he…he was…”

  “What? Handsome? Sexy? Someone you wanted to spend more time with?”

  “He seemed nice. That’s all.” Margaret still wore the dress she’d donned for the party, and Tessa averted her eyes from the exposed skin, the swell of breasts, the legs that Diego had access to for goodness knew how many minutes.

  “I want to fire him,” Tessa said. “You drool over him every day, but is there any point? If it’s not this specific Diego, it’ll be another Tom or Dick.”

  “I didn’t know I drooled over him every day.”

  “Well, you do. You gaze at him with adoration and lust every goddamned day.”

  “You’re mad.”

  “Yes! Mad, hurt, frustrated, angry. Sad.”

  “So am I! It was nice to be with someone who smiles and who is happy.”

  Tessa could understand that. Boy, could she ever. “Tell me the truth. Were there kisses?”

  “No,” Margaret said. “No.”

  “Would there have been if I didn’t come in?”

  “No! Most of my memories may have abandoned me, but I do know that I am married.”

  “Married to a woman you’re not attracted to at all.”

  A chill black silence enveloped them. “You’re very beautiful,” Margaret said, trying to thaw it. It only became chillier.

  “I can appreciate that he’s beautiful as well. Doesn’t mean I want to fuck him—no. I’m not doing this. Never mind. I’m going to my own bedroom. I may or may not be overreacting. I don’t know. I’m sorry. Good night. I love you.”

  **

  After Tessa stormed off, Margaret dropped the puzzle pieces into the box and replaced the lid. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and her stomach kept contracting and expanding with quick, trembly breaths.

  She’d known inviting Diego up was wrong, but he really was nice, he had a great smile and amazing skin and he exuded maleness and confidence. But let him kiss her or let herself kiss him…she would never. She was married, and she was the queen’s sister.

  Margaret used the toilet and looked over the bed. Her body remained shaky, and she couldn’t imagine crawling into the bed and falling asleep. Nor did she want to be alone.

  She went into her other compartment of suites, the sunny rooms. Tessa sat on her bed and looked to be angrily thumbing out a text.

  “Who are you texting?” Margaret asked.

  Tessa looked up, surprise on her expression. “No one.”

  “Let me see.”

  “No.”

  “Let me see.” Margaret grabbed for the phone, but Tessa easily, nimbly sidestepped the effort. “Let me see!” Margaret cried again.

  “Fine. Knock yourself out.” Tessa proffered the phone. It was a text to Katharine: One of the gardeners was in the NYC LR with Margaret when I got home. Diego Powers. I think I’m going crazy. I want to punch someone so badly right now. That’s a lie. I know who I want to punch. Him. That fucking guy.

  “This is our private business!” Margaret said. “It’s not Katharine’s business.”

  “When you’re the highest-ranking princess in the land, it’s the queen’s business.”

  “Don’t be such a snot!” Margaret pushed Tessa. Tessa let out a howl of rage and pushed Margaret right back. She stumbled against the wall but regained her senses in time to take advantage of momentum. She sprung forth and pushed Tessa onto the bed. Margaret climbed on top of her and said, “You think I don’t want to punch anyone, either?”