I peered up at her through my tangle of hair, and I thought I saw a hint of appraisal in her face. And then I found that I couldn’t make any words come out of my mouth.

“Yes,” Freddie said tightly. “Find Nick. Now.”

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

Just like that, we were a family of two again.

Everything that came next was a blur, a montage set to my own ragged breathing. The only possible positive about having a medical emergency at Buckingham Palace is that its staff is peerless in the art of making you believe you’re alone, only to appear at your elbow in the moment you realize you need them. Before Daphne could even return with Nick, I was scooped into a guest room, helped into a crisp medical gown, and laid in a towel-lined bed while someone paged the Queen’s gynecologist. In half an hour, Nick by my side looking green and worried, we got confirmation of what I already knew. My pregnancy was over as unexpectedly as it had begun.

“I wish I could say that’s all she wrote, my dear,” the doctor said, with the practiced softness of a man who’s spent his life delivering this news as often as delivering babies. “But there is some tissue we should remove. We can perform a dilation and curettage in the palace surgical theater, unless of course you’d prefer the medicinal option, which involves taking a pill and then waiting…”

As he talked, I simply stared, watching his mouth move, hearing him, believing his words, but hardly comprehending them. My pregnancy had happened in the first place because a hundred infinitesimal things happened to go exactly right. How cruel that all that magic could be undone in one split second.

I realized the doctor had stopped speaking and was now looking expectantly at me. His eyes went to Nick, as if to ask whether the decision was being abdicated to my husband. Nick put a comforting hand over mine. “Are you up for this? Do you want to decide, or do you need a minute?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and put my hands over my abdomen. I had just slipped into a rhythm of seeing this as a stroke of biological luck rather than a shock. That little spark of life had made its way into my heart, and now it was gone—and yet not, because part of it still clung to me, and I wanted to reciprocate. Even for an extra second. I’m sorry, I thought as deeply into my body as I could, as if it were listening. I’m sorry it took so long to want you. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you we were happy.

“Your Royal Highness?” the doctor asked, possibly of either one of us. “Shall we prepare the surgical room?”