Even so, managing all those outside expectations was practically uncomplicated compared to the other major X factor. I hadn’t spoken to Freddie in person since the night we were recalled to Balmoral. I’d seen him out the library window coming and going, and I’d texted him twice to ask if he wanted to come dig through Georgina’s junk, or join us for dinner. Both times, he’d been otherwise engaged.

Right before we were meant to leave for Hampton Court, I saw Freddie wander over and sit on our front steps to bury his nose in our dossier for this appearance. My stomach sank. Normally, Freddie wouldn’t think twice about walking in and flopping on the couch—hell, the first time we met, it was because he’d snuck into Nick’s room as a joke—but now he couldn’t even stand to ring the bell. I decided to force a conversation even if it killed him. Apparently, the main duty of the Duchess of Clarence was finagling recalcitrant royals into talking.

I pulled open the door as subtly as I could, poked out my head, and then shouted, “Why didn’t you knock?”

Freddie jumped, nearly dropping the dossier. He closed it around his finger to mark his place, and got to his feet. “I, uh, didn’t know if you’d be ready,” he said.

I eased outside and closed the door, then waved my hand in a ta-da motion. “My duchess costume is a go.”

He took a step back against the railing. “You look extremely unscandalous. Where’s Nick?”

“On the phone. Probably getting yelled at about something.”

“I heard Gran is giving you a rough go,” Freddie said.

“She is the immovable object and the unstoppable force, all at once,” I said. “Lacey’s theory is that she’s testing my moxie.”

“How is Lacey?” Freddie asked, a genuine smile on his face.

“She’s great. We Skyped the other day and it’s obvious she’s happy, even though she’s had to become a morning person. The time stamps on her emails are early as hell.”

“At least she’s finding time to reach out and put things in writing,” Freddie said.

A silence, pregnant with meaning, stretched between us.

I nudged him with my foot. “I’ve seen the woman visiting you.”

Freddie turned inward. “I can’t, Bex. Not now. Not with you.”

“Fred,” I began, shifting so that I was next to him. “I started so many texts, Freddie. I wanted to email. But I didn’t—”

“You can stop right there. You didn’t,” he said.

His face had turned pink. My heart simultaneously rose into my throat and sank into my feet.

“I hate that we made you feel alone,” I said.

“But you don’t hate that you left me alone.”

I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t. Leaving, and hiding, had been easier for me than staying and dealing with the fallout. Maybe we should have stayed. For Freddie, for the family, for The Firm. But I knew I’d make that same decision again. Nick and I had an entire lifetime ahead in which we’d doubtless, and often, surrender our personal needs for family and country, so even in the face of Freddie’s anguish, I couldn’t rightly say I felt regret.