CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
May
IT WAS ONE OF THOSE glorious autumn days when the sun felt as high and warm as summer, but with a hint of the coming winter in the wind that tugged at May’s hair.
The air was filled with the jangle of bridles and the crunch of wheels over gravel.
Five o’clock on a Sunday—the peak time to see and be seen at Hyde Park, with all the sporting gigs and broughams looping through the ring, men on horseback weaving around the carriages at a crisp trot.
The first time May had brought Agnes here, her friend hadn’t understood; apparently there was no such social hour in the parks of Chicago. But Agnes quickly came to realize that Hyde Park was like an outdoor ballroom. Rotten Row was really just one long parade where society showed itself off.
A group of men on horseback cantered into view, and May immediately sat up straighter.
They weren’t just society, but the peak of society—the princes Eddy and George, with their cousins, the Tsarevich Nicholas and Prince Constantine of Greece.
A pair of grooms trotted behind them, dressed in the livery of Marlborough House.
“I’m so glad you suggested we come out today,” Agnes murmured, following May’s gaze.
May could only nod. Her heart had leapt strangely at the sight of George; she hadn’t seen him since the Cadogans’ ball.
“It’s remarkable how much the tsarevich looks like Their Royal Highnesses,” Agnes went on, her eyes flicking to the group of young princes and then away again.
“They are cousins,” May said absently. Really, the most striking resemblance was between Nicholas and George.
Eddy’s coloring was fairer, his build slimmer, while George and the tsarevich shared the same chestnut hair and deep blue eyes, the same broad torso and square jaw.
They were the ones who looked like brothers.
As May was pondering this, a gust of wind tugged her hat loose and sent it billowing into the breeze.
“Oh no!” she cried out, unthinking. The hat was her favorite: a gift from Agnes, made of navy felt and trimmed in deep blue feathers.
“By all means, you must go retrieve it. You look far too fetching in that hat to lose it,” Agnes remarked. There was a funny note to her voice, but May was too preoccupied to fully register it.
She hesitated for an instant, because young women typically didn’t leap down from their carriages in the middle of Hyde Park, but the sight of the hat careening toward the pond decided her.
May wasn’t Agnes; she didn’t have enough beautiful things to give one up without a fight.
She quickly slid out of her seat and began running in the direction the hat had disappeared, down the bright green slope of the lawn.
This section of the park was clearly not intended for foot traffic—the grass was untended and wild—but May’s crinolines protected her legs from getting too scratched.
“May!” a voice behind her called. It took a moment for May to register the pounding of hoofbeats.
She turned in surprise, lifting a hand to shade her eyes. George had come after her, still mounted on his dappled gray horse.
“You didn’t have to follow me.” May immediately longed to swallow back the words; she hadn’t meant to make George feel unwanted. “I just feel a little silly, losing my hat like this.”
“One of the hazards of Hyde Park,” George said generously, because they both knew it wasn’t a typical occurrence. He vaulted down from his horse with surprising ease, looping the reins around a branch before starting down the slope toward May. “Do you know where the hat ended up?”
May pointed to the edge of the pond, where it was curled in a sodden heap, the dark blue ribbon trailing over a lily pad in a pitiful gesture of surrender.
George nodded. “I’ll fetch it for you.”
“Are you sure?” The water looked brackish, a few beetles hopping over its surface.
But George was already picking his way along the grass. “I’m not sure you want to put this back on,” he warned, once he reached the hat. “It might need to be cleaned first.”
The wind whipped at May’s hair again, tugging a few ashen curls loose from their pins. She reached up to tuck them back. “Thank you. I still can’t believe I lost it like that.”
“I saw the hat fly away; I know that this wasn’t your fault.” A smile touched George’s lips as he added, “Unlike Louise’s hat.”
May drew in a breath. “You remember that?”
It was back when they all used to vacation together at Chiswick, where brightly colored pebbles lined the shores of the lake.
One summer when she was nine, May had spent days collecting her favorite stones, working tirelessly, silently, like a machine.
And then when the bucket was nearly full, Louise had seized it and thrown the whole thing into the water. Simply to prove that she could.
Hurt and bewildered by the random act of cruelty, May had yanked the hat off Louise’s head and tossed it into the lake.
“Of course I remember. I always pay attention to…” He trailed off, leaving May to wonder if he’d been about to say pay attention to you.
“I was young and immature,” May began, but George shook his head.
“It’s so rare that Louise suffers any consequences for her actions. I’m glad you did it.” He hesitated a beat before adding, “Aside from that, we had fun at Chiswick, didn’t we? I miss those days.”
“As do I.” May’s family had stopped sharing holidays with the Waleses when their financial straits became too dire. She found herself wondering how things would be different if her parents hadn’t spent beyond their means. Would she and Maud have become friends sooner?
And where would things stand between her and George? Not that there was anything between them at all…was there?
“We should head back.” The prince gestured to his horse. “You’re welcome to ride, of course, though I doubt you want to?”
“What do you mean?” May asked, and he shrugged.
“Just that you didn’t seem very keen on outdoor sports at Balmoral.”
It was true; May had hated the traditional Balmoral activities.
She’d complained of this in a letter to Agnes, who had replied that May needed to set aside her discomforts and do it all.
You aren’t fishing for salmon; you’re a fisher of men—of a prince!
Despite the sacrilegious nature of the joke, May had smiled in amusement, and gamely rode out with the group once or twice.
But it was hopeless. She just wasn’t built for the outdoors, especially not the wild domain of Scotland.
May nodded. “Yes, I’m more suited to city pursuits than to the country. You seem to enjoy riding, though.”
George gallantly placed her hat atop the pommel of his saddle, then tugged at the reins, leading his mount uphill while May walked alongside him.
“I love riding,” he agreed. “There is something about it that makes me feel braver. Why else do you think men through history have commissioned portraits of themselves on horseback?”
“I thought it was just to make them seem taller. Napoleon being the best example,” May joked, and George chuckled.
“Taller, braver: those are often the same thing. It really is too bad we can’t ride horses into a ballroom; then perhaps I wouldn’t be such a disappointment at parties. Especially to Father,” George added, almost under his breath.
May was startled at the vulnerability of the admission. “I’m sure that’s not true,” she protested.
“He’s not malicious about it. I just know that our relationship would be easier if we had common ground.” George kept his gaze aimed downward, picking his way carefully back up the slope. “I’m sorry. This is hardly a topic for polite conversation.”
“It’s quite all right,” May said quickly.
“You must have no idea what I’m talking about. There’s no way your family could find fault with you.”
It had been clumsily phrased, yet May recognized the statement as a compliment.
She found herself longing to tell George the truth—that she knew all too well what it was like, struggling endlessly for parental approval you would never get.
It was like fumbling around in the dark without knowing what you were looking for, struggling to answer a question you hadn’t been asked.
“I understand more than you might expect. I often fear that I am a source of bafflement to my parents. Even to Dolly,” she admitted.
“Really?”
May decided not to broach the subject of her father. “Like you and the Prince of Wales, my mother and I are…not very similar.”
George nodded, considering this. “And it must be harder on you as her only daughter. At least I have Eddy. Father spends so much time with him that he tends to forget how dissatisfied he is with me.” He tends to forget me altogether was the unspoken subtext.
Yet George still soldiered on, trying to forge his own path forward.
In his quiet, steadfast way, George might be the strongest of them all.
“Sometimes I wish I had a sister.” May wished she could explain why—that she longed for someone with whom she could weather her father’s cruelty.
Someone who could have held her hand, all those nights when Dolly was at school and May huddled at the top of the stairs, listening as her parents shouted at each other in the living room.
Maybe it was better that there wasn’t another Teck girl who had to endure all that. May certainly wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
“At least you’ll have Maud now. I mean—perhaps—now that you’ve grown closer, maybe she can be like a sister to you,” George said clumsily.
Like a sister, or a sister-in-law? May’s heart skipped a little, and she told herself not to read too much into it.
“Of course. I have loved getting to spend more time with Maud,” she hastened to reply.
They were drawing closer to the main ring; May heard the cacophony of horses and shouted greetings up ahead. She cast about for a topic that might delay their return to the group.
“How long will Prince Constantine and the tsarevich be staying with you?”
As she’d hoped, George’s steps slowed. “I’m not sure. Tino should be getting back to Greece soon, preparing for the wedding, but he and Nicholas keep delaying their departure.”
“Of course, the wedding! I’m so glad for Tino and Sophie,” May said automatically.
Everyone had been a bit surprised when the wild, rakish Tino got engaged to quiet Princess Sophie of Prussia. Their upcoming wedding in Athens was the talk of Europe.
George glanced over. “Will you be going?”
“I’m not certain,” May replied evasively.
The Tecks would almost certainly receive an invitation, which May expected her father to decline, grumbling that he didn’t want to be surrounded by his pompous relatives.
The real reason, of course, was the expense.
Traveling to Athens meant train tickets, and renting a house, not to mention new gowns for the wedding itself: all costs that they could ill afford.
“Mother and Father are insisting that we all come.” By we all, George clearly meant his siblings. He smiled shyly as he added, “I hope you’ll be there, too.”
It wasn’t a proposal, or a declaration, but May recognized that George didn’t say such things often. It suddenly felt crucial that she get to that wedding.
“I’ll talk to my parents,” she assured him.
She would find a way, somehow, because she was nothing if not resourceful.
George smiled, then looked up and paused. “That is your companion, is it not?”
May noted with surprise that he was right. Agnes seemed to have followed her example and climbed out of the carriage; she stood with a pair of grooms along the fence that lined Rotten Row, speaking in urgent, rapid tones. The grooms shook their heads and Agnes crossed her arms over her chest.
“I wonder why she’s talking to the coachmen?” George asked, voicing May’s thoughts.
“Agnes?” May called out.
When Agnes saw her, she quickly smiled, then hurried over, holding out her hands palm up in a gesture of puzzled amusement.
“May, I was so worried about you! You ran off and I had no idea where you’d gone! I was asking everyone if they’d seen you,” she explained breathlessly.
What? May wanted to say in confusion. You’re the one who told me to chase after the hat. But Agnes had already turned to George and executed a perfectly elegant curtsy.
“Your Royal Highness, I’m so glad that you went to May’s rescue! What a knight in shining armor!”
George colored and retrieved the hat from atop his saddle, handing it back to May. “It was my pleasure.” Then, with a nod to May, he vaulted back onto his horse and started off.
May waited until he was out of earshot before turning to Agnes. “What were you doing with those coachmen?”
Agnes hesitated for a fraction of an instant, then waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.
“It’s as I said; I was looking for you! You really did a vanishing act, chasing after that hat.
Though it seems it was well worth it,” she added, teasing.
“Now look, here is Jacob!” Agnes waved a gloved hand to hail her family’s driver.
Once Jacob had helped them back into the landau, May balanced her hat on her lap. She felt abuzz with a tentative new feeling that might have been hope.
She had gone after Prince Eddy because he was a means to an end, an escape from the dismal fate of remaining a spinster in her father’s house. Marrying Eddy would have kept her safe: from her father, from a life in debt, from anyone or anything that might hurt her.
But what if she could have it all, security and affection?
As she thought of George, May wondered if she might still end up with a prince…not just because he made her feel safe, but because he made her happy.