Beatrice shot to her feet. “We can figure it out together! The League of Kings is over; I have plenty of time now. We can brainstorm your role, fix everything that’s not working…”
Teddy smiled sadly. “This is the kind of thinking that I need to do on my own. I need to figure out what it will mean for me, moving forward, that you only have time for me when your job is on hiatus.”
Beatrice realized that she’d said the wrong thing. She shouldn’t have made it sound like she prioritized the League of Kings above her relationship.
Except—that was the truth, wasn’t it? She wasn’t Samantha, free to renounce her position when things got tough.
She was the queen, and the Crown must always come first.
Teddy picked the duffel bag off the floor and slung it over one shoulder. “I’m just going to clear my head, get some space.”
You just had space, for weeks! Beatrice wanted to cry out. Instead she asked, very quietly, “Where will you go?”
“Nantucket, I think.” Teddy pulled his phone from his pocket and frowned down at the screen. “The jetway is clear. If I leave now, I can be there before noon.”
“But you and me…are we okay?”
Teddy didn’t answer for a long moment. “I think the space will be good for us,” he said at last. “I’ll call you when I get to the Nantucket house.”
She stepped forward—to kiss him, hug him, grab a fistful of his shirt and dig her heels in so that he couldn’t leave—but Teddy put a hand on each of her shoulders. He leaned forward and kissed her once, on the forehead. The way you might kiss a little sister, or a cousin, or a friend.
Beatrice felt too weak to say anything as he turned and headed out the door. She just slumped to the floor, her hand lifted to the place where his lips had been.
Daphne hadn’t left the party. Why should she? She wasn’t the one who’d faked an entire friendship, then kissed her so-called friend’s boyfriend.
Nina and Jefferson were both avoiding her; Daphne could tell from the deliberate way they were looking anywhere but at her. She just tipped her chin up and ignored them. As long as Jefferson hadn’t broken up with her or asked her to leave, she still had a fighting chance. She could still make Nina pay for what she’d done.
She’d been weak, and Nina had taken advantage of that weakness, but Daphne wouldn’t make the same mistake a second time. She knew better now than to trust anything Nina told her.
Daphne was standing out on the terrace, the tattered remnants of the party swirling around her, when Jefferson approached.
“Daphne. Hey.”
“Jefferson.” She smiled as if nothing was wrong, as if she hadn’t sold photos to the media or seen him kissing Nina. “Are you having a fun night?”
He ignored her breezy tone. “We need to talk.”
Those four words had never preceded anything good.
“I—of course.” Daphne felt her smile slip as they headed through the double doors.
Already the ballroom looked tired. The magic of an evening like this never really lasted, did it? The dance floor looked scuffed, and half-empty bottles of champagne were sweating on the bar. Even the figures in the marble statues seemed exhausted, as if they longed to close their eyes and take a quick nap.
Daphne felt a brief stab of hope, because Jefferson surely wouldn’t break up with her here in the ballroom, but then he ushered her down the hallway and deeper into the palace, to a sitting room she’d never seen before. An ugly watercolor hung on the wall, so ugly that Daphne suspected a relative must have painted it.
“Daphne, you know how much I care about you.”
He’d said care about you, not love you. Daphne tried not to panic.
“Things between us have gotten weird lately,” he went on, and Daphne cut in.
“I know, and I’m sorry! It’s my fault. I should never have betrayed your trust like that.”
“You did, though,” he said bluntly. “Maybe it’s this situation with your family’s title, which I’m really sorry about. But you’ve been acting strange for a while. It makes me wonder if we’re a good fit anymore, or if we’ve maybe…drifted apart.”
Drifted apart? More like he drifted into Nina and decided he was through with Daphne. Again.
Daphne was grateful that she’d seen Nina and Jefferson earlier, had already let the hurt storm violently through her, then ebb. Staring at Jefferson now, all she felt was a cold determination not to lose him.
She refused to let Nina and Gabriella win.
What could she do—throw a fit, burst into tears, and accuse him of cheating? Jefferson might stay here and comfort her for a while, but he wouldn’t take her back. Maybe she could tell him that Nina had betrayed her, pretended to be her friend and sold her out to Gabriella. Except that he was so starry-eyed when it came to Nina, and Daphne didn’t exactly want to remind him of Gabriella, and of the photos she’d sold.
She shuffled through every bit of gossip she knew, every last secret she’d accumulated during her years at court, but none of them would make Jefferson stay if he really wanted to leave her. Daphne knew how to gently steer him in one direction when he was torn—she’d been doing it for years—but she wasn’t powerful enough to force him into something he didn’t want to do. No one could do that, except his family.
Then it hit her, in a terrible, deadly flash of inspiration. The one way she could keep hold of Jefferson, now that all else had failed.
Some lingering sliver of conscience, left over from her fake friendship with Nina, reared its head for a moment. Could she really go through with this? Wasn’t she going too far?
If her mother were here, she would say that nothing was too far, no sacrifice too great. Not for the good of their family. If Daphne had to journey to the gates of hell itself to get rid of Nina and win Jefferson back, Rebecca would send her on her way and wish her luck.
At the thought of Nina, Daphne’s resolve hardened. She wasn’t doing anything worse than what Nina had done to her—twisting someone’s emotions for her own purposes. Lying to someone she ostensibly cared about.
“You’re right. I have been acting weird.”
It wasn’t hard for Daphne to start crying. She was on edge, and afraid, risking her entire future on one last gamble. She would be staking everything on this hand, and if it failed…
She couldn’t let herself think about that. If she didn’t look the possibility of failure in the eye, then she could keep outrunning it.
“Daphne, it’s okay.” Jefferson put a hand on her shoulder, patting her awkwardly, and Daphne sobbed all the harder.