She refused to let their small-mindedness ruin her night, and yet … Nina swallowed. When it was just her and Jeff, everything felt so simple. But at times like this, the rest of the world came rushing back, in all its sordid ugliness.
Daphne Deighton chose that moment to walk into the bathroom. She looked resplendent in a delicate champagne-colored gown.
“Nina.” Her gaze prickled on Nina’s in the mirror. “You look amazing. It’s too bad about the whole miscommunication at Halo, of course, but that gown is divine.”
She was smiling as always, yet Nina had the sense of something hard and unyielding beneath the superficial warmth of her voice.
“Thanks,” she said cautiously. Then the full import of Daphne’s words hit her, and she paused. “How did you know about the mix-up at Halo?”
Daphne’s self-control flickered, so quickly that Nina wouldn’t have even noticed if she hadn’t been watching for it. “Damien told me, of course. He felt terrible about the whole thing. I’m so glad it worked out!”
Nina could have nodded and left it there, but a suspicion had ignited in her mind, and she needed to know.
“Daphne,” she said carefully, “are you the one who canceled my gown order?”
She expected Daphne to flat-out deny it. But to her surprise, the other girl spun on one heel and marched up and down the row of stalls, pushing on each door to make sure that they were empty.
Nina watched, speechless, as she returned to the entrance of the ladies’ room and bolted the main door.
When Daphne turned, all trace of a smile had been wiped from her perfect features—as if a mask had dropped, and now Nina was finally seeing her for real.
“It was me,” Daphne said simply. “It was all me, everything that’s happened to you since you first got involved with Jefferson. I gave the paparazzi your dorm address and helped them find incriminating photos of you. I planted the story in the tabloids. I called the boutique, pretending to be you, and canceled your gown order.”
Nina blinked. She felt oddly caught off guard by the bluntness of Daphne’s confession. “You did all that, just to try to get Jeff back?”
“‘All that’?” Daphne smiled, a sharp glittering smile that matched the light in her bottle-green eyes. “Nina, I’m just getting started.”
Nina stumbled backward. “You’re insane,” she said hotly. What had she been thinking, letting Daphne lock them in a bathroom together?
“I really do think you’re a nice girl, so I’m going to give you some free advice. You need to end things now, before you end up hurt. You will never make it in the Washington family, not with your kind of background.”
“My kind of background?” Nina spluttered. “For your information, the king and queen have always liked me.”
“As Samantha’s best friend, as the daughter of one of their employees, sure. As the girlfriend of their only son? I don’t think so.”
“My mom is a Cabinet minister, not a chambermaid,” Nina said quietly. “And I’m sorry, what about your background makes you better qualified, the fact that your dad is a lord?”
“A baronet,” Daphne corrected crisply, “and yes. Unlike you, I have been training for this job my entire life. Because it is a job.”
“I don’t—”
“Do you know who to call Your Serene Highness and Your Imperial Highness as opposed to Your Royal Highness? Can you identify the heir to the throne in every country—the Prince of Wales and the Princess of Asturias and the French dauphin? Do you know the lineage of each of the thirteen sovereign duchies? How do you properly address a federal judge or a member of Congress?” Daphne paused from her monologue to take a breath. “You have no idea what it takes to be the prince’s girlfriend.”
Nina couldn’t believe the bizarre list of job requirements Daphne had just rattled off. “Whatever your relationship with Jeff was like, ours is different. He doesn’t care about those things.”
“Your relationship with Jefferson is never just you. It’s a public position. You are living in a goldfish bowl—constantly on display, and on trial.”
Nina shook her head, though Daphne’s words were eerily similar to what she said to Jeff not that long ago. Daphne saw that sliver of hesitation and pounced on it.
“The king and queen will never give Jefferson permission to marry you,” she went on. “Never.”
“Who said anything about marriage? We’re eighteen!”
“Ah. I see.” Daphne had the feline, self-satisfied look of someone who was very protective of her territory. “You’re just messing around with him until he finds someone serious. Good. In that case, you won’t be disappointed when it ends. Because there is no way you and the prince can ever have a future together, Nina. You’re skating on melting ice. He might be into you now, but it’s only a matter of time.”
“A matter of time before what?”
Daphne lifted one shoulder in a sinuous shrug. “Before he realizes that you aren’t long-term material.”
Nina hadn’t even thought of marriage—but now she couldn’t help wondering if Daphne might be right. If she couldn’t see herself ever getting serious with Jeff, what was the point of letting herself fall for him, and eventually being hurt?