Page 108 of American Royals
“He won’t approve of me,” Connor said quietly. “Neither will America. Look how much they freaked out about Jeff and Nina, and he’s not even the heir. They’ll never accept their future queen dating her bodyguard.”
“If they really feel that way, then maybe I don’t want to be their queen.”
Connor gave an exasperated huff. “Don’t be flippant.”
Beatrice stepped forward, folding her body into his. After a moment, Connor let his arms loop over her and pulled her closer. She pressed her face against his chest, inhaling the familiar warm scent of him. The whole world felt suddenly lighter.
“I already lost you once. I can’t bear to lose you again,” she murmured. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, or how people will react, but we’ll figure something out. Whatever it is, we’ll do it together.”
A clock chimed in the hallway. Beatrice wondered, suddenly, how late it was. All those viscounts and barons were probably still lined up to congratulate her for an engagement she had every intention of breaking before the night was over.
“I’m sure they’re looking for you,” Connor said, as if reading her mind. He grinned. “The sooner you go, the sooner you can take that ring off your finger.”
Beatrice took a step toward the door and hesitated, torn. She hated the thought of walking away from Connor so soon, when she’d only just gotten him back. “Would you come with me? You could get in uniform, tell everyone you’re assigned to me again.”
“No offense, but I’m not going anywhere near that party,” Connor said wryly.
“None taken.”
“I’ll be here for you when it’s over,” he assured her. “And, Bee—good luck with your dad.”
“Thank you.” She rose on tiptoe to brush her lips against Connor’s one more time.
As she started back down the hallway, the princess straightened her rumpled dress, tucked back a piece of hair that had come loose from her bun. Her eyes were very bright, her lips a vivid pink. And she was smiling to herself, a secret flickering smile that made her seem to glow from within.
She looked, to everyone who saw her, like a young woman in love.
NINA
Nina was in the first-floor ladies’ room when she heard the group of girls walk in. Their heels clicked in unison over the floor, their voices lilting and conspiratorial.
“Did you see what she’s wearing? She sure upgraded fast, once she got hold of the prince’s money.”
“You really think he bought her that gown?”
“Her mom sure didn’t, on a government salary.”
Nina froze.
“I heard that she’s so desperate for cash, she’s been selling photos of herself to the tabloids.”
A snort of disapproval. “You’d think she would have more style, having grown up around the palace.”
“Come on, Josephine, you know you can’t buy class if you weren’t born with it.” There was a chorus of snide giggles at that.
I dare them to say those things to my face, Nina thought, and swept furiously out of the bathroom stall. Her gown rattled with crystal beads like hail on pavement.
The trio of girls had clustered before the sink, which was made of an enormous slab of backlit pink quartz, its faucets shaped like swans’ necks. Nina washed her hands, coolly ignoring the others. They exchanged a glance among themselves before fleeing the bathroom in a voluminous rustle of skirts.
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?”
