Page 121 of Reign
Daphne held her breath, knowing that this was better coming from Jefferson than from her.
When he’d finished, Beatrice glanced around the ballroom with a nearly imperceptible sigh. “I wish you’d figured this out a bit earlier than the day of your wedding. It would have saved us a lot of headache.”
“Two canceled weddings in the span of a year,” Louise chimed in. “No one will come to your next one.”
“I’m happy to do a press conference, if it helps,” Daphne offered.
Beatrice shuddered. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary.” A typical Washington family response, to want to avoid the press at all costs.
Daphne had nothing left to lose anymore, which must have been the reason she argued with the queen. “I know it’s not typical, but the circumstances aren’t typical. If we say nothing, people will interpret our silence in unflattering ways, but if we say something—even just a few remarks—then we’ve set the tone. It’ll be hard for people to accuse us of being unfaithful if we go out there holding hands, as a team, and say that we mutually reached this decision.”
Beatrice’s eyes flashed at Daphne’s hint that one of them, at least, had cheated. “What reason are you going to give for the decision?”
“We don’t need to give them any reason at all. Just keep the announcement short and to the point. ‘The wedding between Prince Jefferson and Daphne Deighton will not take place today. The Washingtons and the Deightons ask for privacy during this difficult time.’ Jefferson will go back to King’s College and take on some more responsibilities for the Crown, maybe some new charity initiatives? And in a few months, he’ll go on some high-profile dates with potential girlfriends. I’ll compile a list,” Daphne added, her mind working at top speed.
Jefferson stiffened next to her. “Wait, what? Did you just say you want to set me up?”
She ignored him. “The tabloids will salivate over the fact that he’s single, debating which of these girls might replace me. They’ll be so focused on Jefferson’s dating life that they won’t even care anymore why our relationship ended. And if they do ask, he and I will only ever speak of each other in themost glowing terms. We’ll say that we were carried away by our youthful passion and moved too fast.”
She felt Louise staring at her. “An interesting plan. It could work,” the French princess remarked.
All eyes turned to Beatrice, who nodded slowly. “We might as well try it. What do you need from us? A plane?”
Daphne nearly sagged in relief. No way did she want to face a commercial airport right now, and get mobbed with photographs. “I’d love to leave the country for a while. A plane would be fantastic.”
“I’ll call Anju.” Beatrice pressed one of her speed-dial buttons and started toward the hallway, Jefferson trailing along after her.
Louise waited a moment before clearing her throat. “Daphne. You and I don’t know each other well.”
It was a funny thing to say, but royals could be odd ducks. “No, Your Royal Highness,” Daphne agreed.
As usual, the French princess looked impossibly chic in a dusky-blue gown that plunged daringly low in the back. But it was her expression that caught Daphne’s interest—an excited, almost mischievous expression. One that Daphne had seen before, when she looked in the mirror.
Louise nodded. “Since we don’t know each other well, this may seem a presumptuous question, but I have to ask. Did you engineer your whole relationship with Prince Jefferson?”
“Excuse me?”
“You have managed your entire life like it’s a business operation, haven’t you? You cultivated favor with the press, made the American people fall in love with you. Your father’s behavior would have ruined most girls’ chances at a royal marriage,” Louise mused. “But not you. You didn’t let his scandal drag you down.”
Were the French always this blunt?
“I’ve gotten very good at handling the media. I had to,”Daphne said carefully. “I understand the tabloids, how they operate, who the major players are.” If anyone could make America believe something, it was Daphne.
Louise smiled, satisfied by this reply. “I need someone like you to help me manage my image. I’m about to do something so shocking, it will make your broken engagement to Jeff look like child’s play.”
Daphne was intrigued in spite of herself. “What?”
“I’m engaged to Alexei. The Prince of Russia,” Louise added, as if Daphne wasn’t perfectly aware which Alexei she meant.
“Oh my god,” Daphne whispered, stunned.
“Come work for me,” Louise urged. “After seeing you in action just now, I realize that you might be just the person I need. Someone who can see all the pieces on the chessboard and how to play them. Someone cunning and insightful and manipulative.”
“You say that like it’s a good thing.” It felt surprising, hearing Louise acknowledge the parts of her that Daphne had always, painstakingly, kept hidden.
The princess waved a hand dismissively. “I am the very first woman to ever rule France, and I’m still only doing it as my father’s Regent. You think I haven’t had to be manipulative? It can be an asset, you know. It all depends on whose mind you’re attempting to sway, and toward what. Come on,” Louise pressed. “Quit wasting your talents trying to become a princess, and come work inrealpolitics.”
For years, Daphne had tried to prove she was special by attaching herself to a special man. But maybe she didn’t need to prove anything at all.
