Page 135 of Reign
It would mean a lot of staff, and private lines, and top-secret documents that neither monarch could share with the other. But the biggest obstacle was that each country needed to approve the marriage in a national referendum. Which meant that Daphne was managing the biggest royal PR campaign of all time, selling Louise and Alexei’s romance to the world as an epic, impossible, sweeping love story.
So far the French were polling in support of their princess, which wasn’t all that surprising; the French had always been sentimental. Daphne was having a harder time winning over the Russians. But she knew she could get there, in the end—and told everyone so.
Perhaps that was the best thing about this job: she no longer had to hide just how smart she was.
At home she had always downplayed her intelligence. All her life she’d been told she was beautiful; small wonder that she’d thought the pinnacle of her achievement was trading on those looks to climb higher in the world.
Trying to become a princess, Daphne realized now, hadbeen too small a dream. It was a role that hinged entirely on her relationship to someoneelse.
For the first time in her life Daphne was free: of her mother’s ambition, of the constraining persona she had built, of the demands of being a princess. She was free to be anything she wanted.
Who knew where her path would lead. Maybe she and Ethan would end up together, or maybe not. She might become an ambassadress or a congresswoman or the CEO of a company. Whatever she did, she was going to do it on her own merit, without manipulation or scheming.
Well…maybe with alittlebit of scheming.
NINA
“The only work we haven’t discussed in detail isLady Susan.” Dr.Lytton leaned back in her overstuffed chair. “What do you make of Blalock’s assertion that Susan is just another figure in the British villainess tradition, à la Lady Macbeth?”
“I actually think thatLady Susanwas more inspired by non-English works. LikeLes liaisons dangereuses,” Nina argued, stumbling over the French pronunciation.
Dr.Lytton lifted her eyebrows. They were in her office, which was a study in cozy chaos, with books on every single surface, stacked so perilously high that Nina always feared they might topple. Sunlight streamed through the windows that overlooked the quadrangle, dappling shadows over Nina’s spiral notebook.
Nina loved Oxford. She loved the creak of the staircase that led to this office, the treads warped from centuries of scholarly footsteps. She loved the city, with its winding cobblestone paths and quaint bakeries, a place that hadremained seemingly untouched by the passing of time. It had been freezing when she arrived, and as she’d wandered the snowy, fairy-tale campus, she’d wrapped Jamie’s scarf tighter around her neck and thought how lucky she was to be here.
That was months ago. Now it was summer, and she’d traded her snow boots and scarf for sundresses that became damp with sweat in the June heat. The semester had ended weeks ago, but Dr.Lytton—Nina’s tutorial professor—had offered her a job as a research assistant, and Nina had jumped at the chance to stay.
“An interesting suggestion,” Dr.Lytton replied. “But as we know, Jane didn’t speak French, and the English translation ofLes liaisons dangereuseswasn’t in wide circulation yet.”
Nina nodded. She loved how the professor always referred to the novelist asJane,in a warm, casual tone that seemed to suggest they were old friends, all three of them.
“Still, it’s worth checking on. I don’t know if anyone has made the connection to Laclos before.” She nodded, reaching a decision. “Nina, why don’t you pop down to London tomorrow and visit the British Museum archives? They have the records of all the nineteenth-century publishers. You can let me know if Jane might’ve had access to the translation.”
“Of course. I’ll check circulation in Hampshire, and I’ll do some reading of Jane’s friends’ diaries as well. Maybe one of them references it somewhere?”
The clock in the tower struck twelve, its chimes long and mournful-sounding. “I think that’s enough for today,” Dr.Lytton declared, shutting her notebook with a smile. “Why don’t you go enjoy the afternoon.”
As Nina clattered down the staircase, she accidentally hit the Play button on her phone, and it resumed the song she’d been listening to before her meeting. It was something Sam had sent her: a new single released by Liam’s band, which Sam insisted was about her, though the lyrics never mentionedher by name. Already it had skyrocketed to become the most downloaded new song of the week.
Nina paused the song and typed out a quick text:You might appreciate this: I’m building an argument comparing Les liaisons dangereuses to Lady Susan.
Daphne’s answer was immediate.GENIUS. I totally get it.
Nina couldn’t help chuckling. Two characters who were both manipulative and devious? Of course Daphne saw the connection.
Her phone buzzed with Daphne’s next message.So, in Provence, should we do a day of biking or go to Van Gogh’s house?
Can we bike TO Van Gogh’s house?Nina typed back.
Hang on, I’ll check.Then, a few moments later:Louise’s people will set it up with a private guide.
We don’t need a private guide,Nina started to reply, though she knew it was no use. Daphne never could resist a royal perk. At least now she came by them honestly.
Part of her still couldn’t believe that she and Daphne were spending a wholeweekendtogether. She hadn’t told anyone back home, not Rachel or Sam or her parents; they wouldn’t understand. After everything that had happened between her and Daphne, Nina should hate her, or at least want to avoid her. And yet…she didn’t.
It had started a few months ago. Out of the blue, Daphne had sent Nina a text saying that she was heading to London on some diplomatic business, and was there any chance Nina could make time for her?
They had met at a small, unassuming pizza place with checkered tablecloths, not the type of trendy restaurant that Nina had expected Daphne to suggest. To Nina’s surprise, they talked for hours: about Daphne’s new job and Nina’s semester abroad. Nina had laughed so hard at the news of Gabriella Madison and Prince Juan Carlos, she’d gotten a stitch in her side.
