Majesty (American Royals, #2)(76)
Daphne still hadn’t heard anything from Himari since that single ominous text. True to her promise, Beatrice had appointed the Marikos as the new ambassadors to Japan; Daphne had seen the press announcement the moment it went live. Still, Himari maintained her silence.
Was she really going to move halfway across the world without saying anything at all?
It made Daphne feel oddly hollow, that she was so close to winning Jefferson back at last, and there was no one she could talk about it with. Himari was the only person she had ever really trusted…except for Ethan. And there was no way Daphne could discuss this with him, not when his relationship with Jefferson was the collateral damage she’d left in her wake.
It wasn’t as if Ethan would speak to her right now, anyway.
A momentary hush fell over the restaurant, which could only mean one thing: Jefferson had arrived.
Daphne stood, along with everyone else, as he started toward her. When he reached her table, she ducked into an elegant curtsy. Jefferson waved away the gesture and sat down, and a collective sigh echoed through the room.
“Daphne. Thanks so much for coming,” he said, smiling.
His Revere Guard stationed himself a few yards away, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. He was wearing plainclothes, not that anyone was fooled into thinking he was one of the waitstaff.
“I’m so glad you suggested it,” Daphne murmured. As if she hadn’t been awaiting this very invitation for months now.
She and Jefferson had seen a lot of each other the past few weeks, but always in a big group setting, or at the palace, on the afternoons Daphne met up with Samantha for media training. She and the prince hadn’t really been alone together until tonight.
Daphne hoped she was right about the reason he’d asked her here. But she knew, too, that he needed to work his way around to it. So once they had placed their orders, she looked up with an eager smile.
“You’ll never guess what happened after the Feed Humanity gala,” she began. “Anthony Larsen got on one of those rental scooters and tried to ride it home, wearing his tux! He hit an uneven corner at Durham Street and went flying onto the sidewalk…”
As Daphne spun out the story, Jefferson leaned forward, interrupting with occasional questions and appreciative laughter. A typical youngest child, he’d always hated silences, so Daphne made sure she had an endless supply of anecdotes with which to fill them.
They kept on talking like that, trading bits of gossip and reminiscing about past adventures, until they were nearly finished with their entrées. Finally Jefferson looked down, pressing his fork into his scalloped potatoes.
“You’ve probably noticed that Ethan hasn’t been around a lot lately,” he said hesitantly.
Daphne knew what he wanted to tell her, and why he felt so reluctant. It wasn’t normal to complain about one ex-girlfriend to another.
But she had long ago given Jefferson the right to tell her anything. It was how she kept her hold on him—a hold that cost her, at times, but it was worth it to have his trust. There weren’t many people Jefferson could confide in. That was just part of being a prince.
“I assumed he was busy at college,” she replied. “Why? Did something happen?”
There was a long silence, and then: “He’s dating Nina.”
“Nina, your ex?” Daphne demanded, with admirable disbelief. “Since when?”
“I don’t know. Since the party Sam and I threw, at least.”
Daphne edged her chair closer, her perfect features creased in concern. “Did Ethan tell you?”
“That’s the thing—he wasn’t going to tell me at all! I found out from a reporter. Then, when I confronted Nina about it, she admitted that it was true.”
“A reporter? How did she even get ahold of you?” Daphne bit her tongue at that; she wasn’t supposed to know that the reporter had been a woman.
Jefferson, not noticing the slipup, merely shrugged. “All I know is that she called, asking if I wanted to comment on the fact that my ex-girlfriend had moved on to my best friend. For a second I thought she meant you,” he added, “but you would never do anything like that.”
There was a slight catch in Daphne’s voice as she replied, “Of course not.”
The soft noises of the restaurant flowed around them, low conversations and the clinking of silverware. Daphne saw the other guests stealing glances at her and Jefferson, their eyes bright with curiosity or unadulterated envy.
Like always, the attention was exhilarating. It snapped through her veins like a drug.
“Daph, this isn’t about Nina,” Jefferson said haltingly. “But Ethan has been my best friend since kindergarten. We were in the same peewee baseball league, the same summer camps, the same everything. The minute we both had our licenses, we drove all the way down to New Orleans—my parents were so upset with me—taking turns at the wheel, even though my Guard was in the car, just because we could. We got drunk for the first time together, that night we accidentally had all that port and ended up puking our guts out. God, we almost got tattoos together, except Ethan talked me out of it at the last minute.”
Daphne felt a momentary pang of regret as she realized the full extent of the damage she’d caused. She forced herself not to think about it. I’ll fix it later, she promised herself, once I can afford to.