Playing Dirty(122)

“If you address the person to your right rather than the one to your left, then the whole dinner is rather for nothing.”

“I understand that,” Andrew said. “But a) I have met Princess Alexandra before, and I know what she looks like. And b) the person to my right is Rear-Admiral Tobias Grieg, and I would ask you to give me credit enough to acknowledge that I can tell the difference between a bearded sailor in his late sixties and a Swedish princess. I realize you have a low opinion of me, but this I can do.”

“It’s important, Andrew.”

“I know.”

There was a pause before the Queen spoke again. “Andrew, you are brushing me off again.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Andrew replied. “Look, we’ve met before, so I do know her. We got along well.”

My intake of breath was so sharp that I feared I might be heard, but the speakers were too busy with their own conversation. Were they still talking about the aforementioned Swedish princess? If so, why?

“You do like Princess Alexandra, don’t you?” the Queen said, confirming my suspicion.

“Like I said, we got on very well before. I mean, we were kids back then, but still…”

“That didn’t sound very sure.”

“I like her fine.”

“Nor did that.” The Queen sighed. “I hope you know, Andrew, this is not how I would have preferred it to happen. Your father and I loved each other very much. It was a convenient marriage but it was our choice first and foremost. I would rather you have the same experience.”

“We both know you think I make dumb choices,” he replied.

Oh. My. God.

I knew what this was now. They were discussing a royal marriage…Andrew’s, no less. The Queen was setting him up with this Swedish princess, and Andrew was just calmly responding to her as if it were the most perfectly natural thing in the world.

What the hell?

There was another pause as the Queen seemed to consider something. “Ill-advised choices, perhaps,” she finally said. “But not dumb. I wish this could be your choice, but Princess Alexandra…there was an agreement. And none of us can escape our duties forever.”

“Right.”

“I hope the two of you get along.”

Andrew yawned before replying. “That would make things easier.”

“Quite. You’ve had months to get used to the idea, so I hope it’s all settled into that head of yours.”

Another yawn. “Uh-huh.”

I listened in quiet shock. Shit. He’d known. He’d known that he had to marry someone else; this Princess Alexandra. It didn’t sound as if it was his choice or that he was particularly excited about it, but he’d damn well known, and he was saying nothing to stop it.

In all the time the two of us had spent together, he’d never said a word to me about it.

God, what the hell was wrong with me? How stupid could I have been, thinking there was any real sort of relationship between us, and what more vivid illustration could there be of how little I mattered to him than the conversation I’d just overheard? And why should I have mattered to him, anyway? After all, he was Prince Andrew, Andrew Arlington, heir to the British throne…and I was nobody compared to him.

Absolutely nobody.

I’d been utterly delusional in thinking we’d been anything more than a fling; so blinded by my feelings that I hadn’t realized he was playing me for a fool while he was planning to marry another woman. All those conversations we’d had, all those moments we’d shared…it must’ve all been a lie, and my supposed knowledge that he’d reciprocated my feelings had all been in my head.

I didn’t stay to listen to any more of his conversation with the Queen, and I walked away from the yellow drawing room and headed for home, stopping at a drugstore on the way back. I bought a pregnancy test, and as soon as I got back to my apartment, I ripped it open and headed for the bathroom, my heart numb. Just this morning, I’d been worried about my possible pregnancy, but I’d been happy at the same time….and I’d been utterly deluded in being so pleased. If Andrew knew about this, he’d probably view the pregnancy as an unfortunate accident and nothing more, and I must’ve been crazy to think otherwise.

The pregnancy test instructions said that I had to wait five minutes for the results to show up properly, so I sat on the toilet and waited, my heart hammering like crazy in my chest as my mouth dried up in fear. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl, and I honestly felt as if a thousand years had passed before my watch finally told me that five minutes was up.

I closed my eyes, turned the test over in my hand, and then I opened my eyes again, my breath catching in my throat as I looked down at the little display window.