“Are you certain?” Doubt shaded the prince's handsome face. “Perhaps I should stay here so that I might be of assistance, should the ice not be as sound as it appears.”
“Oh, but until you get to the very middle,” Beryl said quickly, “the water scarcely comes up to your waist. Even if Grayson fell through, he would barely be more than inconvenienced.”
Gray raised a brow. “ âInconvenienced'?”
“No more than that.” Beryl shrugged. “It's entirely too shallow to drown. Certainly, you would be wet and cold. It would be most uncomfortable, but not fatal. Besides, I am here to assist you.”
Gray eyed her skeptically. “You'll pull me out of the water?”
“No, Cousin, dear.” Beryl grinned. “I shall fetch help.”
“That is a relief,” he said wryly.
“Then I shall leave you in capable hands and check the ice elsewhere.” Pruzinsky nodded and started around the pond.
Gray took a few more cautious steps forward.
“Goodness, Grayson,” Beryl called, “you can tell just by the color of it that the pond is suitable for skating.” She joined him on the ice.
“I'm trying to make certain,” he said in a lofty manner.
“You're trying to make a good show of it.” She sniffed. “I know your main purpose in taking this endless walk in this dreadful weather was to find out what you could about Pruzinsky.”
“And I thought I was simply being helpful by occupying his time and keeping him away from the âfamily.' ”
“You can do both.” She glanced at Pruzinsky. “He can't hear us now.” Nonetheless, she lowered her voice. “He's not who he says he is, is he?”
He studied her. “Have you heard from your investigators?”
“Not yet, but I did some investigating of my own. In the library.” A hard note sounded in her voice. “There is no Kingdom of Avalonia, Greater or otherwise.”
“I know.”
She frowned in suspicion. “How do you know?”
He thought it wise not to mention how long he had known and that he had not shared that information with her. “Apparently, I had the same thought. I was in the library this morning.”
“I wish Camille had shared our thoughts. She is not a stupid woman yet this . . .
him
. . .” Beryl blew a frustrated breath. “She was obviously swept away by charm and his dashing good looks and her own desires.”
“What do you think he wants?”
“Money, of course. Camille's husband left her a considerable fortune. The nerve of the man.” She huffed. “Admittedly, I have never been opposed to those who wish to better themselves by marriage. And Lord knows I have no difficulty with marrying for money.”
“Not that I've heard.”
“Nor am I the most, oh, aboveboard personâ”
He snorted.
She ignored him. “When it comes to getting something that I want, I have never had a particular problem with a bit of deception. And if Camille and this man had fallen in love, even if he is penniless, I would not oppose such a marriage. However”âshe studied Pruzinskyâ“I do not wish to see my sister shackled for the rest of her life to a man who has led her to believe he is something he is not. A man who has deceived and tricked her.”
He chose his words with care. “And yet she is deceiving him about her family.”
“That's an entirely different thing.” She waved off his comment. “It's an innocent deception, really. Intended to provide that bounder with the kind of Christmas he has told her he desires. Why, the man is using Christmas to get what he wants. Is there anything more despicable than employing Christmas to perpetrate a fraud?”
He resisted the urge to point out the irony. “Not to my knowledge.”
“I know what you're thinking, Grayson, that Camille was doing much the same thing. But her deception was in the nature of . . . of . . . a good deed. Yes, that's what it was.” She nodded. “Why, in many ways, it's not merely thoughtful, but it's rather noble of her.”
“ âNoble' is not the word I'd use.”
“No one cares about the word you would use,” Beryl said sharply. “My sister has a good heart. And she never would have married him without telling him the truth about her masquerade.”
“No doubt.” He blew a long breath. Telling Camille the truth would not be easy, but it had to be done. “When do we tell her about Pruzinsky?”
“We don't,” she said simply.
“She should be told, as soon as possible.”
She cast him a pitying look. “You're really rather a stupid man, after all. I can't imagine how you managed to make all that money.”
He clenched his jaw. “Why aren't we telling her about Pruzinsky?”
She stared at him in disbelief. “No one wants to be told they've been made a fool of. And in such a grand manner. She would hate us. You more than me, but she wouldn't be pleased with me either. And we really don't have any real evidence yet, do we?”
“He talks about becoming king of a country that doesn't exist.”
“Yes, but he's obviously a clever devil, and such talk can be explained away. Even if we told her what we know, there is every possibility she wouldn't believe us at first and might do something rash. She has yet to conquer her own nature when it comes to surrendering to impulse. No, she must come to this realization on her own. And we have to let this drama play out.”
“ âPlay out'?” He stared. “She could marry him.”
“Nonsense.” She scoffed. “The plan was for him to be called away the day after Christmas.”
“The monetary crisis.” He grimaced.
She nodded. “And she was to go with him.”
“We can't allow that.”
“And we won't, if it gets that far, and I'm hoping it doesn't.”
“Mr. Elliott,” Pruzinsky called from the opposite shore, “it looks safe. Shall I try to walk across?”
“Excellent idea!” Grayson yelled back.
“Oh, do be careful, Count,” Beryl called, then lowered her voice. “I should hate to get my skirts wet fishing you out, although an unfortunate accidentâ”
“Beryl!”
“I was just thinking aloud. I would never . . .” She paused. “Well, probably never resort to unfortunate accidents.”
“Imagine my relief.”
She ignored him. “Before we came up with the idea of calling him home, Camille had already planned to accompany him back to his country. I would be willing to wager, the countâand I am fairly certain he is neither a count nor is his name Pruzinskyâ”
“It was the family name of the last rulers of Avalonia.”
“I know that. Apparently, I read the same book you did.” She rolled her gaze heavenward. “As I was saying, I suspect he never had any intention of allowing that to happen.”
“As he has no country to take her to.”
“Exactly.” Beryl nodded. “So, as Camille was giving him the perfect Christmas and expecting him to propose, I would imagine his plan was similar. A quick marriage and some reason as to why they couldn't return to his country.”
“Perhaps because it's been annexed by Russia and his family thrown out?”
“Very good, Grayson. A half-truth is always more believable than an outright lie.”
“And who would know better than you?”
“Exactly.” It was a measure of her concern for Camille that Beryl didn't bite off his head. Her gaze strayed back to Pruzinsky. “Whoever he is, he is clearly intelligent enough to have come up with this scheme, employing a country that no longer exists and the proper name to go along with it. I wouldn't have been the least bit suspicious if not for his lack of royal demeanor. No accoutrements, indeed.” She huffed in disdain. “No, he is clever and we cannot underestimate him. If he knows we are the least bit suspicious, he might well seek to elope with her.”
Gray crossed his arms over his chest and glared. “If we're not going to tell her, then what do you propose we do?”
“I don't know,” she snapped. “But I do know my sister. Soon I suspectâand this is a point I have already made to her, I might addâshe will begin to wonder why she is going to all this trouble for any man. Even a prince. Then she will realize she can't possibly spend the rest of her life with a man she cannot be honest with. If nothing else, we have always been honest with the men we married.” She nodded slowly. “In the meantime, we must keep a close watch on Camille.”
“And what about Pruzinsky? Shouldn't we be watching him as well?”
“It doesn't matter what he does, as long as he doesn't do it with my sister.” Her eyes narrowed in thought. “She's been somewhat frantic trying to manage the actors and put together her perfect Mr. Dickens's Christmas. The busier she is, the more likely she is to come to her senses about why she is doing it. Perhaps . . .”
“What?”
“Well, all in all, aside from a few conversational faux pas, things ran smoothly yesterday andâas Camille has every minute of today plannedâtoday might be uneventful as well.”
“And?”
“And while this farce of hers is fraught with the possibility of disaster, we cannot count on that.”
“I'm afraid I don't seeâ”
“Goodness, Grayson, aren't you listening?” She sighed the way one might when dealing with a very young child. Or an idiot. “If things run smoothly, she won't be as busy. If she isn't busy juggling this enterprise every moment, she won't think in terms of why she is doing something so absurd and so difficult and instead spend more time with whoever-he-is. And even you must admit the man is practically irresistible.”
“Aside from all that smiling and nodding.”
“In truth, that was a nice touch.” She watched Pruzinsky inching his way across the pond. “We need to make certain the Christmas pageant at Millworth Manor does not go well. Chaos, Grayson, would be most helpful.” She glanced at Gray. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“In horror, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“It seems you and I think in much the same way.”
She shuddered. “That is horrible.”
“For us both. However, if you want chaos . . .” He smiled slowly. “I have just the thing.”
“I like the wicked tone in your voice. You might well be smarter than I thought.” She watched Pruzinsky approach. “He hasn't seduced her yet, or she hasn't seduced him. Regardless, it hasn't happened. That would make his betrayal so much worse.” She shook her head. “Trust me on this point.”
“Oh?”
“It's a long and sordid story, Grayson. One you shall never hear.”
“What a shame.” He chuckled. “It sounds so interesting.”
“Oh, it's definitely interesting.” She tried and failed to hide a wry smile. “Don't think because we are now allies to save Camille that we are friends as well.”
“I would never think that.”
“Good, because we aren't. I still don't trust you. But I am confident that you don't wish to see her hurt or seduced or, God forbid, married to this charlatan.”
“I will not allow that to happen.” His jaw tightened. “You may trust in that.”
“Because you still love her?”
“Because I . . .” His gaze jerked to hers. “Why do you say that?”
“Oh, I don't know, Grayson.” Sarcasm dripped from her words. “Let me think. You're home for the first time in eleven years, and instead of being with your family, you're pretending to be a member of ours. There are other signs as well, which I don't think she has noticed, but are obvious to me. I would list them for you, but as the âcount' will be with us in another minute or so, that shall have to wait.” She adopted a brilliant smile and waved gaily at Pruzinsky.
“That's not all you and I need to talk about,” he said in a hard tone. “I want to know what you meant when you said I had broken her heart.”
Beryl's eyes widened with disbelief. “You mean that, don't you? You really don't know?”
“Know what?” he ground out through clenched teeth.
“I take back anything I said about you being smarter than you look. Apparently, you are not.” She moved away to greet Pruzinsky.
It struck him that winning Camille's heart meant Beryl would be his sister. For the rest of his life. He thrust the thought aside. Camille was worth it.
Beryl kept the count busy on the walk back expounding on life in Avalonia. Every now and then, he noticed the muscles of her jaw twitch, as if she was grinding her teeth, or fighting the urge to say something or maybe smack him. Still, of all the actors in her sister's Christmas farce, he had to admit Beryl might well be the best. It would have been most amusing if not for the stakes involved: Camille's fortune, Camille's heart and the rest of her life.