“Yes, I suppose.” She had never thought of Delilah's position in that manner before.
“Although . . . this is a perfect example. This is your scheme, but Beryl is right by your side. You never considered Delilah might wish to be part of it.”
Camille bristled. “She would
never
wish that. She is entirely too proper for something like this.” Admittedly, she had never been asked. “Besides, she was out of the country with Mother, who, I might add, asked Delilah to accompany her, not Beryl or me.”
“As I said, it was just an observation.”
Still, she had never considered why Delilah might behave toward her sisters as she did. Why, it had never even crossed her mind that her younger sister might feel left out. And in Delilah's shoes, wouldn't Camille feel the same? She winced. “I haven't been very nice to her, have I?”
He shook his head. “I couldn't say.”
“Well, I haven't. Or, rather, we haven't. We never considered that she might feel overlooked. We thought she didn't like us.”
“I can't imagine she's overly fond of you.”
“No, she's not. And it now appears, we deserve it.” She sighed. “This is the second time today I've felt ashamed of my behavior.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don't especially like it.”
“It's most becoming,” he said in a teasing manner.
“Only you would say such a thing.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Obviously, Iâwell, Beryl and Iâ should make amends in some manner. I would much prefer to spend the rest of my life with a younger sister who does not detest meâalthough I doubt it will be easy.” She shook her head. “This rift has been years in the making.”
“Making amends is never easy.” He met her gaze directly. “Apologies for one's mistakesâthose errors in judgment that we all make because of youth or selfishness or prideâare often difficult. Particularly when one realizes one's own behavior was unreasonable and even stupid.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Are we still talking about Delilah?”
“I don't know.” He stepped closer; his gaze still locked with hers. “Are we?”
“I know I agreed that you and I should talk about what passed between us all those years ago, but not now, Grayson, please.” The last thing she needed tonight was a discussion of the pastâespecially since she was not the least bit certain how she felt about anything, about him, now. It was all most confusing. “I simply cannot dredge up the past when the present is in such chaos.”
“It can wait.” He smiled. “I'm not going anywhere.”
“This time,” she said without thinking.
He nodded.
She stared at him for a long moment. “Thank you. For your assistance tonight,” she added quickly. “I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help.”
“It's the least I can do.” He looked as though he wanted to say something else, then thought better of it. Instead, he offered his arm. “Shall we join the others?”
“Before it's too late, you mean?”
He laughed and she took his arm, hard and solid beneath her touch. The arm of a man one could depend on. A man who could be relied upon when needed. Not that it mattered at the moment. Still, it was something to keep in mind. “Who knows what might be happening without us?”
“Who knows, indeed?” He glanced down at her. “In spite of the unexpected difficulties you've encountered thus far, I suspect you will somehow manage to triumph in the end.”
“Goodness, Grayson, at this point I no longer care about victory.” She cast him a rueful smile. “I am just hoping for survival.”
Seventeen
C
amille had planned games for this evening, but no one seemed interested at the moment in anything more than conversation and brandy. It struck her that everyone was somewhat subdued tonight, apparently worn out by the day's activities. Except perhaps for her mother.
Camille surveyed the gathering in the parlor. Mother flirted with Nikolai in a manner that might have been excessiveâhad she been anyone else's motherâbut for her was simply her nature. Miss Murdock more than matched her in spirit and enthusiasm. Whereas the young actress's penchant for flirtation had been annoying at first, now Camille appreciated her steadfast determination. Nikolai certainly seemed to enjoy it. Grayson chatted with Mrs. Montgomery-Wells and Mr. Henderson while trying, as well, to charm, if not outright flirt with, Delilah. Indeed, her younger sister did appear to be reluctantly enjoying herself.
Beside her, Beryl, too, studied the group. “I must say, even with our surprise arrivals, it's all goingâ”
“Don't say it!” Camille grabbed her arm. “Whatever you do, do not say it.”
Beryl stared in confusion. “Don't say what?”
Camille grimaced. “Obviously, I can't say, but you know what I mean.”
“I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about.” Beryl's brows furrowed. “All I was going to say wasâ”
“Stop.” Camille shook her head. “If you say it's going well, it won't. Such a declaration is like a curse. So I would be most appreciative if you kept any such observation to yourself.”
“Very well.” Beryl thought for a moment. “May I say it's going poorly then? That this house of cards you've built is likely to collapse at any moment, bringing it all down around your head? May I further add that I told you so?”
“No. But I do appreciate how difficult it is for you to restrain yourself.”
“Oh, I'm certain the opportunity will yet be presented.” Beryl studied her. “I have never known you to be superstitious before.”
“I am clinging to any advantage that might avail itself at the moment, including superstition.” Her gaze settled on her younger sister. “And you and I need to do something about Delilah.”
“My thoughts exactly. What did you have in mind? Lock her in the attic? As we did when she was a child?”
“We're not proud of that, it was dreadful of us. And we will certainly not do it now or ever again.” She glanced at her twin. “We need to be nicer to her.”
“Why?”
“Because she is our sister, our only sister, and we have treated her abominably.”
“No worse than she's treated us.”
“Perhaps, but . . .” Camille searched for the right words. “It has been brought to my attention that it's entirely possible that Delilah might behave the way she does toward us because we have not included her in our lives.”
“And?”
“And we should,” Camille said firmly. “We should make more of an effort to see her.”
“We went to her wedding. And her husband's funeral.”
“We need to see her when it's not a wedding or a funeral or a family occasion that we are required to attend. We should invite her to join us at the Ladies Tearoom when we meet there, or when we attend gallery openings or lectures or museum exhibits.”
Beryl stared. “Why?”
“Because we should, that's why. We have never made an effort to include her or really even get to know her better. Why, she's practically a stranger.”
“No doubt because we were grown and had our own lives before she was of an age to be interesting. Not that she is now.”
“Nonsense. I'm certain she is quite interesting. And, as I said, she is the only sister we have, and we should treat her as such.”
“I still don't see. . . .” Beryl's eyes widened. “Oh, now I understand.” She cast Camille an admiring look. “How very clever of you.”
“What is very clever of me?”
“If we befriend our dear younger sister, she will be much more inclined to embrace your deception.” Beryl's gaze shifted to Delilah. “As it is, she looks as if she has eaten something that has disagreed with her.”
“I think she looks like she is enjoying herself, albeit reluctantly.” Delilah laughed at something Grayson said and Camille's stomach lurched. She ignored it. “Thankfully, Grayson is making an effort to entertain her.”
Beryl raised a brow. “Jealous?”
“Don't be absurd,” she said coolly. “He is simply trying to be helpful. And I am most grateful.”
“Don't be too grateful,” Beryl warned. “Don't forget what heâ”
“I won't.” Camille's tone was sharper than she had intended. “I have not forgotten anything, nor do I intend to. He is simply doing what he said he would do. He is being my friend.”
“Well, I still don't trust him.”
“Beryl, dear.” She smiled. “You don't have to.”
Beryl considered her for a moment, then sighed. “Good Lord.”
“What?”
“Nothing. No indeed. Not a thing.” She shook her head. “Well, I should rescue Mother, or perhaps Nikolaiânot that they look like they need rescuing. But it is my turn to flirt with the prince.” She squared her shoulders. “Not a bad way to spend the evening, really. He is most enjoyable to look at, and I do love his accent. All that smiling and nodding does tend to wear on one, however.”
Camille laughed. “Your sacrifice is most appreciated. And I shall begin making amends with our sister.”
“You're such a better person than I am.”
“Someone has to be.”
Beryl took a step, then turned back to her sister. “Where did you get this idea? About Delilah, that is?”
“Grayson mentioned it,” she said in an offhand manner.
“Yes, he would, wouldn't he?” Beryl said under her breath, smiled halfheartedly and crossed the room to join Nikolai and the ladies.
What on earth did she mean by that? Her gaze settled on Grayson and Delilah. One couldn't fault him for being observant. Or for being a genuinely nice person. And he was truly trying to provide his assistance. Oh, certainly he had arranged for the influx of
orphans,
and that did lead one to wonder if he was trying to help or hinder her efforts. Regardless, it could have been nothing more than a stupid mistake on his part. Thinking orphans would add to the farceâhow utterly absurd. But he hadn't shirked responsibility when she had handed over the boys to him. In truth, he had behaved exactly as the doting uncle he was supposed to be. Indeed, if he hadn't seemed to be enjoying the children quite so much, Camille would have considered him the best actor in the cast.
Except for Camille herself, of course. All evening she had walked a fine line with Nikolai between friendly flirtation and obvious avoidance. It was not at all easy and now her head ached from the effort. Once again, she sent silent thanks in Miss Murdock's direction. The young actress did an excellent job of monopolizing Nikolai's attentions.
Still, while she refused to let herself believe all was going well, there was nothing at all dangerous about counting the days until Christmas. In that, she was like the children asleep in the nursery.
It did seem that Christmas would never come.
Â
All in all, it was an interesting evening and relatively uneventful, if one discounted the arrival of the real Ladies Briston and Hargate. Gray resisted the urge to chuckle. That was one development Camille had not counted on. Still, she handled it well enoughâwith his help, of course. He wasn't about to let this farce of hers be her undoing.
He poured himself a brandy and watched Camille chat with her younger sister and her fraudulent family members. It looked as though she had taken his comments about Delilah to heart. In spite of his absence for all these years, the rift between the sisters was obvious. As well as a shame. His uncle had told him that he and Gray's father had once suffered an estrangement of sorts, and he was eternally grateful they'd settled their differences before his brother's death. It was a lesson that had stayed with Gray: One never knew how much time one had to make amends. His gaze lingered on Camille. Pity it had taken him so long to realize that lesson applied to him as well.
“There's something not quite right about him, isn't there?” Lady Briston said beside him. He wondered how long she'd been standing there.
“Who?”
“Camille's prince, of course.”
Gray nodded. “You noticed that too?”
“My dear boy.” She gave him a pitying look. “I have encountered far too many displaced royals in my life not to be able to tell when one is less than genuine. It is fortunate, then . . .” She paused, apparently having thought better of what she was about to say.
“Yes?”
“Just a random thought. Of no real significance.” She sipped her brandy and studied Pruzinsky. “It is a pity, though.”
“Why?”
“Dear Lord, Grayson, have you looked at the man?” She had the look in her eyes of a gourmand who had just spotted a delectable morsel. “I'm not sure I have ever met a living, breathing man who looks as tasty as that one does.”
“I see.”
She slanted him a sharp glance. “You thought I was going to say it was a shame because I wish to have a prince in the family.”
He started to deny it, then thought better of it and nodded.
“I can't deny the idea of being connected to royalty has a particular appeal, but my daughters are no longer children. They each married well the first time.” She slanted him a sharp glance. “As their mother, it was my duty to make certain they did so.”
“Of course,” he murmured.
“At this point in their lives, however, they are more than capable of making their own decisions. And I expect them to do so. I am not one of those mothers who interferes. My daughters are all intelligent, financially independent, and they are free to do exactly as they wish. Delilah is still trying to decide exactly what that is, of course, but she is still fairly young. Beryl's second marriage has turned out not at all as she expected and she appears quite happy. As for Camille, aside from not yet having conquered her tendency toward impulse, she, too, is searching, I think.”
“Perhaps she has found what she is looking for.”
“Goodness, Grayson, if you really believed that, you wouldn't be here.” She glanced at him. “Why are you here?”
“I am simply trying to lend my assistance to a friend.”
“Yes, that was my guess.” She paused. “We can't allow her to marry him if he's not what he says he is.”
“What happened to your daughters being more than capable of making their own decisions?”
“ âCapable' and âcorrect' are two entirely different things. Can I trust you to stop this?”
“Why me?”
“For two reasons, I suppose. One, it keeps me from being an interfering mother.”
He laughed. “Well, then, I have no choice.”
“Why have you not declared yourself?” she said in an offhand manner.
“What?” He stared at her.
“You heard me.” She sighed. “I am not a stupid woman, dear boy. Camille may not see it, but I do. I suspect Beryl does as well.” She paused. “Although she is obviously not pleased about it.”
“About what?” Caution edged his words.
“About reason number two. About the way you cannot take your eyes off Camille. About the look in your eyes when your gaze settles on her, or when her gaze meets yours. I doubt that anyone, besides Beryl and myself, has noticed. They do not forgive easilyâmy daughters, that is. Nor do I.” She sipped her brandy thoughtfully. “I suspect it is one of those things that is passed from mother to daughter, from generation to generation. Nonetheless, we expect forgiveness to be earned.”
“I am trying.”
“Yes, of course, by being her friend. And is that going well?”
“I was able to explain your appearance.”
“My, you are quick-witted. No doubt that explains how you made that lovely fortune of yours.” She paused for a long moment. “I wouldn't have stopped you.”
He shook his head. “I don't understand.”
“No, I'm sure you don't.” She heaved a resigned sigh. “I have encouraged my daughters, steered them in the proper direction, as it were, but I have never forced them to do anything. I daresay, I couldn't have, even if I tried. Perhaps you never noticed, but they are all annoyingly strong-willed.” She smiled in a smug manner. “Yet something else apparently passed from mother to daughter.”