Twenty-three
I
t was, all things considered, a rather perfect Christmas Eve. Or would have been, had Camille been able to have a moment alone with Grayson. There had been no chance to speak to him alone before they'd gone in to dinner. Even at the dinner table, he'd appeared distracted.
At least she didn't have to worry about much else tonight. Her mother had directed the conversation around the table like the skilled conductor of an orchestra. She had encouraged Mr. Henderson's stories, kept Mrs. Montgomery-Wells from straying too far afield and chatted with Nikolai as if he were indeed about to become a member of the family. She was the perfect hostess, but then she always had been. Delilah spent a good portion of dinner in animated conversation with Miss Murdock. Camille wondered if she was giving the actress advice or eliciting it. Beryl did her part as well, engaging Nikolai in conversation whenever his gaze settled on Camille. There was a determined look in his eye, and it was obvious that he wished to speak to her alone. He, no doubt, thought it would be the perfect time for a proposal. Of course it would have been, had she wanted a proposal. Even Uncle Basil joined them tonight, but he was unusually subdued. He spoke quietly to Grayson more than to anyone else, and he observed rather than joined in. His behavior could certainly be attributed to his not feeling quite up to snuff. Still, it was not at all like him.
Then after dinner, Grayson had vanished for a few moments, as had Beryl.
“Where have you been?” Camille said sharply when her twin returned to the parlor.
“Freshening up.” Beryl frowned. “Why?”
“I suspect I am going to need your help.”
“I do so hate to inconvenience you,” Beryl said absently, surveying the parlor. “I must say, this was an excellent idea.”
Camille nodded. “Once Mother discovered one of the footmen played the violin, she insisted he be employed to play for dancing tonight.”
The furniture had been moved away from the center of the room and there was more than enough space for dancing. At the moment, Mr. Henderson danced with Miss Murdock, Mother was partnered with Nikolai, Mrs. Montgomery-Wells danced with Grayson, and Delilah was with Uncle Basil.
“Does it strike you that there's something different about him?” Camille studied her uncle. “Uncle Basil, that is.”
“He's been ill,” Beryl said rather more curtly than was necessary. “That's what comes of wandering the world, you know. One can catch all sorts of dreadful illnesses.”
“That's probably it.” She nodded. “Mother also instructed Mrs. Fortesque in the making of her special Christmas Eve punch.”
“God help us, everyone,” Beryl said under her breath.
Nikolai's gaze caught hers. He inclined his head slightly toward the door. She smiled faintly at him in return.
“I suspect Nikolai has decided tonight is the night to propose.”
“Oh, well, I wouldn't worry about it,” Beryl said.
“Oh, I'm not worried about it.”
Beryl cast her a suspicious glance. “Why not?”
“Because I have a plan.”
Beryl's eyes narrowed. “What kind of plan?”
“You'll know soon enough.”
“Oh, good,” Beryl said with a sigh. “Something else to look forward to.”
It was impossible to avoid Nikolai for long, and Camille was dancing in his arms before she knew it.
“I am not a suspicious man, my dear Camille.” He smiled down at her. “Yet, I suspect you have been avoiding me.”
“Don't be absurd.” She forced a light laugh. “Why would I avoid you?”
“I don't know.” His gaze bored into hers. “Perhaps you are afraid?”
“What would I have to be afraid of?”
“Passion, my dear.” He pulled her closer against him. “The passion that simmers below the surface between the two of us.”
“Ah yes, well, there is that,” she said weakly.
“We shall speak later tonight.” A firm note sounded in his voice. “And I shall not take âno' for an answer.”
Nor did she intend to say “no,” as she fully intended not to get to that point. But he grew more and more impatient with every passing minute. It was all she could do to evade his grasp. She wondered as wellâaside from the fact that he was a prince and handsome and wealthyâwhat she had seen in him. Now she found him as irritating as she had once found him irresistible. What's not to love, indeed!
Oddly enough, given the small number of their party, even as she steered clear of Nikolai, she did not manage a single dance with Grayson. One would think he was avoiding her. The heavy knot, which had settled in the pit of her stomach before dinner, continued to grow. It seemed imperative to talk to him, to settle everything between them once and for all. Something told her she had no time to waste. She had wasted too much already. Eleven years too much.
She needed to tell him how she felt, what she wanted. It was completely irrational, and made no sense at all, but she had to tell him now. Tonight. She had to know if this Christmas Eve was the first of many to come. And she had to ask about the ship's passage. But given his manner today, did he feel the same?
If she could just avoid this blasted prince! And Grayson had disappeared once again. There was only one thing to be done about it. Beryl was approaching Nikolai, who was dancing with Miss Murdock. Camille grabbed her arm and pulled her into the hall, across the gallery, past the Christmas tree and into the small parlor.
“What is it now?” Impatience rang in Beryl's voice.
“We are going to change clothes.” Camille closed the doors behind her.
“Why?”
“I'm afraid Nikolai is going to propose or possibly attempt to seduce me. Both of which I want to avoid.” She shook her head. “Rejecting either his seduction or his proposal will simply complicate this entire debacle. We need to stay with the original plan. Just one more day, Beryl. We need to get through one more day, and then he can be called away.”
“I'm not going to allow him to seduce me.”
“Nor do I wish you to. I simply want you to, oh, distract him while I try to find Grayson.”
“And Grayson will save you?”
“No, of course not.” Camille started undoing the hooks on her gown. “I will save myself, but I haven't spoken to him since last night, and I'm afraid . . .” She drew a deep breath and steadied herself. “I'm afraid I may lose him again if I don't tell him how I feel.”
“I don't really thinkâ”
“Beryl, there were all sorts of things I said to him that could be taken in any number of different ways.”
“Even soâ”
“I never told him I loved him!”
Beryl stared at her for a long moment.
“Well? Are you going to help me or not?”
Beryl heaved a resigned sigh. “Of course I am. I always will.”
Quickly they traded dresses.
“Now what?” Beryl said when they had finished.
“You can keep Nikolai occupied, and do try to avoid any sort of commitment.”
“As in marriage, you mean?”
Camille nodded. “While you do that, I am going to find Grayson.”
“This is absurd.”
“Probably.” Camille sighed. “But it's all I can think of.”
They started back toward the main parlor and were near the Christmas tree, when Camille spotted Nikolai entering the gallery. She pushed Beryl forward, then stepped back to hide in the shadows behind the tree. Mother only allowed the candles on the tree to be lit when there were people nearby. There had been a nasty incident with a flaming tree some years ago.
“There you are.” Determination sounded in Nikolai's voice. “I have been looking for you.”
“And it seems you have found me,” Beryl said, although she certainly could have done so with a bit more enthusiasm. There was no way to get past them without Nikolai seeing her. For the moment, Camille was trapped where she was. She shifted her position and found a spot where she was hidden but could see through the branches.
“My darling.” Nikolai pulled her into his arms. “At last we are alone.”
“One never knows,” Beryl said in a louder voice than was necessary. “Why, someone could come upon us at any minute.”
He chuckled. “Nonsense. They are all having entirely too good a time. Thanks, in great part, to the Christmas Eve punch. It's quite potent. And might I say . . .” He paused in a most suggestive manner and lowered his face to Beryl's. Camille bit back a groan. He was going to kiss her! “It was most appreciated.”
Beryl pushed against him. “I really don't thinkâ”
“I think it would be wise if you unhanded my wife.” A cool voice sounded from across the gallery.
Nikolai froze.
Camille winced.
Beryl gasped. “Lionel!”
Beryl's husband strode casually across the gallery toward the couple.
“Your wife?” Nikolai looked down at Beryl. “But I thoughtâ”
“Obviously, you were mistaken.” Beryl huffed. “A mistake I was about to point out to you.”
“When I said âunhand,' I meant immediately.”
Lionel's manner was deceptively pleasant. Camille held her breath.
“Yes, of course.” Nikolai released Beryl and took a quick step back.
“Darling, this is not what you think it is.”
“It isn't?” Lionel's brow rose.
“No, not at all. It's . . .” Beryl paused. “What did you think it was?”
“I know exactly what it is. This bounder thinks he can have his way with you and I will not allow it.”
Beryl stared at her husband. “That's what you thought?”
Lionel cast her an affectionate smile. “Well, it was obvious to me you weren't encouraging his attention.”
“Lady Dunwell, Lord Dunwell, my apologies.” Nikolai straightened his cuffs. “I have no idea how this happened. I thought you were Camille. I could have sworn she was wearing this. . . . Obviously, I was confused. No doubt the result of too much punch.” He shook his head. “Once again, I am most sorry. I do hope this won't influence your opinion of me in the future.”
“Not at all. I daresay, nothing could change my opinion of you.” Beryl waved off his comment. “But if you wish for a private moment with my sisterâ”
“Indeed, I thought I was having a private moment,” Nikolai murmured.
“I suggest you wait for her in the library. I shall find her myself and send her to you.” Beryl paused. “Although it may be a few minutes, what with the festivities and all.”
“Perhaps, it would beâ”
“I shall tell her to hurry, as I understand you are a most impatient man.”
“Very well, then. That would be appreciated, Lady Dunwell.” He nodded. “Lord Dunwell.” With that, he turned and headed toward the library.
Camille breathed a sigh of relief.
“I gather that was Pruzinsky?” Lionel said.
She nodded.
“Handsome chap, I'll give him that. However, I do have some informationâ”
Before he could get the words out, Beryl kissed him, and quite thoroughly too. And Lionel kissed her back. The man wasn't nearly as stuffy as one might think.
Beryl pulled away at last. “How did you know it was me and not Camille? Even people who know us well still get confused. And the light is rather dim here near the tree. Yet you recognized me from across the length of the gallery.”
“My dear, darling wife.” He wrapped his arms tighter around her and stared into her eyes. “I know the way you stand, the way you hold your head, the faint difference in the sound of your voices, which may be apparent only to me. I daresay, if there were a dozen of you all exactly alike, I should still know which one was you, and you alone.” He smiled. “I think I know in my heart, and I always will.”
“Oh, my.” Beryl stared up at her husband and sighed. Camille sighed as well. “I am a lucky woman.”
“And I am a lucky man.” Lionel kissed the tip of her nose. “Shall we join the rest of the, um, cast? I am dying to know how Camille's farce is progressing.”
“Oh, darling, I think that would be a dreadful idea. Things have not gone exactly as planned.”
He chuckled. “That is not unexpected.”
“Besides, I have missed you entirely too much to share you.” She brushed her lips across his. “I think retiring for the night is a much, much better idea.”