Camille swallowed hard and nodded.
“But you also mentioned the parade of lovers.” She met Camille’s gaze directly. “I never flaunted them. I never displayed undue affection in front of you. In truth, I was most discreet and most selective.” She narrowed her eyes. “I daresay, you have no idea how many, if any, I actually took to my bed. Nor is it any of your concern.”
“Mother—”
“I would think at this point in your life, Camille, you would understand that there are moments when loneliness is an ache somewhere in the vicinity of your heart that cannot be eased, despite the presence of friends and family.” She gazed at her daughter for a long moment. “Do you? Understand, that is?”
“I think so.” Camille nodded. Indeed, hadn’t she felt it herself? An ache, a longing, a need that woke her in the night reaching for something or someone just out of reach.
Grayson.
She couldn’t get him out of her thoughts today. But then through the years of her marriage and the years since, no matter how hard she had tried to put him out of her head, he had always lingered in the dim recesses of her mind and her heart. At once, she realized what she should have known from the beginning. Wasn’t that the way with true love?
“Camille?”
“Yes?” Her attention snapped back to her mother.
Mother studied her curiously. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, of course.” Camille nodded. “My apologies. A random thought. Nothing of significance . . .”
“I should apologize to you as well, I suppose, for being short-tempered. Not for the way I have lived my life, mind you,” Lady Briston added quickly. “Although . . .” The oddest look of indecision washed across her face. “Admittedly, I have not always made the right decisions. There are perhaps one or two things I have done in the past—”
“Mother.” A warning sounded in Beryl’s voice.
“That, while I thought were for the best, might, in hindsight, be considered, oh, I don’t know, unforgivable.”
Camille stared. “ ‘Unforgivable’?”
“Don’t be absurd,” Delilah chimed in. “I can’t imagine anything that would be unforgivable.”
“One cannot be faulted for doing the wrong thing for what one believed to be the right reasons,” Beryl said firmly.
“Oh, but I’m afraid one can,” her mother said with a wry smile.
“But what if it’s for the wrong reasons?” Camille said slowly. “What if one’s decisions were prompted by anger or foolishness or pride?”
“I would say that’s something else, then, isn’t it?” Mother said.
“But you said it yourself yesterday,” Camille began. “How one needs to decide—to balance, if you will—what one might lose from forgiveness as opposed to what one might gain.”
“Good Lord.” Beryl stared at her twin. “You’ve forgiven him, haven’t you?”
“Who?” Camille said casually, as if she had no idea what Beryl was talking about. She picked up an ornament and unwrapped it.
“You know who!” Beryl huffed.
“Grayson and I had a long, oh, discussion last night.” Camille placed the ornament on the tree. “We talked about what had passed between us eleven years ago. I know now what he was thinking and feeling, and he knows how I felt. And furthermore”—resolve washed through her—“I believe I know what I want.”
“For Christmas?” Delilah asked.
“Forever,” Camille said with a firm nod of her head.
“What a surprise.” Mother smiled.
“Did he tell you everything?” Beryl said sharply. “Did he tell you about his fortune?”
“Yes.” She met her sister’s gaze directly. “And last night he admitted he should have known me better than to have thought the worst of me. I should place the same trust in him.”
“You can’t just open your arms and say I’m yours.” Exasperation sounded in Beryl’s voice. “The man does need to be taught some sort of lesson.”
“Although one could argue they have both been taught a lesson that has gone on for eleven years,” Mother said in an offhand manner. “Indeed, one might say that was long enough.”
“Or too long,” Delilah pointed out.
“Regardless.” Beryl heaved a resigned sigh. “I don’t think you should make this too easy for him.”
“I daresay, it hasn’t been easy so far.” Camille shook her head. “I lost him once, because he thought money meant more to me than love, and because his pride was wounded as much as his heart. I shall not lose him again because of my pride.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
“I said last night that I had changed, and I have. The girl I was eleven years ago waited for him to return. Waited for her fairy-tale prince to sweep her away.” She set her jaw firmly. “The woman I am now knows what she wants and has waited entirely too long to pursue it.”
Camille pulled a deep breath for courage and knocked on Grayson’s door. Hopefully, she would catch him before he went down to dinner. If not, she’d leave him the brief note she had written. It wasn’t an apology—she really didn’t think she had anything to apologize for, except perhaps for losing her temper—but it was in the manner of an olive branch. And she had written that she loved him.
She had only seen him in passing most of the day; and when she had, he’d been preoccupied. The man obviously had something weighing heavily on his mind. While last night had brought her to the inescapable realization that she had never stopped loving him, she couldn’t help but wonder if he had come to another conclusion altogether. Perhaps last night wasn’t a new beginning between them, but rather it was, once and for all, the end. Perhaps they couldn’t move past their anger and pain. And hadn’t he chosen once before to let her marry the wrong man?
“Grayson?” She opened his door and glanced inside. Obviously, she had missed him. No matter. She would leave her note and speak with him later. And then perhaps they could share Christmas Eve together.
A book sat beside the lamp on the table by the side of the bed; she wondered if his taste in reading had changed. Curious, she picked it up and a document beneath it drifted to the floor. She bent to retrieve the paper, started to replace it, then froze.
It was a receipt for passage to America on a ship sailing the day after Christmas.
Her heart caught. He was leaving? Again? In spite of everything that he’d said? According to this, he had never planned to stay.
No, even with the damning evidence in front of her, she was not going to jump to conclusions. There was a logical explanation for this. And hadn’t she said she needed to trust him? Even if he did intend to go back to America, by God, she had indeed learned from her mistakes. She would go after him. She would not lose him again.
She replaced the receipt and put the book back where it had been, ignoring the slight tremble in her hand. Obviously, a note was not now sufficient. There were things that needed to be said. She left his room and dropped the note off in hers, then headed down to dinner. She had no idea if she could eat past the lump in her throat; because as much as she wanted to believe there was a simple explanation, she couldn’t help but fear she was wrong.
Twenty-three
It 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. Be
ryl 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 ‘no’ 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 well—aside from the fact that he was a prince and handsome and wealthy—what 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 think—”
“Beryl, there were all sorts of things I said to him that could be taken in any number of different ways.”
“Even so—”
“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 think—”
“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 thought—”
“Obviously, you were mistaken.” Beryl huffed. “A mistake I was about to point out to you.”
“When I said ‘unhand,’ 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 sister—”
“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 be—”
“I shall tell her to hurry, as I understand you are a most impatient man.”
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