What Happens At Christmas (Millworth Manor series Book 1)

by Victoria Alexander

  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.”

  “ ‘Noble’ 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.”

  “ ‘Play 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 accident—”

  “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 count—and I am fairly certain he is neither a count nor is his name Pruzinsky—”

  “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 suspect—and this is a point I have already made to her, I might add—she 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 and—as Camille has every minute of today planned—today 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 see—”

  “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 obv
ious to me. I would list them for you, but as the ‘count’ 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.

  He had no need or desire for Camille’s fortune, but her heart and the rest of her life would belong to him.

  Now he just had to convince her.

  Thirteen

  For a moment, Camille was tempted to close her eyes and savor the serenity of gliding across the frozen pond. The stillness of the late winter afternoon surrounded her, crept into her soul, soothed her. She had nearly forgotten how peaceful it could be. How the tranquility she had once found here made her feel as if she could accomplish anything she set her mind on. Surrounded by the frozen fields and bare trees starkly outlined against the gray sky, it had always reminded her of a magical place to be found only in fairy stories. She’d skated often as a girl, but it had been a very long time since she last stepped foot upon the ice. Her hands were deep in her fur muff; her head was kept warm by her fur-lined hat. She reveled in the bracing feel of the cold breeze upon her face.

  Grayson skated up beside her. “You’re to be congratulated. All seems to be going smoothly.”

  The moment vanished and she cast him a skeptical look. “I am not as silly as that. The very instant I start thinking things are going well will be precisely when disaster strikes.” She glanced at the bench by the side of the pond where Nikolai and Miss Murdock chatted and laughed together. Nikolai had begged off skating, claiming that a long-ago ankle injury limited his ability on skates, but he had gallantly insisted the others enjoy themselves. “And I don’t like that one bit.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Don’t be absurd.” She settled her hands deeper into her muff and raised her chin. “In spite of Miss Murdock’s proclivity for flirtation, I have no doubts as to Nikolai’s affections.”

  “I see,” Grayson said slowly. “He has declared himself then?”

  “Not yet.” Nor did she intend to allow him to do so. While a kiss might well change everything, she was fairly certain that marriage to Nikolai was no longer her ambition. Her only goal now was to achieve her perfect Christmas, stay clear of a proposal, get rid of the man and avoid scandal. “I’m just not sure leaving him alone with Miss Murdock is a good idea. I do wish Beryl had come with us.”

  Beryl had refused to accompany them, saying she had spent more than enough time in the out-of-doors this morning, thank you very much, and had some reading she wished to catch up on in the library. Odd, as Beryl had never been especially inclined toward reading, but then she had never been overly fond of out-of-doors activities either.

  “Camille,” Grayson began, “about Pruzinsky—”

  “Grayson, I know you neither like nor trust him, so I would much prefer not to discuss him with you.”

  “Very well.” His gaze slid to the other couple on the ice. “Then shall we discuss how Mrs. Montgomery-Wells and Mr. Henderson are remarkably proficient on skates?”

  She turned her attention to the older pair. “I’m not sure ‘proficient’ is the right word. ‘Adequate’ might be better. Neither has fallen, at any rate.” Mrs. Montgomery-Wells could be heard giggling like a schoolgirl and Mr. Henderson looked to be having a jolly time as well. Camille smiled reluctantly. “They do seem to be having an enjoyable time of it.”

  “No doubt reliving more youthful days.” He chuckled. “Which I can well understand. I haven’t skated in years.”

  “And yet you haven’t fallen either.”

  “Nor have you.”

  “You should congratulate me for that as well. I can’t remember the last time I was on skates.” She shook her head. “Odd how things you haven’t given a second thought to come back to you when you need them.”

  “This does bring back fond memories, you know.” He made a fast rotation on the flat of his blade to skate backward, facing her.

  She stifled a smile. “Now you’re just trying to show off.”

  “And doing a fine job of it, I’d say.” He grinned. The cold had reddened his cheeks and his dark eyes sparkled. Without warning, the years vanished and she was back to those long-ago days when she had ignored how much she had adored him because they were never meant to be anything more than friends. For a moment, she saw the fun-loving, adventurous boy he’d once been. Now, with the passage of years, he’d grown into the handsome promise of his youth, with a fine veneer of intelligence and experience that made him dashing and interesting and . . . seductive. Blasted man. “But if I really wanted to show off, I would challenge you to a race.”

  “Nonsense, Grayson.” She sniffed. “We are not children now.”

  “Even so, I daresay, I could still beat you.”

  “You only beat me then because I allowed you to do so.”

  “That’s not exactly as I remember it.”

  “Age is no doubt addling your mind.”

  He laughed. “I beat you then because I was stronger and faster. And you were a mere girl.”

  “As I am no longer a mere girl,” she said, “should I wish to engage in such a childish pursuit, I have no doubt I could best you handily.”

  “I would be willing to take the chance.” His eyes shimmered with laughter. “And I would win.”

  “Not if I threw a stone in your path to trip you up.” She smiled sweetly.

  He gasped. “That wouldn’t be fair.”

  “Fair would be if you had to skate in skirts. As you would not, I would feel no qualms whatsoever about taking any advantage that came my way. Fair or not, I would still enjoy triumphing over you.” She shrugged. “All is fair in love and war, you know.”

  “And what is this?” His smile remained, but his tone was abruptly sober. “Love or war?”

  “Both,” she said without thinking; then realized what she had said, turned and skated off. Whatever possessed her to say that? Perhaps it had been love once, but now . . . now it was . . . what?

  “You’re not getting away that easily!” he called after her.

  She skated faster, but he was ahead of her in a flash. He turned and stopped abruptly, his blades shaving the ice in what might have been an impressive display under other circumstances. He was too close; and before she could veer away, she slid into him. He caught her in his arms and stared down at her.

  “It’s not war, Camille.”

  Her heartbeat quickened. “It’s not love.”

  “It could be.” His gaze bored into hers. “It was once.”

  She started to deny it, but what was the point? Even if she’d never told him. Even if he’d never given her the chance. “ ‘Once’ was a very long time ago.”

  He studied her closely. “Your sister said I broke your heart.”

  “And you said I broke yours.” She stared into his dark eyes.

  “You did,” he said simply.

  “Oh, come now.” She pulled out of his arms. “One would think a man with a broken heart would do something, anything
, to—”

  “Lady Lydingham!” One of her footmen ran toward the pond waving frantically. Odd, she didn’t remember any of them having bright red hair.

  “Excellent timing,” Gray said under his breath.

  “Indeed, it is,” she snapped. “But you are right about one thing. We do need to talk about the past.” She nodded and skated toward the footman waiting at the edge of the pond.

  “Lady Lydingham.” The poor man struggled to catch his breath. He must have run all the way. And was he wearing a wig? “Lady Dunwell says you must return immediately. She said it’s of dire importance.”

  “Of course she does.” Camille knew the moment she relaxed her guard, disaster would strike. She stepped off the ice.

  “What is it?” Grayson said behind her.

  “I don’t know,” she said sharply, grabbing his arm to steady herself while she removed her blades. It struck her how natural and familiar it seemed to lean on him for balance. She shoved the thought aside. There were far more pressing matters to concern herself with at the moment. She glanced at the footman. What could possibly be of dire importance? Nikolai and everyone else in the “family” were here. “I can’t leave now. Are you sure it’s important?”

  “She said she would have my head if you did not return at once.” The young man’s eyes widened. “Pardon my saying, my lady, but I think she meant it.”

  “No doubt,” Grayson muttered.

  “You can make yourself useful by staying with the others. Here, take these.” She handed Grayson her skates. “They’ll only slow me down.” She nodded at the servant. “Come along.” They started back toward the house.

  “I’m coming with you,” Grayson called after her.

  “No, you’re not!” She didn’t turn to see if he was doing as she asked; only picked up her pace. The footman was taller than she was, and she had to work to keep up with him. “And you, take that stupid thing off.”