Number two: He had to regain the friendship they had once shared. Helping her in her Christmas farce was a start, even if he didn’t want it to be successful. At least not to the point where she won the hand of her perfect prince. Of course, if it blew up in her face, there would be no way to keep the debacle quiet. Her reputation would be shattered. He couldn’t have that either. What he had to do was make this Christmas plot even more difficult to manage than it already was, in hopes of bringing her to her senses. Make her realize that a man, even a prince, whom she needed to put on an act for, wasn’t a man worth having. And certainly wasn’t worthy of having her.

And therein lay his confusion. Last night there had been a moment when she was speaking of marrying the prince, when he thought she had surely changed her mind. But today in the attic, when they spoke of the imaginary prince at the ball—and it was obvious they were describing Pruzinsky—she had sighed in a most heartfelt manner, as if the prince was all she wanted in the world. Last night she had kissed him back. There was no doubt of that. Then today she had threatened bodily harm if he kissed her again; yet, only a few minutes later, she obviously wanted him to do just that. It was most confusing. He didn’t know what she wanted.

Although, perhaps, neither did she. He smiled slowly. The Camille he remembered always knew her own mind, what she wanted and what she didn’t. This was a very good sign.

So he would gain her forgiveness, earn back her friendship; then number three: He would win her heart. It was an excellent plan, lacking only the minor details. An idea flashed through his mind as to what else might make this a perfect Mr. Dickens’s Christmas and complicate the proceedings as well. He grinned. She had everything else. How could she have forgotten this? He would arrange for it at once. He headed to the library and penned a quick note to Win. On his return to the entry, he gave it to a footman with instructions to deliver it at once.

For now, he would take Pruzinsky on a long walk to the pond to determine if it was frozen enough for skating. And in the process, he would see what he might be able to learn about Camille’s prince.

Gray started back down the stairs to the front entry and his heart sank. Pruzinsky waited for him with Camille. Blast it all. He wanted to get the prince alone. His step slowed.

She glanced up at him. “We were beginning to think you had changed your mind.”