No, not Camille—it was Beryl. Relief washed through him. He usually had been able to tell one twin from the other, if only because Camille’s eyes lit with affection when she saw him—or at least they had once. Beryl’s gaze, however, tended to be cool and assessing. There was a slight difference in the timbre of their voices as well. Of course, that was a long time ago.

He plastered a smile on his face. “Are you joining us?”

“There is nothing I like better than a brisk late-morning walk on a cold winter’s day,” Beryl said with an enthusiasm that didn’t fool him for a moment. Beryl had never been the kind of woman who took well to the out-of-doors under less than ideal conditions. She was obviously here at the insistence of her sister. Still, this might give him the opportunity to pull her aside and find out exactly what she had meant when she’d said he had broken Camille’s heart. He never went into a business negotiation without knowing all the facts and he wanted to know them now. Gray joined the couple and nodded a good day to the prince.

“Your Highness.” What was it about foreign royalty that gave one the oddest desire to click one’s heels together? He resisted it.

Pruzinsky raised a chastising brow.

“My apologies, Count,” Gray said.

“I know it is difficult for you English, dispensing with the formality of titles. I find it most amusing.” The prince chuckled. “You may consider it a royal command, if it eases your British sensibilities.”

“How very gracious of you,” Beryl said with a smile.

The prince returned her smile; then stepped aside to allow the lone footman present to help him with his cloak.

Beryl stepped closer to Gray and lowered her voice. “Camille thought it would be better not to leave you alone with the prince.”

“I said I wouldn’t shoot him,” Gray said quietly. “What more can she ask for?”

“Apparently, she thinks there is a great deal more. Besides, you know what they say about keeping your enemies closer than even your friends.”

“I am not her enemy.”

“It remains to be seen exactly what you are. Friend or enemy, it scarcely matters at the moment.” Beryl shrugged. “Neither of us trusts you.” Her gaze strayed to Pruzinsky. “Of course neither you nor I trust him.” She closed her eyes for a moment as if saying a silent prayer. “Oh, it’s going to be a jolly Christmas.”

Gray choked back a laugh.

Pruzinsky glanced at them. “Are we ready?”

“As ready as we shall ever be.” Beryl adjusted her fur-trimmed bonnet. A fetching thing, really, although he doubted that it would keep her warm. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if Beryl abandoned them within moments of leaving the house. She took the prince’s arm. “Shall we?”