“Are you certain?” Doubt shaded the prince’s handsome face. “Perhaps I should stay here so that I might be of assistance, should the ice not be as sound as it appears.”

“Oh, but until you get to the very middle,” Beryl said quickly, “the water scarcely comes up to your waist. Even if Grayson fell through, he would barely be more than inconvenienced.”

Gray raised a brow. “ ‘Inconvenienced’?”

“No more than that.” Beryl shrugged. “It’s entirely too shallow to drown. Certainly, you would be wet and cold. It would be most uncomfortable, but not fatal. Besides, I am here to assist you.”

Gray eyed her skeptically. “You’ll pull me out of the water?”

“No, Cousin, dear.” Beryl grinned. “I shall fetch help.”

“That is a relief,” he said wryly.

“Then I shall leave you in capable hands and check the ice elsewhere.” Pruzinsky nodded and started around the pond.

Gray took a few more cautious steps forward.

“Goodness, Grayson,” Beryl called, “you can tell just by the color of it that the pond is suitable for skating.” She joined him on the ice.

“I’m trying to make certain,” he said in a lofty manner.

“You’re trying to make a good show of it.” She sniffed. “I know your main purpose in taking this endless walk in this dreadful weather was to find out what you could about Pruzinsky.”

“And I thought I was simply being helpful by occupying his time and keeping him away from the ‘family.’ ”

“You can do both.” She glanced at Pruzinsky. “He can’t hear us now.” Nonetheless, she lowered her voice. “He’s not who he says he is, is he?”

He studied her. “Have you heard from your investigators?”

“Not yet, but I did some investigating of my own. In the library.” A hard note sounded in her voice. “There is no Kingdom of Avalonia, Greater or otherwise.”

“I know.”

She frowned in suspicion. “How do you know?”

He thought it wise not to mention how long he had known and that he had not shared that information with her. “Apparently, I had the same thought. I was in the library this morning.”

“I wish Camille had shared our thoughts. She is not a stupid woman yet this . . . him . . .” Beryl blew a frustrated breath. “She was obviously swept away by charm and his dashing good looks and her own desires.”

“What do you think he wants?”

“Money, of course. Camille’s husband left her a considerable fortune. The nerve of the man.” She huffed. “Admittedly, I have never been opposed to those who wish to better themselves by marriage. And Lord knows I have no difficulty with marrying for money.”

“Not that I’ve heard.”

“Nor am I the most, oh, aboveboard person—”

He snorted.