The boys held their collective breaths. Her gaze slid from one worried face to the next and her heart melted. No, Camille could see why they didn’t wish to be orphans, given books like Oliver Twist. “Very well.” She thought for a moment. “You are not orphans but his nephews, come for a visit before Christmas.” Their expressions eased. “Will that do?”

They nodded.

“Now let me tell you a few things about your Uncle Grayson . . .” A few moments later, she sat back on her heels and studied the boys. “So you are clear on what you are to do?”

Once again they exchanged glances and nodded.

“And if you do it very, very well, when you leave, I shall give each of you a shilling.”

There was a collective gasp.

“A whole shilling?” Simon asked, eyes wide at the thought of untold riches.

She nodded. “A whole shilling.”

Suspicion narrowed Thomas’s eyes. “For each of us?”

“Each and every one. Do we have an agreement?” She held out her hand. “Shall we shake on it?”

A wide grin spread across Thomas’s face. “Agreed.” He spit on his palm and held out his hand; his brothers followed suit.

Camille cringed, forced a smile, shook five damp hands and stood up. Beryl rushed forward and handed her a handkerchief.

“That was revolting.” Beryl cast a disgusted look at the children.

“Initiations often are.” She grimaced, and addressed the children. “Now, do give a proper greeting to your Uncle Grayson.”

“Their what?” Confusion flashed in Grayson’s eyes. At once, he was surrounded by little boys. The older boys made him the center of a barrage of suggestions and questions as to what kind of games he liked, and when should they play, and what should they do now; the twins simply clung to his pant legs.

Beryl glanced at her sister. “Camille, what have you done?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it ‘revenge.’ That would be beneath me. But ‘retribution’ has a nice ring to it. I believe I have solved the problem quite nicely,” Camille said quietly, then raised her voice to be heard over the children. “They are playing the parts of your beloved nephews who adore you almost as much as you adore them.”

“They do?” The look on his face was not quite as horrified as Beryl’s had been but still apprehensive. Good! He tried gently to disengage himself. Her sister was right: It did seem as though there were hundreds or at least dozens of children. “I do?”

“That’s why they have come to visit you.” Camille turned to the footman and maid still watching the unfolding scene. “Surely, they came with hats, scarves, coats, mittens, that sort of thing. Have them dressed for the out-of-doors immediately, please.” She caught Grayson’s gaze. “You and your nephews can put some of that boundless energy to use and gather greenery for decorating the house tomorrow.”