“I don’t know,” she said sharply; then pushed past her sister and paced the room. “We were both young and his declaration took me by surprise. It was the last thing I had expected from him. I didn’t know how to respond, so, in hindsight, I didn’t—I don’t know—respond well, I suppose. I could have told him I loved him. That I had always loved him, but I didn’t.” She glanced at her sister. “I said he was being silly. And when he said I would marry him if he had money, I pointed out it scarcely mattered, as he didn’t have any.”

“Yes, yes.” Beryl waved off the comment. “I know all that.”

“Looking back on it, one might see where that sort of dismissal might well wound—”

“He left you!” Beryl stared. “He could have come back that day or the next or interrupted your wedding.” Her eyes narrowed. “He certainly could have come back after Harold died, but he didn’t!”

“No, he didn’t! Nor did I expect him to!”

“But you wanted him to!”

“Yes, yes, I admit it.” Camille huffed. “I wanted him to! There, are you happy now?”

“Not really.” Beryl studied her closely. “What are you going to do about him?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.” Camille rubbed a weary hand over her forehead. “He is the least of my problems.”

“Ah yes, that’s right. You have a prince and a house filled with actors to attend to. Oh, and children as well.”

“Sarcasm, Beryl”—she aimed a pointed look at her sister—“does not help matters.”

“Has he proposed yet?”

“Nikolai?”

“Yes, Nikolai, your prince. Remember?”

“Of course I remember and no, he hasn’t proposed.” She drew a deep breath. “And I’m beginning to think I don’t want him to.”

Surprise mixed with relief in her sister’s eyes. “I thought that was the whole purpose of this farce of yours?”

“Yes, well, once again I have leapt into something without thoroughly thinking it through,” Camille said sharply.

“And?”

“And I’ve decided you might well be right.”

“Aha!” Triumph rang in Beryl’s voice then her brow furrowed. “About what?”

“About marrying a man one loves rather than marrying a man with the hopes of love one day.”

“I see,” Beryl said slowly. “Then are we to end this deception of yours?”

“Good Lord, no!” She resumed pacing. “We need to continue precisely as planned.”

Beryl shook her head. “I don’t understand. If the purpose is no longer to prove the propriety of the family to Pruzinsky and give him a perfect Christmas—”

“For one thing, I could be wrong, and I do think I should kiss him—”

“You haven’t kissed him?”

“The opportunity hasn’t arisen.”

Beryl stared in disbelief.