“New arrivals?” Nikolai strode into the room, the others right on his heel. If nothing else, given his looks alone, he certainly did make an excellent first impression.

“The prince,” Camille whispered into her mother’s ear. She nodded in response.

“I am Count Pruzinsky.” He stepped to her mother, took her hand and raised it to his lips. “And I am at your service.”

Camille wondered if he said that to everyone he met. Odd how it was most charming a few days ago and now it set her teeth on edge.

“Count Pruzinsky?” Mother cast her a quizzical glance. “Not ‘Prince’?”

“He prefers to travel incognito,” Grayson said quickly, and Camille threw him a grateful look.

Nikolai flashed his perfect smile. “I must reconsider my traveling indulgences. Although I consider them necessary, they are proving to be somewhat awkward.” He turned his attention to her mother. “And you are?”

Mother’s eyes widened. “I . . .”

“Allow me to introduce my mother,” Grayson said smoothly. “Mrs. Elliott.”

“Yes, of course, that’s exactly who I am.” Mother beamed. “And this is my daughter, Grayson’s sister, Miss Elliott. Prudence.”

Delilah choked. “ ‘Prudence’?”

“It’s a virtue,” Beryl said, sounding a bit sharper than necessary.

“And a beautiful name.” Nikolai moved to Delilah and took her hand, his gaze never leaving hers. “For a beautiful woman.”

“Oh.” Delilah stared up at him as if mesmerized. Although, admittedly, it was hard not to be taken with all that blond hair and royal charm.

Beryl turned to the others. “Mother, Uncle Basil, Delilah, look who has come to join us.”

Mr. Henderson’s brow furrowed. “Who?”

“Cousin Grayson’s mother and sister, of course.” Beryl forced a smile. “Cousin Prudence and Cousin . . .” Panic flashed in her eyes.

“My dear Bernadette,” Mother said, sweeping across the room to enfold Mrs. Montgomery-Wells in her arms. “How wonderful to see you again. And thank you so much for inviting us for Christmas.”

“Why, it wouldn’t be Christmas without you.” The older woman gave Mother a warm smile. The actress seemed to be taking this new development in stride. Perhaps her perpetual fog was at last lifting. “But it’s not Bernadette, you know. It’s Anastasia.” Or not.

“Really?” Mother’s eyes widened. “I could have sworn it was Bernadette.”

“It’s quite all right, my dear.” The actress patted her mother’s arm. “These things happen when one gets older. It happens to me all the time.”

“Still,” Mother said slowly, “I am fairly certain it’s Bernadette.”

Mrs. Montgomery-Wells frowned. “I daresay, I know my own name.” She glanced at Mr. Henderson. “Goodness, Franklin, some people have no idea who they are. Lack of study, no doubt.”

“No doubt.” Mr. Henderson sighed. “And it’s Basil.”

Mrs. Montgomery-Wells threw Mother a pointed look. “What did I tell you?”

Mother smiled weakly.