“I have no idea.” Beryl shrugged. “But men tend to do that sort of thing when they are trying to declare how much they love you. They confess all their sins. Pity that they expect you to confess yours too. Admittedly, that can be awkward.” She grimaced. “At that point, he’ll confess that he has money and why he didn’t want you to know.”

“I would think the very fact that he hasn’t thrown his success in your face is quite significant,” Mother said thoughtfully. “If that is his purpose, one does wonder what he is waiting for.”

“Why, he’s obviously waiting for me to tell him that I still love him.” She continued to pace. “That I’ve always loved him. Which is why mine was the heart that was broken.” She stopped and glared at her family. “The blasted man gave me hope and then snatched it away. For one moment, he held out to me everything I had ever wanted. Admittedly, I was too shocked or perhaps too stupid to grab on to it. But one would think if a man truly loves a woman, he wouldn’t make a grand announcement and then vanish. He would do everything in his power to win that woman!”

“Well, yes, one would think . . .”

“Whatever you do, do be careful,” Beryl said. “I would hate to see him hurt you again.”

“As would I,” Camille snapped.

“I saw him hurt you once, and I think that’s why I had been so unwilling to allow myself to fall in love. It very nearly ruined my life.”

“Good Lord, Beryl, what utter nonsense. My broken heart did not ruin your life.”

“I thought it sounded rather plausible.” Beryl picked up a morsel of biscuit and popped it into her mouth.

“This is not about you!” Camille’s voice rose.

“No, it’s not, but it’s left to the rest of us to pick up the pieces, isn’t it?” Beryl glared. “This charade of yours is a perfect example. You’ve gotten us all into this mess and now it’s up to us to make certain we do not come out of it as the laughingstock of England!”

“Well, at least she doesn’t have a tart playing you,” Delilah said sharply. “I don’t know what you were thinking, Camille. That actress, and I use the term loosely, doesn’t behave at all like me.”

Camille stared. “If you weren’t quite so stuffy—”

“But then you don’t think, do you?” Delilah glared.

“Come now, Delilah,” Mother said. “The woman playing you is at least close to your age, whereas Mrs. Montgomery-Wells is positively elderly.” She leveled a hard look at Camille. “I’m not at all pleased to have a woman who cannot remember her own name pretending to be me.”