“It is most annoying.”

She shook her head. “There is nothing to be done about it, I’m afraid.”

“Meet me tonight.” Urgency sounded in his voice. “Come to my room. We have much to talk about and to settle between us. There are questions that need to be asked, the future to be decided.”

“I quite agree, but I can’t come to your room.” She adopted a note of regret. “It would be scandalous, and with all these people . . .”

“You do not trust them?” He frowned. “This family of yours?”

“Oh, of course I trust my family,” she said quickly. “But the servants, well, they do tend to gossip.”

“Yes, of course. I . . .” He hesitated.

“Yes?”

“I did not wish to worry you with such things, as I did not want to spoil Christmas. But before I arrived, I had word from my country.” He shook his head. “There are events unfolding that require me to return sooner than expected.”

“Oh, dear.” How convenient. “Perhaps it would be best if you were to return at once.”

“I am not overly concerned as of yet. Besides, Christmas is the day after tomorrow.” His gaze met hers. “I wish to have matters settled between us by then. Possibly even an announcement?”

A heavy weight settled in her stomach, but she forced a light laugh. “Possibly.”

“I warned you, I am not a patient man.” A hard note sounded in his voice. “And what little patience I have is growing thin.”

“Perhaps . . .” She chose her words with care. “It might be wiser, given how crowded the house is, and all that I have to see to, Christmas and everything that goes along with it, if we wait until the new year to make any decisions—”

“No. That will not do. Especially now. I know what I want, Camille, and I think you know as well.” He grabbed her and pulled her into his arms.

“Goodness, Nikolai, this is neither the time nor the place.” She pushed against him. Good Lord, it was tiring to walk this fine line between flirtation and avoidance.

“Perhaps this is not the time.” He chuckled and glanced upward. Her gaze followed his. Mistletoe! Of course. It was all over the house. She’d noticed it on her way to dinner. Grayson’s doing, no doubt, although this was obviously not what he’d had in mind. “But it is most certainly the place.”

“Even so . . .”

“But is it not tradition?”

“Well, yes, but . . .” She caught sight of Grayson out of the corner of her eye. He stood in the dining room once more, just outside the doors to the parlor; far enough away to be discreet, yet close enough to watch her every move. Very well, then. She smiled up at Nikolai. “As it is tradition. . .”