Without another word, he pressed his lips to hers, gathering her closer. As kisses went, it was quite nicely done. Indeed, it was an excellent kiss. “Practiced” was the word that came to mind. He certainly knew what he was doing. Still, it brought no rush of desire, no aching need, no longing for more. In many ways, it was a great pity that the only thing it evoked was the momentary thought that it was entirely too long.

He raised his head and gazed down at her. “That was just the beginning, my dear Camille.” He released her and stepped back, then took her hand. “But for the moment, it shall have to do.”

She smiled up at him. “I’m afraid so.”

“I believe I shall retire for the night. It must be your country air. I find I am quite ready for bed.” He cast her a pointed look.

She ignored it. “Good evening, Nikolai.”

“Good evening.” He nodded, turned and strode off toward the stairs.

She breathed a sigh of relief. That was that, then. Any reservations she might have had about not marrying Nikolai vanished with the first touch of his lips to hers. She knew this decision was the right one.

“What was that?” Grayson said behind her.

She stepped away from the mistletoe and turned to face him. “Goodness, Grayson, surely you have seen a kiss before.”

His eyes narrowed. “That was a very long kiss.”

“Was it?” She shrugged. “It didn’t seem long to me at all. But then, it was an excellent kiss.”

“It didn’t look like an excellent kiss. It looked rehearsed. ”

“Perhaps from where you were standing.” She started toward the stairs. “But from where I was standing, it was excellent.”

“Where are you going?”

“To my room. I am not in the mood to play parlor games tonight. Besides, as Nikolai has retired for the night, so shall I.”

“Oh no, you’re not.” He grabbed her arm and steered her into the parlor. He fairly shoved her into the room; then closed the doors behind her.

“What are you doing?” She glanced around. “Where is everyone?”

“The general consensus was that it had been a long day and they were all ready for bed. Your mother and sisters all claimed to have aching heads—”

“Probably something in the air.”

“Perhaps you didn’t notice, but Mrs. Montgomery-Wells had a touch too much wine at dinner and could scarcely keep her eyes open. Mr. Henderson gallantly offered to escort her to her room. And Miss Murdock said she had a good book she was dying to get back to.”

“No doubt.”

“And Pruzinsky has gone as well?”

She nodded.

“Good, then we are alone.” He strode across the room, filled two glasses with brandy and returned. He handed her a glass. “Here. We have a great deal to talk about.”