It had been an awkward day, thus far. He wasn’t sure what had happened between Camille and her family, but the ladies scarcely said more than a few polite words to one another when he had seen them at breakfast. The actors and Pruzinsky had, as had become their custom, not presented themselves for breakfast. He had yet to see Pruzinsky today, but he thought the others were in the parlor.

Lady Briston had pulled Gray aside and said that, as things were so complicated, Lord Briston had decided he would feign illness and stay out of the path of everyone, at least until tonight. But there had been a sparkle in Lady Briston’s eyes and a flush in her cheeks that recalled Beryl’s comments about the passion of Lord and Lady Briston’s arguments. After last night, he could well understand it.

As for Camille, she was surprisingly cordial, as if nothing had happened between them at all. For his part, he wasn’t sure what to say to her either. Certainly, he was guilty of a certain amount of arrogance, of making assumptions he had no right to make. And once again, he had failed to tell her everything he should have. But he had decided he needed to do something about Pruzinsky, and he needed to do it as soon as possible. Then he would apologize and even grovel, if necessary.

He poured two glasses, handed one to Win and then settled in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. “You might as well sit down. There have been a number of unexpected plot twists.”

Win seated himself and chuckled. “The orphans.”

“The orphans were the least of it.” He cast the other man an admiring look. “Although I must admit, Carrolls for Christmas was rather brilliant.”

“I thought so.” Win grinned. “When I received your note asking for orphans, well, it was entirely too good to pass up.”

“It was, indeed. But the children weren’t the only unexpected additions to the cast.” He met his cousin’s gaze. “Lady Briston and Delilah returned home as well.”

“Perfect.” Win raised his glass. “Indeed, that’s how I would have written this farce.”

“And that’s not all.”

“Don’t tell me, let me guess.” Win’s brow furrowed as though deep in thought. “I know, Colonel Channing has returned as well.”

“Yes and no.” Gray sipped his whisky. “To Camille and Delilah, he is Colonel Channing. To the others, he is in the role of my father. However, in truth . . .” Gray paused for dramatic effect. “He is Lord Briston.”

Win scoffed. “Lord Briston is dead.”

“And damned healthy for a dead man.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Gray nodded.

“My God, it’s a Christmas miracle!” Win stared.

“It’s something all right, but I’m not sure ‘miracle’ is the right word.”

“You’re sure it’s him, though?”

“His wife is sure.”