“Mrs. Montgomery-Wells, Mr. Henderson and Miss Murdock are playing a game of cards in the parlor. Nikolai said he had pressing correspondence to attend to and would be in his rooms.”

Indeed, Nikolai had confided this was of great importance and had to do with the problems in his country. Camille prayed it wasn’t overly serious. Through the years, she had met far too many of her mother’s acquaintances who had lost home and country to wish that for Nikolai. Although she did rather hope that it was urgent enough for him to feel he needed to return at once to the Kingdom of Whateveritwas. Christmas, indeed life, would be so much less complicated that way.

“Grayson is in the library with his cousin.” She drew a deep breath. “Frankly, I’m rather glad it’s just the four of us.”

“Because that went so well yesterday?” Beryl said sweetly.

“No, because I owe you all an apology.” She shook her head. “You are the dearest people in the world to me, and I shouldn’t have been so short-tempered. Delilah”—she met her younger sister’s gaze directly—“I am sorry that I said you were stuffy.”

“Oh, but I am stuffy, and no one is more aware of that than I.” Delilah shrugged. “And, as I am, I must admit it is the tiniest bit amusing to watch a tart pretend to be me. As long as no one ever knows about it,” she added quickly.

“In that, we are in complete agreement. I don’t even want to think of the gossip, should this Christmas production of mine be made public.” Camille shuddered.

“However”—Delilah’s gaze met hers—“as much as I do wish we were not involved in a debacle that threatens to come down around our heads at any moment and ruin us all, and I do blame you, I am rather, well, pleased that you’ve included me.”

Camille stared.

“Was that an apology?” Beryl asked.

“The thought had crossed my mind that you might simply . . . well . . .” Delilah cringed. “Lock me in the attic.”

Beryl gasped. “Never!”

“And I do apologize for saying that you don’t think things through before plunging into—”

“Chaos?” Beryl suggested, then glanced at Camille and heaved a resigned sigh. “And I know you hate to have your past mistakes thrown back in your face—”

“Like Brighton,” Delilah suggested in what was obviously meant to be a helpful manner. Camille resisted the urge to wince.

“It was extremely unkind of me,” Beryl continued. “So you have my apologies as well. And I am so trying to be a better person.”

Camille bit back a laugh. “Thank you, Beryl. I know how difficult it is for you to admit you possibly might have been wrong.”

“It is indeed, as I am so rarely wrong.” Beryl heaved an overly dramatic sigh and rested the back of her hand against her forehead in a manner worthy of any actress.