“I daresay, there are any number of people we all remember.” Camille waved off her sisters’ comments and turned her attention back to her mother. “The point is, I was concerned with what you, what we, aren’t rather than what we are. What you are. I never should have been anything but proud. You were always willing to welcome those souls who had lost their place in the world into ours.”

Her mother continued to place the precious glass ornaments carefully on the tree; her words were measured. “I have always thought that should I lose my place in the world, my position, my home, even my country, I would hope there would be someone willing to accept me into their lives. Especially at Christmas. If only for a short time.” She shook her head. “I will not apologize for that.”

Camille swallowed hard and nodded.

“But you also mentioned the parade of lovers.” She met Camille’s gaze directly. “I never flaunted them. I never displayed undue affection in front of you. In truth, I was most discreet and most selective.” She narrowed her eyes. “I daresay, you have no idea how many, if any, I actually took to my bed. Nor is it any of your concern.”

“Mother—”

“I would think at this point in your life, Camille, you would understand that there are moments when loneliness is an ache somewhere in the vicinity of your heart that cannot be eased, despite the presence of friends and family.” She gazed at her daughter for a long moment. “Do you? Understand, that is?”

“I think so.” Camille nodded. Indeed, hadn’t she felt it herself? An ache, a longing, a need that woke her in the night reaching for something or someone just out of reach.

Grayson.

She couldn’t get him out of her thoughts today. But then through the years of her marriage and the years since, no matter how hard she had tried to put him out of her head, he had always lingered in the dim recesses of her mind and her heart. At once, she realized what she should have known from the beginning. Wasn’t that the way with true love?

“Camille?”

“Yes?” Her attention snapped back to her mother.

Mother studied her curiously. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, of course.” Camille nodded. “My apologies. A random thought. Nothing of significance . . .”

“I should apologize to you as well, I suppose, for being short-tempered. Not for the way I have lived my life, mind you,” Lady Briston added quickly. “Although . . .” The oddest look of indecision washed across her face. “Admittedly, I have not always made the right decisions. There are perhaps one or two things I have done in the past—”

“Mother.” A warning sounded in Beryl’s voice.

“That, while I thought were for the best, might, in hindsight, be considered, oh, I don’t know, unforgivable.”

Camille stared. “ ‘Unforgivable’?”