“We just have to get through Christmas, Beryl.” Camille paced the room. “Just Christmas. A traditional, Mr. Dickens’s Christmas, with a proper English family. That’s all. Certainly, I had planned to stay here through Twelfth Night, but I can see now that might be a mistake. Of course one never knows.” She cast her sister an optimistic look. “This might go much better than anticipated.”

“It would have to.”

Camille paused in midstep and glared. “Thank you for your support.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yes, and I am indeed grateful for that. And Lionel is still coming as well?”

Beryl nodded. “Yes, but probably not until Christmas Eve. He is a very busy man, you know. And he does hate to be away from London for any length of time. But once I explained the circumstances . . .” She chuckled. “He has a better sense of the absurd than I give him credit for. He said he wouldn’t miss it.”

“Wonderful. Very well, then.” Camille resumed pacing. “I shall come up with some reason why we must return to London at once. You can help me with that. You can be quite devious when you wish.”

“Thank you.”

“Perhaps we could arrange . . .” Camille thought for a moment. “I know! A telegram from his country calling him home.”

“How on earth would we do that?”

“Oh, it wouldn’t really be from . . . from . . . oh, wherever it is.”

“Do try to remember the name of his country, Camille.” Beryl shook her head. “It’s rude to become the princess of a country whose name you can’t recall.”

“As I cannot recall it, it’s difficult now to fit asking what it is into the conversation.”

“Even so—”

“Regardless.” Camille pinned her sister with a firm look. “I think sending a telegram insisting he return home is a brilliant idea. A crisis of some sort, I would think. Now, what sort of crisis . . .” Her mind raced. “I suppose a declaration of war on the Kingdom of Whatever would be extreme?”

Beryl grimaced. “Probably.”

“Then perhaps—”

“Monetary,” Beryl said abruptly.

“ ‘Monetary’?”

Beryl nodded sagely. “Tiny countries are always having monetary crises of one sort of another.”

“It sounds rather dull.”

“It can be, which is what makes it perfect for your purposes. A monetary crisis is at once vague and threatening.”

“Excellent.” Camille beamed. “Then we shall lure him back to his country with the report of a monetary crisis. Although . . .” She frowned. “I should hate to worry him unduly.”

“That’s the lovely thing about monetary crises. If his country’s economy is stable, it’s a momentary problem. If not, well . . .” Beryl shrugged. “If not, he shouldn’t be traipsing across England in the first place.”