“Yes, my lady.” Fortesque’s jaw tightened, but his tone was eminently proper. “Your presence is required elsewhere.”

“Is it, indeed?” She cast the butler what could only be described as a saucy look. Who was this woman?

“Yes, my lady,” he said in an overly stern manner. “Elsewhere. At once.”

“To meet the prince, no doubt.” She leaned toward Gray confidentially. “I haven’t met him yet, but I understand he’s very handsome and quite taken with one of the blond daughters. I’m not sure which.”

Gray drew his brows together. “What prince?”

“At once, Lady Briston,” the butler said again.

“Oh, well, then.” Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “I shall make my exit with the grace and dignity befitting my position.” With that, she raised her chin and fairly floated out of the room, Fortesque a step behind.

Gray stared after them. Perhaps that was one of the odd guests who were so often to be found residing at Millworth Manor. Still, he was certain few of them believed themselves to be Lady Briston.

A young woman passed by the doorway, casting an absent glance in his direction. Less than a moment later, she reappeared and favored him with an interested smile.

“Good day.”

Her hair was a vivid shade of dark red and she was extremely pretty, with large doelike brown eyes and an exceptional figure.

He smiled. “Good day.”

She studied him curiously. “Are you another one of the players?”

“The players?”

“Mr. Fortesque said he might have to hire additional players, as this house is so very large and requires a fair number of servants.” Her gaze wandered over him in an assessing manner. “I must say, you’re handsome enough, even if you are entirely too well dressed for an actor, especially one who might take this role. It’s not as if this was Covent Garden, after all. You certainly don’t look as if you are here for the money.” She considered him closely. “No, you look as if you have money.”

He chuckled. “I shall have to do something about that.”

“Oh no,” she said quickly. “It’s always better to look as if you don’t need money than you do.”

“I shall keep that in mind.”

“The pay is better than usual here, probably because we are all sworn to secrecy under threat of legal action. Indeed, I should hate to cross Lady Lydingham.” She shuddered. “I think the woman would track us to the ends of the earth if we were to cross her, and God knows she has the money to do so. Nonetheless, one can always use more performing experience, so keeping one’s mouth shut is a small price to pay. Besides, this is a pleasant enough place to spend Christmas, and—” She sucked in a sharp breath and her eyes widened. “Oh, dear Lord, you’re not the prince, are you? Please say you’re not the prince.”