Four

Surely, her eyes were deceiving her. Or she’d gone mad. She stared at the figure standing in the parlor, in very much the same place where she’d last seen him. Yes, that was it. She was mad—quite, quite mad. Her scheme had completely destroyed her mind. They would be hauling her off to Bedlam at any—

“Camille?” the imaginary creature that looked suspiciously like Grayson Elliott said in a cautious manner. Of course he would be cautious, as she was so obviously mad.

She shook her head to clear it. Damnation, he was still there. “Grayson?”

“None other.”

A broad smile broke across his face, and the most absurd desire to dash across the room and into his arms gripped her. She ignored it.

“How very good to see you, Camille.”

“Is it?” She stepped into the room slowly, as if she were moving in a dream. A dream she had had before. There was indeed something not quite real about all this. He was the last person she expected, or wanted, to see now or ever again. He was a road not taken. Over and done with, and not to be considered again. Nonetheless, it—he—appar-ently was real. Grayson was here, looking every bit as wonderful as she remembered, with his dark eyes and dark hair and devastating smile, the smile which had once touched her heart. Not that it mattered at the moment. She drew a deep breath. Time enough later to examine the unexpected emotions coursing through her. “What are you doing here?”

He chuckled. “My aunt sent a basket of Cook’s baked goods to welcome your family back to Millworth Manor.”

“How very kind of her.” She glanced around the room. “Where is it?”

“I gave it to your”—his eyes narrowed slightly—“butler.”

“Ah, well, then . . .” She wasn’t sure why he was still here. She wasn’t sure how she felt about him being here at all. All she was certain of was that she wanted him to leave. At once, if not sooner. “Do give my thanks to Lady Fairborough. If that’s all—”

“What happened to Clement?” he asked abruptly.

“Gone.” She said the first thing that came into her head.

“My condolences.” Sympathy showed in his eyes. “Hard to imagine he’s gone. He was such a fixture here.”

“He’s not dead. He’s gone to Wales. To be with his family.” It was true, as far as it went, although it made no sense for the butler to be gone when the house was full. “He retired,” she added as an afterthought. Oh yes, that made it plausible.

“I see,” he said slowly. “You must miss him.”

“We do,” she said with a firm nod. “He was a part of the family. And an excellent butler.”