“That’s something, at any rate. Very well, then.” She threw her hands up in resignation. She had been completely confident when she had first revealed her plan to Beryl. Now, however, it was only the first day and she was already beginning to note a flaw or two. Perhaps, before she said anything, it would be best to find out what he already knew. Or thought he knew.

“First, let me ask you this.” She adopted a casual tone. “What do you think I’ve gotten myself into?”

He laughed. “Camille, I had nearly forgotten how thoroughly delightful you can be.”

“I have no intention of being delightful to you,” she said in a lofty manner. “Thoroughly or otherwise.”

“Nor would I expect you to.” He grinned, straightened and started toward her. The last time he had crossed this room toward her, she had ended up in his arms; his lips had claimed hers for the first—and last—time. The memory of that single, unforgettable kiss swept through her, and it was all she could do to keep her knees from buckling. Blasted man!

Without thinking she took a step back. “What are you doing?”

He frowned. “What are you doing?”

She raised her chin. “Nothing, not a thing, nothing at all.”

He stared and then sucked in a sharp breath. “You thought I was going to kiss you, didn’t you?”

“No, of course not. Not for an instant.”

His eyes narrowed. “Because when we were last in this very room—”

“What utter nonsense, Grayson. You are entirely too full of yourself.” She waved off his comment. “Your kissing me was the last thing on my mind. Indeed, it wasn’t on my mind at all. Not that I would allow you to do so, anyway.”

“Excellent, as I have no intention of kissing you.” He shook his head. “I made that mistake once and I’ll not do it again.”

“Mistake?” she said without thinking.

He nodded. “It was presump—”

“No!” She shook her head and glared. “I have no desire to speak of that now. It’s been eleven years, Grayson. It’s in the past, and it does neither of us any good to dwell on what happened between us.” And what didn’t.

“Still”—he chose his words carefully—“as we were always friends, I have long thought I owed you an apology. My behav—”

“Accepted!” She drew a calming breath. “If that’s all, then—”

“It’s not.”

“I was afraid not.” She sank onto the sofa. “Very well. What do you think you know?”

“I know the woman who introduced herself as Lady Briston, Millicent—”

“Bernadette,” she said. “My mother’s name is Bernadette.”

“She didn’t seem to know that—this particular Lady Briston, that is. She appeared more than a little confused.”

“She has a problem remembering her lines,” she said under her breath.

“Then there was the young woman who claimed to be your sister Delilah.”