“I see.” He studied her closely. It had been a long time, but once he had known her as well as he knew himself. And right now, she was not being completely honest with him or perhaps with herself. Or, more than likely, both. “Well, then, Camille, if he is what you want—”

“He is,” she said staunchly.

“Then I shall do everything I can to assure your success.”

Suspicion sounded in her voice. “Why?”

“Because . . .” He blew a long breath. “All I have ever wanted was your happiness.”

She stared at him for a moment. “Come now, Grayson, if you truly meant that, you would leave.”

“Oh, I can’t possibly leave now.” He shook his head. “Your long-lost cousin leaving before Christmas? What would your prince think?”

“I shall tell him you were called away. Some sort of emergency.”

“A monetary crisis, no doubt.” A wry note sounded in his voice.

She ignored it. “Perhaps not, but something equally plausible.” Speculation flashed in her eyes. “Will you? Leave, that is?”

“Oh, I wish I could, but . . .” He shook his head in a mournful manner. “I wouldn’t miss Christmas at Millworth Manor for anything in the world.”

“Imagine my surprise.” She studied him closely. “Do I have your word you won’t muck this up? That you will indeed help and not hinder my efforts? That you will act as a member of the family and behave accordingly?”

“Given the family members I have met thus far—”

“Grayson!”

“You have my word.” He nodded in a solemn manner.

“Regardless, I don’t trust you.”

He gasped. “I am nothing if not trustworthy.”

“Hah!” She heaved a resigned sigh. “I really have no choice in this, do I?”

He grinned. “None whatsoever.”

“Very well, then.” She smiled although the look in her eye was anything but welcoming. “Welcome home, Cousin.”

“Excellent.” He started toward the door. “I will fetch my bags and explain this interesting turn of events to Win and my uncle—”

“No!”

He turned back. “I have to say something to explain my absence.”

“But you can’t tell them the truth. Say anything but the truth.” Her gaze met his. “If you truly want to help me, start here. I cannot have the entire world knowing about this.”

“You’re right, of course.” He nodded. “I shall try to think of something believable.” He paused. “Perhaps a monetary crisis . . .”

“Get out!”

He laughed. “I shall return in time for tea.”

“Oh, good, I was worried,” she muttered.

He opened the door, then turned back to her. “Camille?”

“What now?” she snapped.

“Why are you so angry with me?” he asked quietly.

“Why? Aside from the fact that you have claimed to be a relation and are preparing to move into my mother’s house and make my life difficult? For Christmas?” She huffed. “I can’t imagine why that would anger me.”

“No.” He shook his head. “You were angry with me before that.”