“And perhaps Shakespeare,” Beryl said. “That seems safe enough. Besides, we can’t be with them every minute. Like any good director of plays, you must step aside at some point and trust in your cast. They are professionals, after all.”

“One can only hope.”

“Even the food is better than expected.” Beryl filled her cup from the pot on the tea cart.

“The food is excellent,” Camille said with relief.

She had considered at least hiring a real cook, but Mr. Fortesque had assured her that his wife was a far better cook than she was an actress. While Mr. Fortesque’s troupe might not be the most accomplished actors in England, it was a relief to know he had been fairly accurate as to their abilities as servants. Although the very idea of former servants turned actors now in the role of servants made her head swim.

“All in all, I think it’s going quite smoothly.” A confident note sounded in Camille’s voice. She wondered where it came from.

“That alone should be cause for concern. As you noted, it is only the first day,” Beryl said wryly. “Still, no need to borrow trouble.”

“No, of course not.” Camille blew a long breath.

There would be trouble enough when their cousin returned. Why on earth Grayson had decided to become a part of all this was beyond her. No doubt he was just trying to be annoying, which then begged the question of why.

Her gaze settled on Nikolai. He was everything she’d ever wanted. Handsome and charming and perfect and, well, everything a prince should be. It was as if he had stepped directly from the pages of one of the fairy stories she’d devoured as a girl, tales of dashing princes rescuing fair maidens from fire-breathing dragons. But he was a real prince with a real kingdom and she was a grown woman now, a widow of independent means. Certainly not a fragile, delicate creature that needed to be rescued. Not by Grayson and not even by a prince, real or fictional.

Then why on earth was she so determined to have a prince at all? The thought popped into her head without warning.

“I met a grand duke once, you know,” Mrs. Montgomery-Wells’s words drifted across the room. “Charming man. Do you know him, Your Highness?”

“I cannot say,” Nikolai said with a smile. “There are any number of grand dukes, I should think. Which one are you speaking of?”

“Let me see.” Mrs. Montgomery-Wells frowned; then her expression brightened. “The tall one! That’s right, he was the tall one. Quite dashing, I must say.”

“Come now, Millicent,” Mr. Henderson chided.

“Bernadette,” Beryl said under her breath.

“Florence,” the older actress said.

“Are you sure?” Miss Murdock asked.

“Absolutely.” Mrs. Montgomery-Wells nodded. Camille winced.