“Do keep in mind, Lady Lydingham, that expertise on the stage takes years to develop. And furthermore, you gave us very little time to rehearse.”

“Even so, Mr. Fortesque—”

“Just Fortesque, my lady, I am in character,” he said in a lofty manner.

“You are insane is what you are!”

He gasped. “I daresay—”

“No, Fortesque, my apologies.” She heaved a frustrated sigh. “I am the one who is obviously quite mad to think for a moment that we could pull off this farce.”

“Lady Lydingham.” He drew himself up and stared down his nose at her. “I have never abandoned a performance before the final act. However, if you are unhappy, you may pay us what we agreed upon and we shall take our leave.”

“Oh no, you won’t.” She shook her head. “We are indeed in this together until the final curtain falls, if, of course, you do wish to be paid.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Very well.”

“But after dinner, when the rest of us have retired, you will take your principal players and rehearse them again. Especially Mrs. Montgomery-Wells.”

“I shall see what can be done to improve her performance. And that of the others,” he added.

“Thank you.”

“And what of your cousin?”

“Have a room prepared for him. As far away from my rooms as possible.” She thought for a moment. “Put him in the west wing. It’s the oldest part of the house, lovely in the summer but quite drafty in the winter, and the heating has always been insufficient. That should serve him well.”

“Now, now,” a familiar voice sounded behind her. “That certainly isn’t in the spirit of Christmas.”

She spun around to find Grayson grinning with amusement, accompanied by his equally smug cousin. She narrowed her gaze. “What are you doing here?”

“I have come to offer my assistance,” Lord Stillwell said in a gracious manner, which nonetheless set her teeth on edge.

“Why?” she snapped.

Stillwell paused. “Let us just say it is in the manner of a debt long overdue.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Indeed, on those rare occasions in the last eleven years when she and Stillwell had crossed paths, he had treated her with as much disdain as she had treated him.

“Nor do you need to.” Stillwell cast her the engaging smile she remembered from years ago. It struck her that he was a casualty of the rift between her and Grayson. A pity, really; he had always been most amusing and she had always liked him. “The past is over and done with, and I am here to lend whatever help you may need. In the spirit of friendship and, of course, Christmas.”

She studied him suspiciously. “I don’t trust you, my lord.”

Grayson chuckled.

Stillwell gasped in feigned dismay. “That’s not at all fair, Lady Lydingham.” He grinned. “Wise perhaps, but not fair.”