“I like turkey,” Gray said in a helpful manner.

“No one cares what you like. You were not invited.” Camille pinned Gray with a firm look. “However, I do expect you to make yourself useful tomorrow. And you may do so by engaging Nikolai in some sort of manly, out-of-doors pursuit.”

“I could take him out and shoot him,” Gray said under his breath.

Beryl choked back a laugh.

“I was not going to suggest shooting, as you will more than likely have Mr. Henderson with you and I’m not at all sure you wish to give him a gun.” Camille glared. “Do you?”

He chuckled. “Perhaps not.”

“I thought not. But you once knew this estate as well as your own family’s property. Perhaps you can take exercise together. A lengthy walk should do nicely and occupy most of the morning.”

“It’s rather cold for a long walk.”

“Then you shall have to walk briskly. It will do you good.”

“We could look for a tree,” Gray offered.

“Not necessary.” Camille waved off his suggestion. “Before I sent the gardener off on holiday, he selected a tree and arranged for a boy from the village to cut it and deliver it on the day before Christmas. Decorating it should take much of the day and then we shall gracefully slide into Christmas Eve. After that is Christmas Day, which shall take care of itself, followed by Boxing Day, which will be interrupted by news of a monetary crisis.”

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” Admiration sounded in Gray’s voice. He was right; she was not the same girl he once knew.

“Nearly everything.” Camille raised a brow. “Surprised?”

He grinned. “Shocked.”

She ignored him. “I suggest your walk tomorrow takes you down to the pond. If it’s frozen, we could skate in the afternoon. I’m sure Nikolai would adore that and it would nicely fill the rest of the day.” She nodded. “And tomorrow night after dinner, we shall play games. Cards perhaps or charades, something along those lines.”

“I do so love organized activities,” Beryl said wryly.

Camille scoffed. “You always have.”

“Is that it, then?” Miss Murdock called from across the room. “Are we done for tonight?” Her gaze flicked to Gray. “I know I am ready to retire.”

“Not yet.” Camille crossed the room and tugged at the bell pull. Fortesque appeared almost at once. The man had probably been listening at the door. Camille directed him a firm look. “Your troupe, Fortesque, needs further rehearsal.”

“I thought we did quite well,” Mrs. Montgomery-Wells said in an aside to Gray. “She’s very fussy, isn’t she?”

“You have no idea,” Beryl said.

“You.” Camille pinned the older woman with a hard look. “Need to remember your name.”

“I know my name.” Mrs. Montgomery-Wells picked at invisible threads on the arm of her chair.

Camille’s eyes narrowed. “Then what is it?”