“Excellent.” He grinned and his gaze caught hers. For a long moment, neither said a word. His hand still held hers across the table. Something nearly palpable wrapped around them. Something intense and unrelenting, pulling them closer. For one wild instant, an image flashed through her mind of his dragging her onto the table and ravishing her amidst the breakfast dishes and beneath the hundred-year-old chandelier commissioned for Millworth Manor by a long-forgotten ancestor. The two of them mad with passion and lost in desire. The chandelier above them quivered, and the table rocked and creaked, and—

“Camille?”

Camille started and yanked her hand from his. “What?”

Concern shadowed his brown eyes. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Quite. Of course.” She nodded vigorously. “Never better.”

“Did you hear me?”

“Every word.”

“Then after you.” He gestured toward the door.

“To . . .”

“The attic?” He studied her closely. “Are you sure you’re all right? You had the oddest look on your face a minute ago.”

“Did I?” Without thinking she glanced at the chandelier. “It was the . . . something I ate, I think.”

“You do look a bit flushed. Perhaps you should rest—”

“Don’t be silly, I’m fine.” She turned and started toward the stairs. He followed a half step behind.

Goodness, what was wrong with her? All that nonsense about ravishment and desire and passion. Whatever would have made her think such things? Why, she didn’t even like the man. No doubt it was simply that last night he had brought back all sorts of memories and then he had kissed her. And kissed her quite thoroughly too. A kiss that worked its way into her dreams in those few moments last night when she’d managed to sleep at all. But she’d vanquished all dreams of his kiss years ago and she was not about to let one unguarded moment put it back in her head.

Nor was she about to let him snatch Mrs. Fortesque out from under her nose. She hadn’t the least doubt she could win Mrs. Fortesque. But first, she had to win Mr. Fortesque. She had no worries about that either.

She led Grayson to the back stairway in the center section of the house. The manor was divided into three separate areas. The upper floors of the west wing, the oldest part of the house, were devoted mostly to bed chambers and was little used in the colder months, unless there were a great number of guests visiting. The top floors of the east wing housed the servants’ quarters and the old nursery. The attic at the top of the main portion of the house was reserved for storage. They ran into no one on the stairs—not surprising, as the number of actors/servants she had hired was less than half the usual staff.

“I was wondering,” Grayson said on the stairs behind her as they approached the attic door, “why have Christmas here?”