What Happens At Christmas by Victoria Alexander

Grayson’s back?”
    â€œExactly what I said.” Camille drew a deep breath. “He’s back from wherever it is he has been—”
    â€œAmerica,” Beryl murmured.
    â€œHe was here. He met the prince and he introduced himself as . . .” Camille could barely say the words aloud. “As our cousin.”
    Beryl gasped. “Our what?”
    â€œYou heard me.” Camille groaned. “He said he was our cousin, come to join us for Christmas.”
    â€œGood Lord.” Beryl stared. “Where is he now?”
    â€œHe left to fetch his bags.” Camille rubbed her forehead. When had her head started to ache? No doubt the same moment she had looked into the parlor and seen Grayson. It would have been so much easier had she simply been mad.
    â€œHe wouldn’t want to miss tea.” The corners of Beryl’s lips twitched.
    â€œGo on, then,” Camille said sharply. “Say whatever it is you’re thinking. I know you want to. You can barely restrain yourself.”
    â€œI . . .” Beryl shook her head, then burst into laughter. Long, hard and totally inappropriate hilarity.
    Camille folded her arms over her chest and glared at her twin.
    â€œI am sorry.” Beryl could barely choke out the words through her laughter. Camille’s jaw clenched. “But you must admit, the addition of your long-lost love—” “He most certainly is not!”
    Beryl ignored her. “Grayson’s involvement completes the cast in a manner that, well . . .” Again she shook with uncontrollable mirth.
    â€œThis is not amusing!”
    â€œNo.” Beryl sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Of course not.” She inhaled a steadying breath and made an obvious attempt to control herself. “So what do you intend to do about our cousin?”
    â€œNothing.” Camille shook her head. “There’s nothing I can do, really. He has already introduced himself as our cousin.”
    â€œHow did this happen?”
    â€œI’m not entirely sure. He met Mrs. Montgomery-Wells, who apparently does not know her first name. And then Miss Murdock thought he was another actor and confided everything. And one thing led to another. . . .” She heaved a heartfelt sigh. “But he has promised to behave accordingly and to lend me his assistance as well.”
    â€œHas he?”
    â€œHe seems quite sincere.”
    â€œNo doubt.”
    Camille narrowed her eyes. “What are you thinking now?”
    â€œNothing, darling, nothing at all. Except . . . perhaps . . .”
    â€œYes?”
    Beryl grinned. “I’m just dying to see what the next act in your little Christmas pageant will reveal.”
    â€œAs am I, Beryl.” A grim note sounded in Camille’s voice. “As am I.”

Six
    â€œP rescott,” Grayson called the moment he strode through the doors of Fairborough Hall.
    â€œYes, sir?” The butler appeared at once, seemingly from nowhere. Gray bit back a grin. Fortesque could take lessons from Prescott. “Have my bags been unpacked?”
    â€œI believe so, sir.”
    â€œIn that case, please have one repacked.”
    â€œVery well.” Prescott paused. “Are you leaving again so soon, sir?”
    â€œJust for a few days. I’ll be staying at Millworth Manor.”
    â€œAh yes, of course, sir,” the older man said in a sage manner. Odd, but then Prescott’s comportment often implied vast wisdom, as if he knew everything. Admittedly, he usually did, at least when it pertained to the Elliott household.
    â€œMy cousin?”
    â€œThe library, sir.”
    â€œExcellent.” Gray nodded and turned toward the library.
    Win stood in the open doorway, leaning against the doorjamb, arms folded over his chest. “What do you mean, you’re staying at Millworth Manor?”
    â€œI mean”—he waved his cousin into the library, joined him, then closed the door behind