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“No, it’s because my great-great-great-grandfather’s family painter was a hack.”
We reach the group by the fire.
I greet them formally and bend down so that Mother can air-kiss my cheeks.
“Everyone, meet Camille, my betrothed,” I say smoothly before turning to her. “Camille, meet everyone.”
She waves at them. “Hi!”
In the awkward silence that follows, I focus on the mantel above the fire, where postcards, figurines, and hand-painted plates surround an antique clock.Ticktock. Ticktock.
Grandpa clears his throat. “I have already discussed the matter with each of you individually, but I wanted to have this conversation with all of you at the same time so that our stories don’t diverge.”
“It’s madness,” Mother mutters.
Grandpa turns to her. “Did you say something, Greta?”
“The part where you abdicate in favor of Louis, I understand and fully approve of,” she declares.
“Ha!” Father laughs from the couch. “Ha-ha!”
Mother glances at Camille. “But the condition that my son must marry the Trailer—er—Camille Mussey makes no sense, Your Grace.”
Jacques and Serafina nod, clearly in agreement. Father stares at the ceiling. Tate and the notary maintain poker faces.
“Why would you do that to your beloved grandson, Your Grace?” Mother implores. “Why would you impose such an ignominy on the next Duke of Arrago?”
Grandpa fixes her with a hard stare. “Are you suggesting I’ve lost my mind?”
“No, of course not,” Mother denies.
“His Grace’s mental faculties are intact,” the notary says. “We have certificates from three leading medical experts to that effect. I do not recommend challenging His Grace’s arrangements on those grounds.”
Mother glares at him. “How dare you? That thought never even crossed my mind.”
Yeah, right.
“My reasons for doing this are my own,” Grandpa says. “What I ask of you is that you tell no one that the marriage was contracted only because it was a sine qua non for Louis to accede to dukedom title, estate and money.”
Mother arches an eyebrow. “What will you have us tell people?”
Grandpa turns to me. “Suggestions? How would you explain away the suddenness of your marriage?”
“Um… I guess we could…” I glance at Camille, hoping for a helpful clue.
It would be hard to claim she dazzled me with her great beauty. Not that she’s ugly. At least, I don’t think so… from what I can see. She hides behind her crazy hair and imposing glasses that are too big for her face. Besides, she wears so many layers of clothing it’s impossible to discern her body shape.
“Louis is a big fan of pantomime,” Camille says, her voice drenched in sarcasm. “He respects and appreciates that art form enormously.”
You sneaky little thing!“It’s true. I do.”
“Three days ago, he saw my gig in Pombrio,” she continues. “My performance enthralled him.”
I give her a thumbs-up. “When I saw Camille dressed as Santa and standing perfectly still, that did it for me. I’d found my soulmate. I fell madly in love.”
“We both did, my darling.” She bares her teeth. “I’m just as partial to bespoke cashmere coats as you are to fake beards!”
“Twenty-four hours later, we were engaged,” I add.
