Page 102 of A Lady’s Guide to Mystery and Mischief

Hell, he would do that now, for all that they were two mortals wrapped up together in his overdecorated parlor.

“Oh, Grey,” she murmured, running her fingers through his hair. “I hope at least a few of those tears are happy.”

He lifted his head, surprised at himself for having the courage after such a show of vulnerability. “What do you need?”

She continued to run her fingers through his hair, the motion as relaxing as it was electrifying. “What do you mean?”

“You asked me to help you with Helena,” he said, still clinging to her waist. “Whatever you need, whatever you want, I will do.”

She knit her brow in concern. “I do hope you’re not offering your help in some attempt to repay me because I won’t have any of that.”

“Not at all.” He rested his forehead against her middle once more with a tired sigh. “You were right in saying that she deserves our aid.”

She came alive with elation. “Oh, I knew you would help!” A beat, then, “Not to bring you to tears again, but we still need two thousand pounds.”

He laughed, the sound hoarse to his ears. “A trip to the bank will solve that issue.”

“I’m glad to hear it. But before we do anything,” she said, “we must go to Helena. That is of utmost importance.”

Which only meant more waiting, but the magic he’d created would hold. There was no force on Earth that could shake what he’d built, especially now.

“How shall we do it?”

“It’ll be easy, especially as we have Kalila and Oliver on our side,” she began, returning to her too-far-away seat across from him. She laid out the plan in painstaking, focused detail as Grey both listened and watched. What an honor it must be, he thought, to be chosen by Farah Rafiq. He thought about all the years she’d spent waiting for someone to choose her, as puzzled as he’d been the first day they’d met that it hadn’t happened within the first few seconds of her decision to seek out love herself. Something in her had mistakenly led her to believe she was unremarkable—something that could not be convinced by a loving family or comfortable upbringing.

Being surrounded by perfect, wholly realized love was, perhaps, not ideal when one was waiting for it to come one’s way. And yet, she had come out of it determined instead of envious. But her determination had only gone so far—as soon as she’d decided that Grey, too, was important to her, she had tossed it all aside.

She had, in a way, already chosen him.

“All in all, very simple,” she declared with an excited clap. “We may very well put everything into motion tomorrow night if we can secure her passage to France. I’ll send you a note with the details as soon as I’m sure of them.”

“And after that?” he asked, wondering what she would choose for herself if she allowed herself to be selfish—properly selfish in a way that would prevent her from derailing her plans in favor of seeking happiness for the people around her.

“After that, we go to the bank,” she chirped. “And then we’ll all be happy. The end!”

As Grey listened to her laughter, he realized that, for the first time, the phrase that usually closed a book seemed to him a very hopeful opening.

And it would start with magic.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Farah stifled a yawn with a gloved hand as the carriage she sat in tripped and rolled over a bumpy road. Helena sat beside her, gripping her carpet bag close to her chest, the nausea that always haunted her in moving vehicles plain on her face. Grey sat across from them, striking Farah as the most alert passenger of the three of them. He had his arms folded across his chest, his devastatingly beautiful eyes glued to the window in spite of there being nothing to admire at such a late hour. Something in her sensed that he wanted to say something but was choosing against it. And although she was curious, she was far more consumed with what she wanted to tell Grey after their return to London. She no longer wanted to wait for the perfect moment—indeed, it seemed every moment they were together had some glimmer of perfection to it.

And it was so hard not to blurt it out. She’d almost done so two nights ago, when she’d held him in Montgomery House. She was honored that he’d allowed his emotions to surface in her presence, that such trust and safety existed between them. Settling for anything less would have been a mistake.

The slowing of the carriage informed Farah of their arrival at their destination. Peeking out of the window, she saw a small inn, its doors bracketed by two weakly glowing gas lamps. They moved in silence, none of them saying a word. Despite having accepted what was to come, Farah hesitated.

This was right, but it didn’t make her heart any less prone to breaking. Helena would no longer be a carriage ride away. Farah could no longer pop into town on a whim to visit.

And yet, part of loving was sacrifice. And Farah would sacrifice anything to help her friend find happiness again.

When her feet were finally on solid ground, she noticed Kalila and Oliver’s carriage waiting a few paces away. Grey and the coachman began their transfer of Helena’s trunks—which had been smuggled out of the Jennings’s residence over several days—as she and Farah shivered in the cool nighttime breeze.

“I cannot thank you enough for this,” Helena whispered.

“Do not thank me,” Farah replied with a wry grin. “My idea of having you climb out of your window almost ended in a broken ankle.”

Helena laughed, careful to keep the sound low. “But it didn’t.”