Page 11 of A Lady’s Guide to Mystery and Mischief

“I think Francis sent her in a bid to have his inheritance released.”

His grandmother’s face fell. “Why would any woman in her right mind agree to such a thing?”

Grey shrugged, reaching for another roll. “She says she loves him. He needs some kind of income before they can wed.”

“I find it very hard to believe that anybody could love Francis,” Leila said in a matter-of-fact tone Grey knew well. “Did you talk her out of it? Save the young lady from herself?”

“I refused to stray from the terms of the will.”

“I see.” She returned to her breakfast. A beat, then, “Did you think I wouldn’t notice your decision to ignore my asking after her beauty? You insult me, Peregrine.”

“Her appearance is irrelevant,” Grey countered. “Beautiful or not, I’ve no doubt she’ll be back today. I don’t think she’s used to not having her way.”

“Neither is Francis,” Leila said with a disdainful sniff. “I blame your grandfather, of course.”

So did Grey. He’d grown up here at Montgomery House when fever had taken the lives of both his parents. According to the family patriarch, Grey was too much—too big, too rough, too different. Compared to Francis, he wasn’t as refined, wasn’t as invested in learning the ways of proper gentlemen. During Francis’s summer visits, Grey had been forced to bite his tongue as his grandfather compared the two of them—with his cousin always coming out on top.

Even after all that had occurred between them, the blame had been placed on Grey. Never mind that Francis had betrayed the rules of the—

It didn’t matter.

His grandmother had been his saving grace from the moment he’d laid eyes on her as a child. Together, they had weathered the unpredictable storm that was George Montgomery until he’d finally, blessedly passed.

“You have time for a walk through the garden,” Leila announced, pulling Grey out of his sullen reverie.

He glanced at his pocket watch, inclined, as always, to humor her. “I do. Shall we?”

Rounding the table, he offered her his arm and took them outside. It was a beautiful, overgrown mess. He loved this place, loved what they’d made of Montgomery House in the time since George’s death.

If Francis ever tried to lay claim over it, Grey would have to seriously consider killing him.

“Perhaps you could talk this Miss Rafiq into marrying you, instead,” Leila suggested, glancing up at Grey through the corner of her eye.

Grey snorted. “Yes, I’m sure Francis’s complete opposite would be a perfectly logical second choice for her.”

“Goodness knows what your brainless cousin has told her,” Leila said. “It’s unlikely she has the faintest understanding of his true nature.”

Grey thought back to Miss Rafiq’s declaration of love, to how unnatural it had sounded. “Perhaps.”

“You deserve a bit of happiness, Peregrine.” Leila led them to a stone bench. It sat beneath a weeping willow, offering them a serene view of the rest of the compact garden.

“I am happy,” Grey said, the words a bit too sharp.

His grandmother’s response was simple, “No, you aren’t.”

Grey turned to face her. “Yes, I am. Of course I am.”

“You’ve never stopped to ask yourself what might have happened had you won the girl five years ago?”

“No. And I’ll ask that you stop bringing it up.”

Leila heaved a sigh. “You’re going to have to talk about it one day.”

“I disagree.”

They sat in silence, enjoying the view of the gently swaying plants. Not for the first time, Grey thanked his lucky stars that his grandfather and cousin had never discovered his penchant for soft petals and greenery. He’d have never heard the end of it.

Leila broke the silence. “How will you be rid of Miss Rafiq today?”