Page 23 of A Lady’s Guide to Mystery and Mischief

“Oh, you must.” She twinkled at him. “In fact, you’re welcome to visit Northborough whenever you please.”

Grey, who was apparently hellbent on ruining his own day, asked, “Has Francis visited?”

An awkward pause fell before she replied. “He has not. But he’s quite eager to. He said so in one of his letters. ‘Dear Miss Rafiq, I should love to visit your family home.’ That’s what he wrote. Verbatim.”

“Miss Rafiq?” Grey echoed. “He calls you Miss Rafiq?”

“Is there something wrong with that?” she asked. “He’s meant to call me Miss Rafiq. For the time being, at least.”

Francis was meant to call her Miss Rafiq, yes. But Grey knew, without a doubt, that he would be tempted to skirt around the very edge of impropriety with the woman sitting before him. He would call her Farah every time they found themselves alone.

He would call her Farah in dark corners and shadowy alcoves.

In fact, he would think of her as Farah from this point onward, if only because Francis was too much of an uninspired coward to do it himself.

“You call him Francis,” Grey pointed out.

Farah raised a hand to her mouth, as if realizing the error of her ways for the first time. “I suppose I do.”

The carriage began to roll along at a steady pace before Grey could question her further.

“Oh, good, we’re moving,” Farah said, as though Grey hadn’t felt it himself. “You’ll love Willow House.”

“I don’t even know what a Willow House is,” he said, fighting a sudden flood of irritation.

“It’s my aunt’s house!” she exclaimed. Grey listened as she began to dissect her family tree with great energy, one thought front and center in his mind: he would not be able to stand a month of this.

Which, for all he knew, was exactly what Francis had been counting on.

*

Beautiful, socially adept, clever women.

Farah sighed as the words rolled over in her mind. She stood by Mr. Montgomery at the entrance to Willow House, waiting to be let in. There was no doubt that they painted a comical picture, given the top of her head only just reached his shoulders.

If you’ve been unfairly characterized, it’s been by people who don’t understand you.

How peculiar it was for those words to mean so much. Farah had never considered herself difficult to understand. But if what Mr. Montgomery said was true, then perhaps all of her bad luck in love had been due to a lack of it.

When she glanced at Mr. Montgomery, she found that he was already looking at her. Grey suited him, she thought, struck by the intensity of his gaze for the umpteenth time. It was a fine name—a name that would have to be relegated to her private thoughts, even if she was tempted to say it aloud.

He turned to the door. “Does your aunt always leave you out on the doorstep like this?”

Farah bit her lip. “No, never. Perhaps we ought to check around back.”

“Around back?” Grey followed Farah as she walked down the steps to circle the vast property. When they arrived at the high, ivy-covered wall that separated them from the garden, the sound of laughter reached Farah’s ears. It shouldn’t have surprised her—there was always something happening at Willow House.

“All we need to do is get my aunt’s attention,” she said with a reassuring smile.

“And how do you propose we do that?”

Farah hummed as she thought, tapping her chin with a single finger. Knowing her aunt, she had the entirety of the household out in the garden with her in an attempt to convince them to join in whatever event she’d decided to haphazardly throw together.

Making quick work of assessing the wall, Farah noticed it really wasn’t that much taller than her companion. And a quick glance at their surroundings told her they were very much alone.

“Perhaps you could lift me up.” The suggestion came with a burst of uncharacteristic shyness. “That way, I’ll be able to call my aunt over.”

Grey raised a single eyebrow at her. “Lift you up.”