Page 25 of A Lady’s Guide to Mystery and Mischief

“It is!” Farah dug her fingernails into the arm of her chair in excitement. “Would you be able to secure us invitations to Mrs. Ramsbury’s events?”

“Us? As in, yourself and Mr. Montgomery?”

“No,” Grey said.

“Yes!” Farah put in at exactly the same time.

A silence fell during which Dalia appeared to be suppressing a smile. Clearing her throat, she said, “I shall be quite happy to bring you both along as my guests. The ball is this Friday. As the name suggests, you will be expected to present in floral motifs.”

“How lucky I am to have such a wonderful aunt,” Farah said. The remark was directed toward Grey, who appeared rather put upon by Dalia’s description of the ball’s theme. “She’s invited everywhere.”

“Not everywhere,” Dalia demurred. “Just everywhere that matters.”

“And I couldn’t be more grateful for it.”

Dalia waved a dismissive hand. “There’s no need for any of that. Now, will you two be joining us outside?”

Farah, who was eager to keep moving, dipped her head in apology. “I’m afraid not. We really should be off.”

Grey shot up as if a fire had been lit beneath him. “I’ll fetch the carriage.”

The moment he disappeared, Farah found herself the recipient of a very pointed look.

“What?”

Dalia chuckled. “You have the poor man rattled that’s what.”

Rattled?

“Oh, he’s always like that,” Farah said. “It has nothing to do with me.”

“If you say so.” Dalia gave her a cheeky wink. “All I mean is that if you’re so eager to marry—”

In that moment, Farah felt the ghost of Grey’s hands around her waist, pressing into her soft skin. It was ridiculous, really, that her mind should even deign to think of him when she had resolved two years ago to see her understanding with Francis through.

She would see her understanding with Francis through.

“I don’t think Mr. Montgomery would have me,” she said with an airy laugh.

“Perhaps we ought to ask,” Dalia teased. “Go on, habibti. Your carriage awaits, and I shall see you Friday.”

Farah scrambled to her feet and pressed a quick kiss to Dalia’s cheek. Halfway to the entrance, she heard her aunt’s voice calling out, “Remember the theme!”

Chapter Six

Grey awoke with a headache.

Said headache followed him to Fleet Street, where he found the door to Hawkins & Montgomery unlocked. It would be just his luck if another burglary had taken place. Given the chance, Farah would want to play detective and attempt to solve this one, too.

Entering the hallway, he once again wondered how in the hell he had let her talk him into this ridiculous scheme. He wanted so badly not to give a damn about the missing money—it was Francis’s, after all—but he couldn’t. Not because he’d softened toward his cousin, but because of everything else. His firm. His grandmother.

His grandfather, for all that he’d died years ago.

Grey’s dour train of thought was interrupted by the sight of the waiting area. It had changed overnight—the chairs had been rearranged neatly against the walls, the abandoned papers on the desk had disappeared, and there wasn’t a speck of dust to be seen.

Only one person could be responsible for such a turnaround, but the office seemed unnervingly quiet. Maybe today wasn’t doomed after all. Maybe Farah had completed whatever tasks she’d assigned herself before deciding to leave him in—

“Good morning, Mr. Montgomery.” Farah’s head popped out from under the desk, scaring Grey half to death. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you!”