Page 26 of A Lady’s Guide to Mystery and Mischief

“What in the hell are you doing down there?”

“Cleaning, of course,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. When she straightened, he saw that she’d tied a white apron over her coral dress.

“And how, may I ask, did you let yourself in this morning?”

She disappeared underneath the desk again, her voice muffled. “I found your secretary’s old key in a drawer last time I was here, so I borrowed it.”

Grey heaved an exasperated sigh as he moved past her into his office only to be stopped dead in his tracks by the sight of a vase of flowers on his desk. Standing motionless in the doorway, he took in the carelessly arranged bouquet, a shock of color against the dull furnishings. His heart squeezed in his chest as he entered the room to hang up his hat and coat.

“Do you like them?” Farah asked, coming to stand by the entrance. She wiped her hands on her already dust-streaked apron.

In a desperate bid at nonchalance, he asked, “Where did they come from?”

“I took them from Helena’s garden.” Pausing, she shook her head. “But you have no idea who she is, of course. She’s who I’m staying with.”

“I see.” Grey settled behind his desk. “Is this your attempt at decoration?”

“Not at all,” was her bright response. Grey couldn’t decide if it was worse to look at her or the flowers that were currently wreaking havoc on his composure. “They’re for you. A thank you for agreeing to my proposal.”

Proposal.

“I’ve never received flowers before,” he said, unable to stop the soft words from tumbling out of his mouth.

Farah stepped into the room to run her fingers over the colorful petals. “I know it’s a little unusual, but I’d already given you one of my ointments, so—” Her eyes met his over the flowers. “Have you started using it at all? The ointment, I mean.”

“I have,” he said, wishing he knew why this conversation, for all the substance it lacked, seemed to be affecting him so.

She clasped her hands together in excitement. “That’s wonderful. Of course, it’s too early for you to really be feeling anything, but—”

Was it?

Don’t do this to yourself.

Farah was interrupted by the delicate sound of a bell coming from the waiting area. She straightened and made quick work of removing her apron.

Pearl buttons again.

She disappeared from the room with a happy, “Business calls!”

Grey turned to examine the bouquet once more. The chaos of the arrangement reminded him of Montgomery House, of the only sanctuary he’d ever known. Never having been on the receiving end of such a gift, he was struck by how terribly intimate it was to know that he’d been thought of, if only for a moment. And for the thought to have resulted in flowers at his desk just—didn’t make sense.

Unless there was a part of Farah Rafiq that did, in fact, understand him somehow.

Shooing the thought away, Grey turned his attention to the mountain of paperwork on his desk. The remainder of the day passed without incident, despite Farah never having taken on secretarial duties before. By the time she’d shown the last client out, it was well into the afternoon.

“Well done me,” she chirped, having once again chosen to abandon her post to linger in his doorway.

“Yes, well done you,” he allowed, putting his pen down.

“Shall we close up?” she asked, her impatience showing. “We have somewhere to be.”

“We do?”

“The dressmaker.” She placed her hands on her hips with a huff. “Don’t tell me you forgot already.”

“I’m not nearly that lucky,” he deadpanned. “Just so you’re aware, I refuse to go in with you.”

“That’s fine.” Farah rushed over to take his coat and hat off their respective hooks. “No dressmaker wants to gossip with a man around, anyway.”