Page 40 of A Lady’s Guide to Mystery and Mischief

“Go on.” Leila waved him away, visibly unaffected by his impoliteness. “Think of the impression you’d be giving Miss Rafiq if you left me to perish from thirst.”

A nerve ticked in Grey’s jaw as he mulled this over. “Fine. But please, for God’s sake, do not embarra—”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Leila assured him, watching as he marched away. “Such temper. Tell me, Miss Rafiq, has my grandson been good company?”

“Very good!” Farah said, unable to comprehend her sudden breathlessness. “He’s been ever so kind to me.”

Leila’s response was somewhat terse. “I’m happy to hear it. God knows how difficult he can be.”

“I know,” Farah said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “T-that is—”

“Do not feign politeness for my sake, Miss Rafiq,” Leila interrupted. “I’m quite aware of my grandson’s faults.”

Uncertainty flooded Farah’s veins, and she felt a blush begin to creep up her neck. “My apologies.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. My grandson is as kind as he is challenging. My only concern is how it will impact his prospects.”

“Prospects?”

“I should like to see him married,” Leila said. “But he remains resistant to the idea.”

“Yes,” Farah agreed slowly. “I’ve noticed.”

Leila examined her with a critical eye. “You’ve an understanding with Francis, do you not?”

“I do.”

“I did not think I’d see Francis married before Peregrine.” Leila let out a long exhale as she shook her head in what Farah assumed was disappointment. “Of all the things to be wrong about.”

Surely she does not hate Francis the way Grey does.

“I won’t ask your opinion of Francis,” Leila said, as if sensing the direction of Farah’s thoughts. “Even if I refuse to hide my own.”

“Which is?” Farah choked out.

“Unfavorable, I must say.” Leila sniffed in disapproval. “The fact that he rarely visits certainly doesn’t aid his cause.”

Farah bit her lip, knowing she ought to feel embarrassed on Francis’s behalf. “I hope to be a good influence on him, Mrs. Montgomery.”

Leila raised a dark eyebrow, scoffing. “That, young lady, is not your responsibility.”

“When was the last time he visited?”

Leila hummed. “Last winter, I believe. He fancied himself an artist at the time and gifted me a painting.”

Farah wondered where Grey had gotten to. “That was kind of him.”

“It was terrible,” Leila informed her. “I could only think to hang it in the water closet.”

“Are you talking about Francis’s so-called art?” Grey asked, seeming to materialize out of thin air, summoned by Farah’s thoughts alone.

“Yes, the one in the downstairs water closet.” Leila accepted the glass her grandson offered to her. “Miss Rafiq has just been on the receiving end of my feelings toward your cousin, Peregrine.”

Grey turned to Farah with a somewhat hesitant half-smile. “It’s nothing she hasn’t heard before.”

As shaky as her footing felt, something about that smile grounded her. There was a shyness to it, as if he were hoping for her approval of his grandmother.

Of him.