Page 45 of A Lady’s Guide to Mystery and Mischief

“Oh? And when did you manage to find the time to do that?” Grey bit out.

“Last night.” Then, after glancing between Farah and Grey, she said, “I believe I’ve come down with a headache.”

“No,” Grey told her, “you haven’t.”

“Yes, I have.” She turned to Farah with a gentle smile on her lined face. “Peregrine will have to finish your tour of the house, my dear. I need to have a bit of a lie down.”

“No, you don’t,” Grey said from his spot by the fireplace.

“Go on,” Leila said, all but shoving Farah into the room. “I’ll only be an hour or two.”

“An hour or tw—” Grey sighed, eyes on Leila’s back as she turned on her heel to leave. “Never mind.”

Farah, who had been afflicted with a sudden awkwardness, began to speak if only to avoid any unwanted silences. “I had no idea you—I thought your grandmother would have told you that—”

“It’s fine.” Grey placed his book spine-up on the chair they’d found him in. “Let’s go.”

“You don’t have to show me around if you don’t want to,” Farah said as they left the library. “I’d be content waiting for your grandmother in the parlor if you’ve other things to tend to.”

“I’m sure you would be,” Grey responded. “I, on the other hand, would never hear the end of it.”

As it happened, Montgomery House wasn’t that big. It was more than enough space for a small family but was nothing compared to Willow House or even Northborough. Still, there was something undeniably comfortable about it, and the varied decor gave Farah much to examine and admire.

“Have you always lived here?” she asked, inspecting a collection of copper coffee pots that had been arranged on the mantelpiece in the dining room. They reminded her of the metal goods her uncle and father traded in.

Grey, who was rooted by the door with his arms crossed, exhaled. “No, not always.”

“Where were you before?”

A moment of silence, during which he appeared to be weighing his options.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said. “I’m just being nosy.”

“I know you are, and it’s fine,” he said with some degree of weariness. “There’s not much to it. My parents both died of fever when I was young, so my grandparents took me in.”

“Oh.” The word came out in a soft whisper. More heartbreak, the likes of which she’d never known. “I’m so sorry.”

Grey shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

“But you seem close to your grandmother,” Farah said. “It must have been nice to grow up around her.”

“Her, yes.” Grey’s response was utterly devoid of emotion. “Living with my grandfather, however, was an entirely different story. Do you want to see the garden?”

Understanding that she ought not to pry further, Farah nodded, allowing him to lead her through a set of glass-paneled doors. Her mouth dropped open at the sight before her, a veritable jungle of colorful flowers and plants.

“It’s exactly like home!” She took a few steps into the garden, marveling at how perfectly overgrown it was. Turning to Grey with a sunny smile, she said, “Your garden is a perfect miniature of where I grew up.”

Something Farah couldn’t quite place crossed his features. “Is that so?”

“Yes! You’ll see when you come to Painswick.”

Grey came to stand by her, giving her the half-smile she loved to coax from him. “When I come to Painswick?”

“You’ll want to visit me, won’t you?” She wandered down a twisty path toward a large bush. “Is this rosemary?”

“Yes, it is,” Grey said from behind her. “Won’t I be visiting you in Bath?”

Oh. She’d forgotten about Francis.