Page 5 of A Lady’s Guide to Mystery and Mischief

“Couldn’t you visit her after we return from holiday?” Dameer croaked.

“I’m needed now,” Farah said softly. She turned to Sami. “Baba?”

Her father studied her for a tense moment, a frown on his face. “It’s up to you, habibti. If you think you’ll be happier visiting with Helena, then I won’t stop you.”

The fact was that Farah wouldn’t be happier visiting with Helena at all. She was giving up what promised to be a delightful break from the mundanity of the countryside—and possibly fail—to convince a solicitor she had never met to allow her to get on with her life. Perhaps she could convince Francis to take her to Wales for their honeymoon.

All she knew was that if she didn’t try, she would wonder about what might have come of it for the next three years.

“Thank you,” Farah said, doing her best to keep her tone light. “I’m sorry to be missing out on our trip, but I can’t bear to leave Helena alone while she’s so miserable.”

Helena, at least, could be counted upon to always welcome Farah into her home, starved for company as she was. That Helena was judged and oftentimes shunned as a consequence of her husband’s behavior saddened Farah to no end. As far as she was concerned, everybody made mistakes. It just so happened that Helena’s was one that was very difficult to correct.

Zahra spoke, pulling Farah out of her reverie. “You’re a good friend.”

Dameer muttered, “But a terrible sister,” under his breath.

Farah giggled. “You’d have been glued to Kalila whether I’d come or not.”

“You don’t know that,” Dameer protested. “This holiday could have been the great bonding experience of our lives. Are you sure you want to miss it?”

“I’m sure,” Farah said, taking great pains to stop herself from wilting. “Shall we save the bonding for next summer?”

“If I still have it in me.”

Ignoring her brother’s histrionics, Farah bid her family good night for the second time and returned to her room. A quick note to Helena to warn her of her upcoming visit would suffice—her friend would receive the remainder of the details once Farah was in London.

After the message had been passed along to a maid, Farah readied herself for bed. It occurred to her that some might consider her desperate, but she knew better. She knew there was no shame in wanting to love and be loved—and she had exhausted all other options before making her final decision. It was simply her lot in life to enter into an agreement with a man she had no feelings for. It was also her lot in life to marry that man and begin to orchestrate the romance of the century. At this point, she was confident she could coax love out of a brick wall. Coaxing love out of Francis would be the easier endeavor.

Forced proximity in a stately home, pleasant conversations over supper—there were many avenues that could spark passion between a couple. Farah would try all of them until something stuck.

What if nothing sticks? What if you end up like Helena?

Farah pushed the thought out of her head as she climbed beneath her coverlet. While Francis was lacking, he was no Andrew Jennings. She was in no danger of finding herself in Helena’s position.

As she drifted off to sleep, she imagined what she might tell Mr. Montgomery to persuade him to take pity on his cousin. Perhaps he would be moved by the very same declarations of love she’d been impressing upon her family all this time. There was no reason for him to stand firm, unless he wasn’t in possession of a heart.

She would make him smile, appeal to the romantic nature she was convinced everyone had buried deep with them and make her request.

Simple.

Chapter Two

Fleet Street—London, England

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Farah?”

Farah tore her gaze away from the window to look at Helena, whose skin had turned a very pale shade of green. Her friend tended to become quite ill on carriage rides, but had insisted on accompanying Farah on her errand nonetheless. Their vehicle had just reached Fleet Street, and the coachman was doing his best to inch his way through the crush.

“I never said it was a good idea,” Farah said. “Just an idea.”

“But whatever shall you do if you’re refused?”

Farah shrugged. “At least I’ll be able to leave town knowing I tried.”

“You’ve lost your mind,” Helena said with a sniff. “Only a madwoman would give up the chance to holiday in Wales for a ridiculous scheme like this.”

Farah leaned over to pat Helena’s gloved hand. “Think of it this way—when I have my own home, you’ll be able to spend as much time away from Mr. Jennings as you please.”