Page 69 of A Lady’s Guide to Mystery and Mischief

“Perhaps not,” Kalila allowed. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re in love with her.”

He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it when the words wouldn’t come. Kalila, for her part, continued to walk rather peacefully beside him, occasionally looking back at Dameer as if checking for his safety.

“Here we are!” Farah beamed, gesturing toward the marble structure before them. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Beautiful was almost an insult for the domed structure artfully tucked away in the trees. Grey followed Kalila through the door and into the shady sanctuary within. Calligraphy he could not read had been inlaid on the walls, and a handful of prayer carpets had been stacked on a bench next to a shelf lined with books. A wide basin sat in a corner, the water inside still and clear, ready for use.

“If I don’t sit down, I will topple over,” Dameer announced.

Kalila and Oliver went to him, helping him settle on the bench. They spoke to one another in hushed tones as Farah wandered around the room. When she finally came to a stop, it was by Grey, who was rooted by the entrance.

“I hope you aren’t too uncomfortable,” she whispered.

Grey glanced over at the others, taking note of their apparent distraction. “I’ll survive.”

“What were you and Kalila talking about?”

Heart stopping in his chest, Grey began to stammer. “I-I—nothing. It was nothing. Harmless curiosity, that’s all.”

Farah scoffed. “There’s nothing harmless about Kalila’s curiosity.”

“Indeed?” he responded mildly, turning his attention to the decorated wall nearby. It was time for a change in subject. “What does it say?”

“It’s from the Quran,” Farah told him. “It says that Allah does not burden a soul beyond what it’s able to bear. It’s written in Arabic. That one—” She pointed to another wall. “—says the same in Kurdish. My family speaks both.”

“I would have never been able to differentiate the two,” he admitted.

She gave him an encouraging smile. “There’s nothing wrong with that. It isn’t important. And—places like this are meant for you, too, you know.” Lowering her voice, she continued with, “What you said in the carriage—you don’t have to live in the periphery of it all if you don’t want to.”

The periphery. Was that where he’d exiled himself to after everything? After Susanna, after Francis, after his grandfather? He’d never felt like much of anything, never felt like he’d belonged anywhere, and all he’d done in response was slip into the warm, comforting arms of resignation.

But resignation and his drift into the so-called periphery had ensured his survival. It had allowed him to hold his grief and anger at arm’s length as he’d waited for the day he’d finally be left alone. And alone he was.

“It’s always been safer,” he said, “to keep my distance.”

“From everything?”

He nodded. From everything. From the hurt and rejection and confusion and anger, yes, but even from something as simple as allowing himself to belong because even that had the potential to cause pain.

“I’ll protect you,” she said, the corner of her mouth drawn up in a half-smile, “if you ever decide to inch forward.”

He rather thought she would, even if he wasn’t quite sure how to respond.

“Should we return to the house?”

Kalila was once again examining Grey with a knowing glint in her owlish gaze. They followed after her, Grey almost melting with relief at her interruption. When Northborough came into view, Farah raised her arms and began to wave wildly. Grey tracked her line of sight, seeing not one, not two, but six newcomers.

You reap what you sow, Grey. You reap what you fucking sow.

*

“Dalia’s solicitor,” Sami said, his assessing eyes shifting across the dining table to settle on Grey.

Supper had been going on for all of twenty minutes, and it had already turned into a thinly veiled interrogation. Farah and Grey sat next to one another, surrounded on all sides by her parents and brother, aunt and uncle, and two family friends. She was, however, determined to make it through this particular evening in one piece. Quelling her family’s suspicions was quite low on her list of things to attend to. There were, after all, more pressing matters.

Like doing the right thing, for example.

Farah forced a bright smile onto her face. Everyone knew she was her father’s favorite. Whatever tale she decided to spin, he would likely accept as fact. “Yes! She didn’t want me to travel alone.”