Page 88 of A Lady’s Guide to Mystery and Mischief

Leila leaned back in her armchair, folding her hands over her belly. “Because of Susanna?”

“Maybe,” Grey said. “I don’t know.”

“I have two points to make,” his grandmother announced. “The first is that sharing what you hold in your heart will not rob Miss Rafiq of the time she claims to require.”

“And the second?”

“The second is that you must always tell people how you feel.”

Grey scoffed. “It’s not a habit that comes easily to me.”

“That,” Leila said, “is because of where you come from. Look at us. How many years have we been living under the same roof? Tonight is the first time either of us has shared how deeply we love one another. It may not be a habit you possess, habibi, but it’s something you have the capacity for. You proved that tonight, did you not?”

“We both did.”

“Love and risk go hand in hand,” she continued. “You ought to celebrate that you’re able to love at all. Allah knows where that came from.”

“I rather think it came from you,” Grey said because he knew it would annoy her.

“Don’t insult me,” she shot back. “I’ve never loved anyone in my life.”

“That wasn’t what you said a moment ago,” he pointed out with a grin.

“I wasn’t in my right mind,” she said with a scowl. “Someone must have put sugar in my tea.”

“And sugar is known to have the same effect on the body as the strongest of liquors.”

His grandmother laughed at this, the sound a sharp cackle of pure amusement. “Oh, Peregrine. You do indulge me.”

“I shudder to think what would happen if I didn’t.”

“Now,” she said, suddenly serious. “What will you do?”

“I’ll—I’ll tell her I love her,” Grey promised. “But—”

Leila groaned.

“No, this is a good but,” Grey assured her, leaning forward in his chair. “She wants magic. I need to make some magic.”

“Indeed?” Leila arched a single eyebrow. “And how will you do that?”

“I have no idea. But if it’s what she wants, it’s what I’ll give her.”

His grandmother pushed herself out of her armchair. “Sleep will bring you the answers you seek,” she said. “I won’t interfere. I learned long ago that you’ve a mind of your own.”

“What—” Grey began, watching as his grandmother turned to look at him from the doorway. “What if it doesn’t go the way I—”

“What if it does?”

“If it does, I suppose we live happily ever after,” Grey said, worn down by the anxiety that insisted on corrupting his every thought. “If such a thing is even possible.”

“I’m proof that it can be.”

Grey gestured at the parlor with incredulity. “This is your happily ever after?”

“And why shouldn’t it be? I imagine it comes in all forms. In your case, it has taken the form of Miss Rafiq. In mine, the form of Montgomery House, finally vacated of your grandfather.”

Grey hummed in acknowledgment as he scanned the cozy room. What sort of fool would he be to let happiness slip through his fingers? To let fear have such control?