Page 89 of A Lady’s Guide to Mystery and Mischief

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Peregrine,” his grandmother said, resuming her departure. “I love you.”

“I thought you weren’t capable of love,” Grey called after her.

“I don’t recall ever saying such a ridiculous thing,” was her response.

Chapter Twenty-One

“If things go awry, I shall pretend to faint,” Farah decided.

Grey glanced down at her with the shadow of a smile on his face. “Let’s hope it won’t come to that.”

A rush of heat invaded, and Farah tore her gaze from his to knock at the door to Helena’s house. For what had to be the millionth time, she reveled in how deeply taken she was with Grey. The tiniest glimpse of warmth in his beautiful eyes—warmth directed toward her—had her feeling like a flower fit to burst from its bud. Silently, she willed the perfect moment to come sooner rather than later. She wouldn’t abandon her hopes for magic so soon, not when she could feel it lurking right out of reach.

The door swung open to reveal Helena, her lips stretched in a tense smile. Despite her friend’s somewhat ominous expression, Farah wanted to weep in relief at the sight of her. The search on the roads between Painswick and London had left her frazzled and ready to shatter at any moment. It was perplexing to juggle such conflicting emotions—exhilarated with her love for Grey and heartbroken over her failure to be there for Helena.

“Thank you so much for coming.” Helena stepped aside to let them in. “I’m so grateful you’re here, Mr. Montgomery. I’m afraid we gave you a terrible impression at the ball.”

“Not at all,” Grey said, the falsehood veiled by politeness.

While the interior of the house had not changed since Farah had been here last, she felt like a stranger as Helena led them to the dining room. The table had been laid with a beautiful meal, the length of it dotted with freshly cut flowers and polished candelabras. Mixed with the light from the gas lamps, the room was almost cheerful. The only dark spot was Andrew Jennings’s presence.

“Really, Helena, this is far too much,” Farah protested as the food was served.

“No, no.” Helena waved a hand from where she sat across from Farah. “This is an apology dinner, after all. Isn’t it, Andrew?”

Jennings spared Farah a second of attention. “Indeed.”

It was nowhere near an apology, but Farah decided to let it go. Her main concern was Helena—she still had no idea where her friend had disappeared to, and it seemed she wasn’t meant to know. Still, the sensation of something being wrong tugged at her.

“What is it you do, Mr. Montgomery?” Jennings asked, the question forced.

“I’m a solicitor,” Grey replied. He sat by Helena, leaving Farah alone on her side of the table. “At Hawkins & Montgomery on Fleet Street.”

Jennings returned with an utterly disinterested, “I see.”

When a hush threatened to overtake them, Grey spoke. “I’ve heard you dabble in the sciences.”

“I do not dabble, Mr. Montgomery,” Jennings snapped. “I am a scientist. In fact, I lead my very own scientific society.”

“I can’t say I know much about the sciences,” Grey said coolly. If Farah squinted, she could almost see something like mischief in his eyes. “But I am acquainted with Mr. Booth. Perhaps you’ve met? He seems to be a well-respected sort.”

Jennings turned a deep shade of crimson.

Biting back a smile, Farah gave Grey a subtle shake of her head. She had no doubt now that he was needling Jennings on purpose and that Oliver had given him all the details of his history with the man. The falling apart of the Society of Microscopic Biology was, after all, one of Oliver’s favorite stories to recount. In truth, if Jennings hadn’t been such a complete rat of a person, Farah might have had empathy for him. She knew what it was to be on the outskirts, to feel like an outsider peering in through the windows. Unlike her host, however, she’d done her best to remain decent at heart no matter how excluded she’d been from the world she’d longed to be a part of.

And while she had crossed over, finally in love, Jennings remained where he was. And, worse still, he held Helena back with him.

“We’ve met,” Jennings bit out.

“Interesting fellow,” was Grey’s pleasant remark.

Jennings’s grip on his wine glass tightened. “You could say that, yes.”

Knowing she had to interrupt before Jennings launched himself across the table at Grey, Farah asked, “How have you been, Helena?”

“I’ve been wonderful,” Helena said, that same false smile on her face again. “Just wonderful. And yourself?”

Farah frowned. Conversation with Helena had never been this awkward, and it occurred to her that she was somewhat to blame. They would most likely separate after dinner—leaving Grey to suffer Jennings’s company—which would give her ample time to apologize and at least attempt to convince Helena to open up to her.