Page 100 of A Lady’s Guide to Mystery and Mischief

“It was the dress,” she said. “I saw it hanging in her wardrobe—blue velvet, just as Mme Auclair said.”

“But—”

“She decided against wearing it to the ball,” Farah interrupted. “Or, rather, her husband’s unsolicited opinion of the dress made her decide against it. As for the money, I told her you wouldn’t have asked for it back.”

The confidence of her statement shook him. As a solicitor, he was meant to uphold the letter of the law. He could almost feel his sense of duty clashing with his sympathy for Helena—and with his desire to please Farah.

“We can replace the missing sum with the money my aunt promised me.”

Grey could sense a headache coming on. This wasn’t how tonight was meant to go. “And Francis?”

“Oh, right. He asked me to reconsider. Can you believe it?”

“Yes, I can,” he bit out.

“He even claimed to love me,” she said with a laugh.

Of course he had. Grey understood the way Francis’s mind worked well enough to know that his cousin had realized he’d lost his key to the family vault. Without Farah, uncertainty loomed before him. He might, Grey thought, actually be forced to put in an effort for once in his damned life.

Then, as if remarking on the weather, Farah said, “I also need two thousand pounds.”

“Two thousand pounds?!”

“Before that, however,” she said, brushing off his reaction, “I need your help.”

Without wasting a single second, she told Grey of her grand plan to smuggle Helena to Dover so she might escape to France on a boat. He listened, somewhat bewildered, until she was finished.

“That—I don’t—”

“I know it all sounds a bit wild,” she said, rubbing a sheepish hand against the back of her neck, “but I would so love your help. You’re the most reliable person I know—and the most trustworthy.”

“Are we forgetting that Mrs. Jennings committed a crime?”

He regretted his words the instant Farah frowned.

“She’s in a difficult situation,” came the crisp response.

“I understand that, but—”

“No, you don’t,” she interrupted. “It’s not something you could ever understand. What would you do if—”

“If?” he prompted.

“I was going to ask what you would do it I was in Helena’s place, but no. You should be able to empathize with any woman in her position, whether you know them or not.”

Helena’s position was of a woman stuck. And while she was stuck in a way Grey would never be, he knew something of being trapped. If someone—someone like Farah—had extended their hand to the adolescent, newly orphaned version of him, offered him freedom from his grandfather and cousin, he might have considered taking it. The only thing that would have stopped him was the possibility of leaving Leila behind. But Helena had no equivalent to his grandmother.

She was alone, and Farah was right. A cage was a cage, even if it did provide shelter from the elements.

“What of the two thousand pounds?” he asked. “What role does that play in all of this?”

“It’s what Francis needs to settle his debts.”

His patience began to wear thin at the mere idea of bailing his cousin out of his financial hole. “And we’re settling Francis’s debts now, are we?”

He should temper himself. He should put an end to this conversation, remember what he’d planned for the night. As much as he resented Francis, he also resented himself for allowing his cousin under his skin. Striving—even hoping—for complete detachment from their shared past seemed senseless. There was too much history, too many wounds.

Something you may have to forgive yourself for.