Page 101 of A Lady’s Guide to Mystery and Mischief

The thought almost startled him. Was forgiveness, then, what waited at the end of the road? Perhaps, over time, the pain would dull. But until then—until then, he could try to forgive himself for his uglier sentiments. It had never occurred to him that he, too, could try to hold himself with gentle hands.

If Farah sensed the enormity of his reaction, she didn’t show it. “Don’t worry, I asked for something rather hefty in exchange.”

The tangled, complicated knot in his chest melted away as curiosity took its place. “I beg your pardon?”

“For two thousand pounds,” she said with a proud sparkle, “Francis will leave us alone.”

A small sum to pay for peace, he reasoned.

“And,” she continued, unrestrained excitement coloring her words, “he has agreed to give up his share of Montgomery House. It’s yours now, Grey. All of it.”

He stared at her, his ability to respond impaired. He thought he’d heard her say that Montgomery House was his, but that was impossible. Francis owned half of it, would continue to own half of it as long as he knew it would grate on Grey’s nerves.

Farah’s mouth curved into an uncertain arc. “I thought you’d be happier.”

“Montgomery House is—it’s—”

“It’s yours,” she said. “And your grandmother’s of course. Francis is no longer a threat to it.”

If he’d been any less determined to see his plans of magic through, he would have confessed his love for her in his next breath. Because he did love her, more than he had ever loved anyone. It overwhelmed him, made him splinter, tempted him to place his bruised heart in her hands so that she might do with it as she pleased. He imagined himself looking a fool to her now, staring at her with a blank expression on his face, his brain scrambling to find the right words.

“Grey?”

“Nobody has ever done anything like this for me,” he said, his voice rough as he reached over to take her hands in his. “I never dared hope—I never thought anyone would ever—”

That anyone would ever do anything for him unless contractually obliged to or, in the case of his grandmother, bound to him by blood.

Farah maneuvered her hands until she had his cradled between her palms instead. “Why not?”

“I don’t know,” he said, eyes drawn to where she held him.

I don’t deserve it.

“I said before that you deserve some gentleness, and I meant it,” she said, ducking her chin to look into his face. “You really ought to try getting used to it.”

He would never get used to it, never take for granted any ounce of softness she deigned to bestow upon him.

When he finally met her gaze, he almost thought she was brimming with the same love he felt for her. But he wouldn’t make assumptions. He intended to speak his feelings honestly and hope that she would put him out of his turmoil by doing the same.

All traces of turmoil had, however, disappeared for the night. Montgomery House was his. She could have asked for anything.

His next question came out in a croak. “Why?”

“Why?” she repeated. “Because I want to make sure you never go without gentleness again.”

I love you, I love you, I love you.

“You could have asked Francis for anything,” he clarified, his words clawing their way out of his throat. “Why Montgomery House?”

Her thumb traveled over his knuckles in a slow, soothing rhythm. “It’s important to you.”

“Thank you,” he rasped.

“I would not have thought to ask for anything else,” she said with a small, barely noticeable smile.

Before he could even think to stop himself, he was crying. Quiet sobs shuddered through him, his heart unable to fathom the way she chose to view him, how she could ever think to see importance in what he cared for. Wordlessly, she stood, pulling his head forward to cradle it against her. The smell of clean, newly rained upon grass came over him as he buried his nose in her dress, his arms coming around her waist to hold her close.

She was everything that was divine. She was his salvation. With a single dazzling smile, she had chased away the dark clouds that had seemed to accompany him everywhere he went, hanging over his shoulders, heavy with guilt and shame. Were he a denizen of the ancient world, he would be her most loyal of followers, giving every bit of himself to her in hopes that she would shine her light upon him in return.