Page 30 of A Lady’s Guide to Mystery and Mischief

Grey hummed in resigned acknowledgment. “I suppose it can’t be helped. And the good news?”

Farah straightened her back in excitement. “The good news is that I put in an order for a lovely dress.”

That he was biting back a smile couldn’t have been more obvious. “Is that cause for excitement?”

“Of course it is.” Farah offered him her most cheerful grin. “Small, simple joys make life so much more bearable while one waits for big things to come their way, you know.”

“Big things like marriage?”

“Yes, like marriage,” she agreed. Clearing her throat, she added, “And balls! And musicales.”

“Are those really so big?” Grey questioned as the carriage began to roll along.

“For someone from the countryside, yes.”

“I see.”

Farah studied him for a moment, bunching the coral fabric of her skirt in her hands. “We needn’t bring up my—my arrangement, you know.”

His intense gaze came to rest upon her. “Why not?”

“I cannot help but feel that it upsets you,” she murmured, despite knowing that he’d brought the subject up.

His response was everything that was flat. “There is no earthly reason why your arrangement with my accursed cousin should upset me, Miss Rafiq.”

Farah bit her lip in embarrassment. Had she been misreading his tone all this time, then? She’d been so certain that something shifted in him every time marriage was brought up.

Perhaps it wasn’t her marriage, but marriage in general that he was opposed to.

Deciding not to let her uneasiness show, Farah lifted her shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “If you say so.”

All she received in return was a terse, “I do.”

Chapter Seven

Mrs. Ramsbury’s house was nothing like Farah had ever seen. Indeed, its grandeur even rivaled that of Willow House. Hundreds of candles had been lit, casting a mellow glow over the myriad rooms and hallways that had been decorated for the event. Even the ceiling had been accounted for, with hanging flowers guiding guests from the entrance to the bustling ballroom. Farah stood at said entrance frozen in utter fascination as people jostled her to get past, eager to get a taste of what the ball had to offer.

A steadying hand wrapped around her arm, gently guiding her away from the incoming stream of bodies. Looking up, she saw that it was Grey who had removed her from the center of the crush.

She raised her voice so he could hear her over the noisy chatter. “Where is my aunt?”

“Disappeared.” Instead of speaking loudly, Grey chose to bend his head toward hers, the scent of ink and paper meeting her nose. For the second time that night—the first being in her aunt’s carriage—she marveled at how striking he was in his embroidered waistcoat and silken cravat. Though nothing could blunt the sharp angles of his face, the fabrics brought out a sparkle in his normally severe gaze that Farah couldn’t help but admire.

“Oh, well. I’m sure we’ll run into her later,” Farah said. Dalia had made a point of presenting Farah and Grey to the heavily pregnant Mrs. Ramsbury, who could still be seen receiving her guests at the door. Without a moment’s hesitation, Dalia had introduced Grey as a friend of the family’s—and her solicitor.

“I highly doubt that,” Grey grumbled. Head still tilted toward hers, he asked, “Well? What’s your grand plan for the night?”

Farah glanced around, wishing she were tall enough to see over the heads of the crowd. She felt a twinge in a hidden part of her heart, evidence of the tiniest of hopes. If she had her way, her grand plan would involve laughter and conversation. A full dance card, maybe, and a little bit of magic.

Instead, she had to keep an eye out for a dress of blue velvet, all to track down the inheritance of a man she didn’t even—

“There are too many people here,” she complained, allowing Grey to lead her to an empty corner. “There’s no way we’ll be able to—”

Her sentence was cut short by the sight of a well-dressed gentleman penciling his name onto a lady’s dance card.

“Well?” Grey prompted.

Excitement spiked through her. “I’ve an idea.”