Page 32 of A Lady’s Guide to Mystery and Mischief

It was at this point that Farah decided to intervene. She knew how sensitive the subject of science was in the Jennings household, especially in light of her cousin’s achievements. She sailed into the room, paying no mind to the unbearable tension within. “There you are!”

Helena’s fists relaxed. “There you are.”

“Miss Rafiq,” Mr. Jennings muttered, face still scarlet.

“I didn’t see you out there at first,” Farah continued. “But I was so happy when I finally caught sight of you!”

“You didn’t see her because she was dancing,” Mr. Jennings said.

Helena folded her arms across her chest. “Like I said—”

“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Farah gave Helena a calm smile. “What’s important is that I’ve found you.”

“You’d have found her at home, Miss Rafiq,” Jennings said, once again speaking despite not having been spoken to. “Or have you forgotten whose hospitality you’ve been taking advantage of?”

“Andrew!” Helena gasped. She took Farah’s hands in hers and gave them an apologetic squeeze. “He’s drunk. Ignore him.”

“Oh, please,” Jennings snapped. “I’m not drunk. I’m angry because my wife agreed to two dances with the same man.”

“A friend of my brother’s,” Helena insisted.

“I’m sure she was only being polite.” Farah took a small step between Helena and her husband. “For her brother’s sake, I mean.”

Jennings raked his gaze over her, clearly unimpressed. “And what do you know of being polite, Miss Rafiq?”

Farah raised her eyebrows. While she and Jennings had never been on good terms, he’d always been careful around her. Though now that she’d taken a step in his direction, the faint smell of brandy did meet her nose.

Helena’s right. He must be drunk.

“I am a gentlewoman, Mr. Jennings,” Farah responded with all the coolness she could muster. “It could be argued that I know little else.”

When a new voice came from the doorway, the three of them startled in simultaneous surprise, all eyes shifting to take in their unwelcome visitor.

“Is there a problem here?”

Or, rather, their welcome visitor. Grey’s frame filled the doorway, his unmistakably stormy gaze darting between Farah, Helena, and Jennings.

“Not at all,” Farah said, giving Jennings a curt nod. “We were just about to return to the ballroom.”

Jennings scoffed. “I haven’t finished speaking. I questioned your understanding of politeness because no gentlewoman of quality would go to such lengths to make it to the altar, Miss Rafiq.”

Embarrassment coursed through Farah’s veins. She didn’t need to ask where he’d heard about the so-called lengths she was going to. “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”

“Farah—” Helena whispered.

“A gentlewoman of quality, no,” Jennings continued. “But a desperate one? Most certainly.”

“That’s enough.” Grey came to stand next to Farah, his voice low and firm. “I don’t know who you are, but—”

“The company you keep only proves my—”

“Ten seconds,” Grey interjected. “That’s how long I’ll give you to get the hell out of this room.”

“Or what?” Jennings taunted, his desire to engage in a fight clear.

Helena wrapped her fingers around his arm. “Stop. Your nose has barely healed from the last time.”

Jennings paused, fury still plain on his face. Without another word, he marched out of the room, leaving the faint smell of alcohol in his wake.