Page 39 of A Lady’s Guide to Mystery and Mischief

Hiking her silver skirts in her hands, Farah stepped up onto the platform. When she turned, a sea of faces—and evening wear—greeted her. She began a quick survey of the guests while the room filled with anticipatory silence.

Pink, orange, purple, green—

“Your music, miss?”

Farah started at the sound of the pianist’s voice, realizing that she was, in fact, expected to perform. She cycled through all the songs she knew before turning to the musicians with a smile. “I don’t know any instruments, so I suppose I’ve no choice but to sing. Do you know I Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble Halls?”

They nodded, and Farah looked out into the assemblage, awaiting her cue. Her singing was, as it always had been, horrendous. And while the aria would have given her ample time to study her subjects, she couldn’t help but notice Grey, who was staring at her with inexplicable wonder. It was a most unexpected expression, considering he was witnessing what had to be the worst exhibition of all time.

Farah pushed through the piece with unflappable cheer, even as her voice dipped and cracked. Laughter began to bubble up in her chest despite herself, and she saw the corner of Grey’s mouth lift up in an imperceptible smile, causing her to end the song in a choked hiccup. Mrs. Ramsbury’s guests clapped as Farah stepped off the stage and made her way toward Grey. The beginnings of Handel’s Water Music drowned out her laughter as she collapsed in her seat. For the first time since they’d met, Farah noticed that Grey didn’t bother biting his smile back. Instead, he allowed a roughened chuckle to escape him.

“You’re a terrible singer.”

“I know I am,” Farah whispered. “Your smiles were of no help, mind you.”

“I never smile,” he shot back. “Any blue velvet?”

Farah bit the inside of her cheek, knowing she couldn’t admit to having wasted her time staring at him from the stage. “No, but the musicale’s only just begun. We have time.”

“I envy you,” Grey said, his attention on the musicians. “I’d have never been able to do that.”

“Do what?” Farah asked, taking her fill of his sharp profile. “Make a room full of people despise opera?”

He chuckled again, the sound an arrow through her chest. “You know what I mean.”

“I’m sure I don’t.”

He didn’t elaborate. Farah matched his silence with her own, not wanting to break the ease between them. A few more brave souls performed, which assured Farah that her ridiculous squawking would soon be forgotten. At the musicale’s mid-point, refreshments were served, and everyone stood to stretch their legs and mingle. Farah wandered, accepting the glass of lemonade that was offered to her.

Grey’s voice came from behind her. “Not a single scrap of blue velvet in sight.”

“Hmm?” Farah faced him, forgetting for a moment that she was meant to be on a mission. “Oh! Yes, yes.”

Focus. I need to focus.

“Regardless, I—oh, for the love of God.”

Farah raised her eyebrows. “Are you quite all right?”

A new voice entered the fray. “I didn’t know you’d be here, Peregrine.”

Peregrine?

Whirling around, Farah saw a short woman with gray hair braided into a crown around her head. She was dressed in a maroon gown, gold earrings swinging this way and that as she twinkled at Grey.

“Grandmother,” he bit out. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Of course you didn’t.” The older woman turned her dark eyes to Farah. “Miss Farah Rafiq, I presume?”

Farah couldn’t seem to stop herself from stammering. “Oh, I-I—”

“Mrs. Leila Montgomery,” Grey grumbled. “My grandmother.”

Farah cleared her throat in a bid for composure. Leila’s presence was her very first glimpse into Grey’s life outside of Hawkins & Montgomery. Francis aside, she knew little about the home Grey kept or who he lived with. Until now. “So lovely to meet you, Mrs. Montgomery.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Leila responded. She nodded at Grey. “Would you be a dear and fetch me some refreshment, Peregrine?”

Grey’s face darkened. “Absolutely not.”