Page 52 of A Lady’s Guide to Mystery and Mischief

Questions like Why did you hit Francis? and Why did I come across you holding him up against a tree? if Grey had to hazard a guess.

“Shall we?”

She nodded, grasping his sleeve. “Yes. There will be other masked balls.”

“And other Mesopotamian demons to impersonate?”

That, at least drew a laugh out of her. “More than you know.”

Chapter Twelve

Grey offered his uninjured hand to Farah, helping her step out of the carriage. She had asked the coachman to take them to Montgomery House, and Grey had not argued. The ride had been a silent one, with Grey mulling over all that had brought him to this point and Farah staring listlessly out of the window. Something deep inside her seemed to have dimmed, and Grey felt its absence keenly. Whether he liked it or not, they were due for a conversation that, if nothing else, promised to be uncomfortable.

She wanted to ask him questions, he knew. And he would answer them with as much honesty as he could muster. His only hope was that she would reciprocate because he, too, had questions for her. Questions that had been gnawing at him for some time now.

Once they were in the entryway, Farah asked, “Where do you keep your bandages?”

“In the upstairs study.” He guided her there, despite his awareness of how close it was to his bedchamber. Opening the door to the room in question, he was relieved to see that a respectable fire was going and that he hadn’t left his desk too cluttered. As with the downstairs, the walls were decorated with painted flowers, with all available shelf space taken up by his grandmother’s treasures. Farah followed him to the desk, where a small piece of paper caught his eye.

At Bancroft House. Will likely be late returning.

All my love—L.M.

Farah tried to peek over his arm. “What is it?”

“A letter from my grandmother.” He let it drift onto the desk. “She’s out.”

“I see,” Farah murmured. Her gaze drifted around the room before meeting his again. “The bandages?”

He opened a drawer to reveal a small box. Farah dug through it until she’d located a length of linen. “I’ll need a bit of water.”

Grey excused himself to retrieve the small basin of water that sat in his room. For a brief moment, his attention was drawn to his bed, and he wondered if he ought to send her away.

Wondered if this was dangerous.

No. You only mean to ask her questions.

Yes, questions. She would ask hers, he would ask his, they would bid each other good night, and that would be that.

When he returned to the study, Farah took the basin from him and gestured to the chair behind his desk. “Sit down. We’ll just do a little cleaning and bandaging.”

“It’s only a scratch,” he argued, even as he did as he was told. His heart stuttered as she propped herself up on the corner of the table, the silk fabric of her costume pooling around her, slippered feet barely reaching the floor.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She took his hand in hers and lifted it to her face. Her skin was cool and comforting, the polar opposite of his. He was a grown man, for God’s sake. A woman’s touch against his hand shouldn’t do this to him.

Reaching into the tin box, she pulled out a small sponge. She dipped it into the water and began to clean the blood off his knuckles in slow, careful wipes. The wounds had long since stopped bleeding, but she still handled him as if he were some breakable, delicate creature. Grey watched her, mesmerized by her careful focus. When she was satisfied, she wrapped the linen bandage around his knuckles and palm, tucking the end in to secure it in place.

“Just for the night,” she whispered, running her thumb across the soft fabric that covered his palm. The gentle motion sent warmth coursing up his arm. She fixed her dark eyes upon him, her head tilted in curiosity. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Grey exhaled. “I tried to hit Francis.”

“Because you found him with a woman?”

Nodding, Grey let out a rough, “Yes.”

“You really needn’t fight my battles for me, Grey,” she said. “I’m a grown woman, after all.”

“I know you are. And I—you’re right, of course, but—”