Page 66 of A Lady’s Guide to Mystery and Mischief

Don’t marry Francis.

I love you.

Love, the very thing he’d sworn off five years ago, back to haunt him with a vengeance. It was just as he remembered it, but more painful this time, stronger and poised to destroy him. But it was the truth—he loved her. He’d loved her for God knows how long and had dismissed it for longer.

Did it matter? Should he tell her?

“What is it?” she asked, still smiling as she pushed a pin into her hair.

“Is there anywhere to stay in the village? Perhaps I ought to find myself a room.”

Ever the coward.

But was it cowardice, really? He would be complicating a situation that may very well be clear cut in her mind. She would make her choice, and he had no doubt that he would be one of the first people to hear what she decided.

Whatever this elusive right thing ended up being, it would dictate his next steps.

You could ask her what she’s decided. You don’t have to wait.

Yes, he could. But in that regard, he was a coward. There was no arguing it.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, pulling at her sleeves. “We’ll make up a room for you.”

“I don’t think—”

“My family won’t hear of it,” she interrupted. “Visitors are few and far between, so everyone will be most curious to know you.”

“Wonderful,” he bit out.

Back into the role of sensible solicitor he would go. As far as her family was concerned, she had entered into an understanding with Francis Beaumont. Grey had accompanied her back to Painswick as her aunt’s solicitor, and—

God, the whole thing sounded absurd.

“You don’t have to worry about impressing anyone,” she continued. “Everything is much less proper out in the country.”

“How much is much?”

She smoothed the wrinkles out of her skirt. “We do our best.”

Grey felt the beginnings of a headache creep up on him. He was used to town, to stone and smog. All the open space outside, the color—it made a person aware of themselves. After all, there were no crowds to disappear into. Happy as Farah appeared to have returned here, he was beginning to understand why she did not intend to stay forever. What was one meant to do in such isolation? Sit with their painful, unwelcome feelings?

No, thank you.

The carriage finally came to a stop in front of a beautiful house, bringing their journey to a close.

“Welcome to Northborough,” Farah said, taking the coachman’s hand as she hopped out of the carriage. Her attention was redirected as a voice called her name. “Oh, Kalila!”

Grey took a deep breath. All would be well.

Keep telling yourself that, Grey, he thought as he stepped out of the carriage and into the too-fresh air. Keep telling yourself that.

Chapter Sixteen

Grey was not a fanciful man, but even he could admit that he’d stepped out of the carriage and into something of a fairyland. Everything around him was green and beautiful; once he’d adjusted to the crispness of the air, he realized the breeze left a recognizable, grassy scent in its wake.

Recognizable because it was all Farah, and unmistakably so.

When he finally managed to tear his gaze away from the pretty house before him, he saw Farah happily grasping the hands of the dark-haired woman who had called her name.