Page 86 of A Lady’s Guide to Mystery and Mischief

When the carriage came to a stop in front of Montgomery House, Grey almost dissolved in relief. Finally, he could sit alone, lick his wounds, think about what the hell he was supposed to do with himself.

“The day after next, then? For supper?”

Grey turned to Oliver, who was pinning him with an excitable eagerness he couldn’t remember ever experiencing himself. “The day after next.”

He watched them disappear down the street toward Rosewood after they exchanged their farewells. For a moment, he stood still, letting the chilly night air seep through the layers of his clothing. There was nowhere to go now but inside Montgomery House. The entryway greeted him, cluttered and warm, filling his heart with an odd kind of solace. Taking care to keep quiet, he made for the stairs.

“Well, well, well,” came a shrewd voice. “If it isn’t Peregrine. I thought I’d never see your face around here again.”

Grey saw his grandmother’s hunched form through the parlor door. “I haven’t been gone that long.”

“If you’re implying that I’m unable to accurately measure the passage of time, I won’t hear it,” she said. “Come sit.”

Grey opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by his grandmother’s expression. “Not for too long. I’m exhausted.”

The minute he sat across from Leila, he felt it—the intense need to tell her all. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been holding inside himself, how badly he needed to simply share. It wasn’t like him to feel this way. It wasn’t like him to want to be vulnerable, to want to crack his heart open and offer every tangled emotion up for judgment.

Leila narrowed her eyes at him over the rim of her teacup. “I can tell you want to say something.”

Grey sighed. “You’re right. I don’t know where to begin.”

“I’m always right,” she said. “Begin wherever you please.”

Running a hand over his face, Grey started to speak. At first, it was a rehashing of his first encounter with Farah, something his grandmother had already heard bits and pieces of. The moment he realized where he was headed, he came to an abrupt stop.

“What is it?”

“There’s something you need to know,” he said. “For all of this to make sense, I mean. I—don’t know how to—I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” Leila repeated. “Did you kill someone?”

“What? No, of course I didn’t—”

“A pity. I thought you’d done us favor by finally ridding the world of Francis.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Of course I am,” Leila said, taking great pains, Grey thought, to sound unconvincing. “In all seriousness, Peregrine, do not worry about disappointing me. Even if you did, I would find a way to move past it.”

“You don’t move past things. You still hold a grudge against the woman who bought the emerald necklace you’d been eyeing at the jeweler’s,” Grey reminded her. “And that was six years ago.”

“Yes, well, she should have understood that it would have suited me far better than it did her,” Leila said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Go on.”

“Do you remember the money I kept at Hawkins & Montgomery? The amount meant to cover Francis’s outstanding debts upon the release of his inheritance?”

“Ah, yes,” Leila deadpanned. “The one thousand pounds. I would wager that your cousin’s debts exceed such a paltry sum.”

“Yes, well—” Grey cleared his throat. “—it was stolen.”

A tense silence fell, during which Leila stared at Grey, her mouth pressed into a thin, disapproving line. Just as he’d decided to beg her to speak, she let out a throaty chuckle. “Does Francis know?”

“No,” Grey said. “And why are you laughing?”

“Oh, Peregrine.” She reached forward to hold his hands in hers. “I’m laughing because you were worried I’d be disappointed in something you didn’t even do.”

“It’s my fault, though,” Grey insisted. “I should have been more careful, taken greater measures to—”

“You could never disappoint me,” she interrupted, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. “You do know that, don’t you?”