The Christmas Spirit by Patricia Wynn Page A

everywhere put him in mind of his ride in the park with Faye. He remembered how dull he had felt then, only a short time past, and how her daring had awakened him. She was every bit as courageous in her own way as he had been when he'd first set out on his travels.
    No more than fifteen minutes brought him to Sir Julian's door. His knock was answered by a footman who instantly recognized Sir Matthew Dunstone and, remembering the scene Matthew had made on a former occasion, anxiously informed him that neither his master nor mistress was at home.
    Matthew, who knew the habits of both very well, had no trouble deciphering this message. When he asked if he might come in to leave a note, the footman tried to close the door in his face.
    Matthew put one hand out to prevent him and forced the door ajar. For this maneuver he needed a measure of strength, and he was happy to find that he had at least this much.
    Speaking calmly, he managed to gain the footman's ear long enough to say, "Please tell your mistress that Sir Matthew Dunstone has called to pay his respects. And, if she has no wish to receive me, I promise to go away."
    "It'd be more'n my job is worth, sir, if I let you in." As he pressed on the door, the footman's face grew quite red.
    "I imagine it would be if I behaved the way I did last time I called, but I assure you that will not happen again."
    The rationality of his speech seemed to work, and the footman relaxed his grip on the door very slightly. Matthew gave a sign of faith by removing his hand.
    "Please inform Lady Speck that I have chosen to wait outside in the event she does not wish to see me."
    With a wary cast to his shoulders, the footman acquiesced, and Matthew took a step away from the house to recover his composure while he waited. He could not blame the footman for his inhospitality, for he remembered how loudly he had stormed the entrance of Sir Julian's house when he'd learned of Helen's defection. Even in his weakened state--and he recalled just how feeble he had felt when his anger had subsided--it had taken two footmen and Ahmad to expel him from the house.
    Recalling the humiliation of that day, Matthew was surprised by how little it bothered him now.
    More of Faye's influence?  He gave a wondering smile.
    After a few minutes, the door was opened again, and the footman eyed him cautiously. "The mistress says she will receive you." He bowed.
    As Matthew passed him in the vestibule, the footman added, "But no tricks, mind."
    "You have my solemn word."
    Strange, but he felt like laughing, as if a footman's insolence should be a cause for amusement. But Matthew had suffered much worse at the hands of lower beings than this poor servant. He applauded the lad's stance.
    He was shown into a drawing room he vaguely recalled as being decorated with a mixture of female furbelows with only the occasional sign of a male presence. Its fragile chairs with crimson damask had been chosen for the fashionable statement they made rather than for comfort, he discovered when he sat in one of them. Taking a look around, he wondered how differently Helen would have furnished her drawing room if she had been married to him.
    Though, Matthew acknowledged with a rueful grimace, he need not have wondered. He would have insisted upon having everything his way even if it meant that Helen would have spent a great portion of her days in a room designed to please him.
    Before he could ask himself the next logical question, how Faye would wish to arrange her drawing room, the door swung open, and he stood.
    Helen paused on the threshold. The past few years had not changed her much. Her pale blond hair was gathered simply in a chignon, just as he remembered it. Her eyes were still a gentle blue. The dignity of her gaze, which had first attracted him to her, seemed still to linger beneath her present wary glance. The only change Matthew could detect at all was a slight thickening at her waist and a certain heaviness in her