step.
She hesitated, nervously fingering the doorknob, as if she might wish to flee.
Matthew hid his annoyance to make her a leg. It was one thing for the footman to think him a lunatic, quite another for someone who had known his kindness to fear him so.
"Helen." He invited her into the room with a questioning note.
"Matthew . . ." She moved forward to give him her hand, then withdrew it quickly. "I must admit your visit comes as a surprise."
"I am certain it does. I hope, however, that you will not find it too unpleasant. I promise you, I mean no harm. To you." He had to qualify that last statement for she would not believe he was in charity with her husband, not after the accusations Sir Julian had made.
Helen flushed and begged him to be seated. Once they were settled across from each other, she had difficulty meeting his eye.
As the silence between them stretched, she began to speak in a wavering voice. "Julian informed me that you made an appearance at the Association meeting last Saturday."
"Yes, I did." Matthew frowned. "I confess to being somewhat surprised that he mentioned it to you, however."
"Oh, Julian and I have no secrets from each other."
"You are most fortunate," Matthew said wryly, and he saw her flush again.
"Julian said--“ Helen hastened her speech--"that you had a remarkably beautiful young lady with you."
"Yes, I did. Her name is Faye Meriwether, but perhaps you have met her."
"No."
"She does not often indulge in society's pleasures, or so she tells me."
"Then, it is you who is fortunate."
Helen's statement caught him off guard. "I beg your pardon?" Matthew asked.
"Oh, Matthew . . . have you forgotten what you were like? Always so ungracious about my desire for society. I am happy you have found someone who shares your taste."
Matthew was astonished to feel himself coloring up. "Oh, as to that--nothing has been settled . . ."
"But from what Julian told me, Miss Meriwether is plainly in love with you."
The jolt of Helen's statement sent Matthew's head ringing. This was not why he had called and not the way the conversation was supposed to go.
But how was it supposed to go?
"Tell me truly, Helen." He took the direct approach to clear his head. "Was that why you jilted me? Because I had no liking for balls?"
His use of such brutal words made her flinch, but she quickly squared her shoulders. "No! I would not have married Julian if I had believed you were still alive, though I am heartily glad I did. But--two years, Matthew. Surely that was more than long enough to wait. And then, when Julian came back and informed us all that he feared you had died and under what circumstances--"
At Matthew's angry look, Helen's recital broke off. She resumed, "But regardless of the circumstances, I believed you were dead. What was I to do? Stay a spinster? Give up every chance for a life?"
"Did you not have a life without marriage?"
"Certainly not. What woman does?"
Faye does, Matthew thought, though he did not speak the words aloud, for he sensed how unfair they were. It was useless to compare Helen to Faye, even though he had not realized before what a coward Helen was. And even that last thought was grossly unfair.
Helen was neither more nor less than most of her kind. She was precisely what she had been raised to be. Whereas Faye--
Faye was as eccentric and boundless as he was.
The sudden realization that they were meant for each other elated him, and he wanted to kiss Helen for it.
Just then, however, the drawing room door flew open, and Sir Julian burst inside.
"If you have harmed one hair on her head--" He broke off at the sight of them sitting in civilized converse.
Helen's shock turned instantly to dismay. "Julian, dear--"
Matthew folded his arms and settled back into his chair.
"Hello, Speck," he said with distaste.
Chapter Seven
"What do you mean by this, Dunstone?" Sir Julian stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, never taking his eyes
She hesitated, nervously fingering the doorknob, as if she might wish to flee.
Matthew hid his annoyance to make her a leg. It was one thing for the footman to think him a lunatic, quite another for someone who had known his kindness to fear him so.
"Helen." He invited her into the room with a questioning note.
"Matthew . . ." She moved forward to give him her hand, then withdrew it quickly. "I must admit your visit comes as a surprise."
"I am certain it does. I hope, however, that you will not find it too unpleasant. I promise you, I mean no harm. To you." He had to qualify that last statement for she would not believe he was in charity with her husband, not after the accusations Sir Julian had made.
Helen flushed and begged him to be seated. Once they were settled across from each other, she had difficulty meeting his eye.
As the silence between them stretched, she began to speak in a wavering voice. "Julian informed me that you made an appearance at the Association meeting last Saturday."
"Yes, I did." Matthew frowned. "I confess to being somewhat surprised that he mentioned it to you, however."
"Oh, Julian and I have no secrets from each other."
"You are most fortunate," Matthew said wryly, and he saw her flush again.
"Julian said--“ Helen hastened her speech--"that you had a remarkably beautiful young lady with you."
"Yes, I did. Her name is Faye Meriwether, but perhaps you have met her."
"No."
"She does not often indulge in society's pleasures, or so she tells me."
"Then, it is you who is fortunate."
Helen's statement caught him off guard. "I beg your pardon?" Matthew asked.
"Oh, Matthew . . . have you forgotten what you were like? Always so ungracious about my desire for society. I am happy you have found someone who shares your taste."
Matthew was astonished to feel himself coloring up. "Oh, as to that--nothing has been settled . . ."
"But from what Julian told me, Miss Meriwether is plainly in love with you."
The jolt of Helen's statement sent Matthew's head ringing. This was not why he had called and not the way the conversation was supposed to go.
But how was it supposed to go?
"Tell me truly, Helen." He took the direct approach to clear his head. "Was that why you jilted me? Because I had no liking for balls?"
His use of such brutal words made her flinch, but she quickly squared her shoulders. "No! I would not have married Julian if I had believed you were still alive, though I am heartily glad I did. But--two years, Matthew. Surely that was more than long enough to wait. And then, when Julian came back and informed us all that he feared you had died and under what circumstances--"
At Matthew's angry look, Helen's recital broke off. She resumed, "But regardless of the circumstances, I believed you were dead. What was I to do? Stay a spinster? Give up every chance for a life?"
"Did you not have a life without marriage?"
"Certainly not. What woman does?"
Faye does, Matthew thought, though he did not speak the words aloud, for he sensed how unfair they were. It was useless to compare Helen to Faye, even though he had not realized before what a coward Helen was. And even that last thought was grossly unfair.
Helen was neither more nor less than most of her kind. She was precisely what she had been raised to be. Whereas Faye--
Faye was as eccentric and boundless as he was.
The sudden realization that they were meant for each other elated him, and he wanted to kiss Helen for it.
Just then, however, the drawing room door flew open, and Sir Julian burst inside.
"If you have harmed one hair on her head--" He broke off at the sight of them sitting in civilized converse.
Helen's shock turned instantly to dismay. "Julian, dear--"
Matthew folded his arms and settled back into his chair.
"Hello, Speck," he said with distaste.
Chapter Seven
"What do you mean by this, Dunstone?" Sir Julian stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, never taking his eyes
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