Free The Christmas Spirit by Patricia Wynn Page A

it too vulgar?"
    "Nothing you've chosen could possibly be vulgar," Matthew reassured her, unsettled by her dismay and amazed to find within himself the gallantry to address it. He had always been curt and abrupt, much too busy to consider another person's feelings. But the impulse to comfort Faye had come quite naturally.
    He offered her his arm to escort her in. But, just then, another figure as delicate as Faye's emerged from the carriage.
    In response to his questioning look, Faye said, "I thought I should bring my maid."
    Normally, that explanation would have sufficed, but Matthew could not bring himself to ignore Faye's maid. She was curiously dressed in a cloak of uncommon luxury, which had all the appearance of cashmere. Before Matthew could ponder the question of whether this was evidence of Faye's rash generosity or rather proof of the same vain impulse that had led her to gild the wheels of her carriage, he noted the girl's stunning face and it riveted his eye.
    The maid was every bit as lovely as Faye, with golden blond hair of a satin fineness. She had sapphire blue eyes, the color so intense, it was visible even in dim lantern light. She raked him up and down with a bold glance before ruining her marvelous impression by raising one hand and dissolving in a fit of giggles.
    "Grace!" The anguished reminder from Faye had almost no effect on the girl, who gave her mistress a sullen glance, before resuming her open flirtation.
    If Grace had adorned the drawing rooms of London, she would have been considered a diamond of the first water, no matter how appallingly forward her manners might be. As it was--even considering her low degree of birth--Matthew had no doubt she had a promising chance of becoming the city's most famous courtesan.
    "Saab--" Ahmad's voice came from behind him, stern and full of warning.
    Matthew tore his glance away from the girl, aware that Faye, too, was awaiting him anxiously, which made him wonder why on earth she had ever employed the girl. Grace's charms posed no danger to him, but it would be very hard to keep followers from gathering about her, especially when it appeared that the bold piece would give them every encouragement.
    "Shall we go in?" Matthew ignored Ahmad's attempts to meet his eye.
    Frustrated, the big Pathan waited for them all to pass before following them.
    As Matthew and Faye turned their backs on Grace to head inside, he felt a distinct relaxation on Faye's part.
    "I thought the gentlemen of the African Association would take it amiss if I appeared unchaperoned with you," Faye whispered, "else I would never have brought Grace. I am terribly afraid she is not civilized enough to be taken into polite society."
    Matthew had no time to ponder this strange remark for they were soon inside and had other, more immediate matters to face.
    With this moment finally upon them, he felt a resurgence of some of his former strength. The same unflinching courage that had allowed him to look death in the face every day for two long years made him lengthen his stride now.
    What, frankly, could happen to him as a result of this night's business, except that the members might attempt to have him expelled? And since they had tried that once already, what more did he have to lose?
    Faye's dainty fingers on his arm had infused him with a churning confidence, and he somehow knew that no degree of disgust on his enemies' part would deter her from her mission. As they entered the hall of the tavern, which led to the private dining room, he could feel her support in the faint squeeze she gave his arm. When he peered down, she gave him a wink so full of conspiratorial mischief as to make him eager for the scene ahead.
    Grace was told to stay outside in the corridor with the serving men. His arms folded on his chest, Ahmad glowered at her from the corner. As soon as Matthew turned his back on them, he heard her chair being surrounded by the servants who were waiting nearby for their masters' orders.