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Authors: Patricia Wynn
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brow to spare her the sight.
"Surely that cannot be true," she ventured after an interminable pause.
"I'm quite afraid that it is. But it's a long story, one I will not bore you with."
Concern and restrained curiosity played across her face, but he would not give in to them. He had already revealed too much. Let her hear from others how seriously he had been discredited, he thought.
Then, all at once, a radical change came over her demeanor. A militant gleam lit her eyes.
"If you have lost your former friends," she said with a mischievous dimple in each cheek, "that is all the more reason to introduce them to me."
"What?" Matthew gave an incredulous bark of laughter.
"I said, it would be better to let me speak to them."
"Oh?" He studied her. Something in her look made him wish to hear more. "To say what precisely?"
"Oh--" that smug little chin of hers was in the air again--"nothing in particular. But," she added with a wink, "I assure you I have my ways of dealing with foolish men."
Sir Joseph Banks, a fool? Some of the profoundest minds of their day, mere foolish men? Matthew wanted to break into laughter. But, he realized with a start, any such outburst from him would be of pure exhilaration, untinged by spite. When he puzzled over his reaction, the explanation immediately came: Faye believed in him.
She had not asked what he had done to lose the respect of such an august body. She gave no sign of believing his ostracism was merited. Without a blink or a justification from him, she had taken his side.
Such blind acceptance had given him the greatest lift he'd had since he'd begun to believe he would make it home alive from his last expedition. And that former rush had lasted so brief a time. Just long enough for him to return home to find his reputation ruined and his fiancée married to someone else.
The immensity of that disappointment, the dashing of his fondest dreams, should have made him cautious now; but he found that, despite the extreme exhaustion that threatened to overtake him, he did not want to give up this one spark of hope. It might be mad in the extreme--it most assuredly was--but something inside him very much wanted to see what Faye could accomplish with those men.
They might think him a liar, a coward, and a scoundrel, but at least they would see he had very good taste and the support of one very charming person--which was just what his vanity needed. They were all gentlemen. There was no possibility that they would treat her with rudeness, especially not with her pretty face.
Glancing at Faye now, and feeling the immense pull of her charm, Matthew could almost feel pity for those men. They were extremely competitive. He could practically see them elbowing each other out of the way for a chance to make fools of themselves.
"Very well," he said, before fatigue and reason could make him change his mind. "I can take you to their next dinner meeting, which should be this Saturday. But I must warn you, the governing committee meets in a tavern in Pall Mall. Are you certain you wish to appear?"
"Absolutely," she said, and he could not doubt it. "As soon as you determine for certain what time we should go, you must drop me a note at this address." She reached into her reticule for a card and handed it to him.
Like the first, it was engraved in gold. Not the usual fancy of a fortune-hunter. Matthew felt absurdly relieved by this proof that she was what she pretended to be.
The card gave an address in Meadows Lane. "I have not driven much in London this past year, and before that, I was traveling. Where is Meadows Lane?" he asked. "I do not recall the name."
"It is not far from the park. I shall send you directions.
"And, now," she said, changing the subject abruptly, "I greatly fear that I must get on with my errands. If you would be so kind as to drop me in Bond Street?"
Matthew gave his driver the word, and they had soon pulled over in front of a millinery Faye had pointed out. At the end
"Surely that cannot be true," she ventured after an interminable pause.
"I'm quite afraid that it is. But it's a long story, one I will not bore you with."
Concern and restrained curiosity played across her face, but he would not give in to them. He had already revealed too much. Let her hear from others how seriously he had been discredited, he thought.
Then, all at once, a radical change came over her demeanor. A militant gleam lit her eyes.
"If you have lost your former friends," she said with a mischievous dimple in each cheek, "that is all the more reason to introduce them to me."
"What?" Matthew gave an incredulous bark of laughter.
"I said, it would be better to let me speak to them."
"Oh?" He studied her. Something in her look made him wish to hear more. "To say what precisely?"
"Oh--" that smug little chin of hers was in the air again--"nothing in particular. But," she added with a wink, "I assure you I have my ways of dealing with foolish men."
Sir Joseph Banks, a fool? Some of the profoundest minds of their day, mere foolish men? Matthew wanted to break into laughter. But, he realized with a start, any such outburst from him would be of pure exhilaration, untinged by spite. When he puzzled over his reaction, the explanation immediately came: Faye believed in him.
She had not asked what he had done to lose the respect of such an august body. She gave no sign of believing his ostracism was merited. Without a blink or a justification from him, she had taken his side.
Such blind acceptance had given him the greatest lift he'd had since he'd begun to believe he would make it home alive from his last expedition. And that former rush had lasted so brief a time. Just long enough for him to return home to find his reputation ruined and his fiancée married to someone else.
The immensity of that disappointment, the dashing of his fondest dreams, should have made him cautious now; but he found that, despite the extreme exhaustion that threatened to overtake him, he did not want to give up this one spark of hope. It might be mad in the extreme--it most assuredly was--but something inside him very much wanted to see what Faye could accomplish with those men.
They might think him a liar, a coward, and a scoundrel, but at least they would see he had very good taste and the support of one very charming person--which was just what his vanity needed. They were all gentlemen. There was no possibility that they would treat her with rudeness, especially not with her pretty face.
Glancing at Faye now, and feeling the immense pull of her charm, Matthew could almost feel pity for those men. They were extremely competitive. He could practically see them elbowing each other out of the way for a chance to make fools of themselves.
"Very well," he said, before fatigue and reason could make him change his mind. "I can take you to their next dinner meeting, which should be this Saturday. But I must warn you, the governing committee meets in a tavern in Pall Mall. Are you certain you wish to appear?"
"Absolutely," she said, and he could not doubt it. "As soon as you determine for certain what time we should go, you must drop me a note at this address." She reached into her reticule for a card and handed it to him.
Like the first, it was engraved in gold. Not the usual fancy of a fortune-hunter. Matthew felt absurdly relieved by this proof that she was what she pretended to be.
The card gave an address in Meadows Lane. "I have not driven much in London this past year, and before that, I was traveling. Where is Meadows Lane?" he asked. "I do not recall the name."
"It is not far from the park. I shall send you directions.
"And, now," she said, changing the subject abruptly, "I greatly fear that I must get on with my errands. If you would be so kind as to drop me in Bond Street?"
Matthew gave his driver the word, and they had soon pulled over in front of a millinery Faye had pointed out. At the end
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