Chapter Eleven

M atthew tried to shake off the shimmers, as he called the case of nerves. He hadn't felt the like in ... actually, never. Usually, he strolled into an assembly with the confidence of a single man about town who needed nothing and no one. And he often left with the female of his choice or at least with her agreement to meet discreetly later.

While somewhat surprised, he had been beyond pleased to receive an invitation to a party at the Diamonds' residence. The earl and his countess were known as excellent hosts. Naturally, he concluded he was there at Purity's behest. And thus, with his pleasure came a little nervousness. More than he'd ever felt in his life, he wanted her to like him.

If Purity believed him up to snuff in terms of his manners to be in her parents' home and at their table, that was one thing, a rather good thing, at that. However, if she also wished to partner with him while dining, then he would know he was making slow but sure headway, like a ship sailing into the wind.

Unfortunately, on the appointed night, once Matthew arrived, he did not feel singled out despite having kissed her recently in the very room in which he now stood. Upon entering, he soon realized he was one of many unmarried men, including that oaf Emberry and even Quinn.

"Well met," he said, shaking hands with the latter and helping himself to a glass of claret. "This is an unexpected gathering."

"How so?" Quinn asked.

"I didn't see upon the invitation any mention that this was an assembly of the desperately single."

Quinn laughed. "You must not have looked closely enough, old chap. Besides, why else did you come?"

Foxford shrugged. "Curiosity, I suppose." He wasn't going to mention how he would go to the ends of the earth if Purity asked him.

"There's Pearson," he added as the viscount strolled in. "I suppose he had to be invited, given his title and fortune, but I swear the man could send a chattering monkey into a stupor of somnambulance within seconds. I can hardly keep my eyes open merely looking at him."

"You're in fine form tonight. Irritated that you won't have the Diamond daughter all to yourself?"

Foxford made a face. "And how did you get on the guest list?"

"I have you to thank, don't you think?" Quinn said. "I must have made such a good impression on your lady when you introduced me at the Tisendale ball."

"You must have. It certainly wasn't your behavior at Vauxhall." Foxford was a little sore at Quinn for that debacle, as his friend had brought the three doxies over while Matthew was hunting down Purity with no luck.

Quinn winced. "I forgot she witnessed that."

"What she didn't witness, The Times thoughtfully filled in."

Quinn lifted his glass in a toast. "Ah, yes. I made out slightly less debauched by going home with only one game pullet."

"I didn't go home with any of them," Matthew insisted, but he could see even his friend didn't believe him. "In any case, I explained —"

He interrupted himself when the double doors to the drawing room opened and a bouquet of young ladies entered at once.

What a silly, fantastical, wonderful idea , he thought, to have all the ladies enter as a group. Yet it did none of the other females any good. His glance fell upon Purity and stayed there. Clad in a plum satin with silver trim, she was every inch a shining jewel.

"Breathtaking," he murmured.

"Which one?" Quinn asked. "Or all of them?"

Matthew didn't answer nor did he move. Most of the men took a step in the ladies' direction toward one or the other, but he wasn't most men. He watched the majority close in upon Purity, yet she waved them aside, nodding politely but parting them like tall grass. To his delight, she came over to where he and Quinn stood.

"Good evening, fair lady," Quinn said first.

"Good evening, my lord. So glad you could come."

And then she was all his. Matthew waited for the moment she held out her hand to him, the only man to whom she had given the favor.

He took it, squeezed it gently in acknowledgment, and bowed.

"Good evening, my lady. I am honored to have been invited."

Her eyes sparkled up at him. "I especially wanted to make up for my misjudgment and hoped this dinner party will serve as a satisfactory apology."

Stunned by her frankness, especially in front of Quinn, who didn't have the grace to bugger off and leave them in private.

"It was unnecessary," Matthew returned. "Anyone would think what you thought, and the fault for your opinion of me rests entirely upon my shoulders."

She smiled sweetly at his words. And they were back to being upon solid footing. Now, he could only hope there was no mucking around with giving him another dining companion.

Her parents entered the room at that moment, making sure everyone had a drink so they could toast to one another's health. After about twenty minutes of idle prattle, in which Purity and all the other ladies made a point to greet and speak with each of the bachelors, they went in to dinner.

As Matthew had hoped, Purity let him take her arm and his name card was next to hers.

Did this signify what he hoped? Fervently, he wanted to give up the ruse of finding a wife when the woman he most desired was beside him.

At the very least, it sent a message to the other bachelors that he was being singled out with honor. Moreover, he would acknowledge such by being on his best behavior. He would be a saint, not even looking down her décolletage.

Whoops! That was precisely what he was doing, and he quickly averted his eyes, not peeking even once again.

Strangely, Matthew enjoyed the evening anyway, despite the impossibility of getting her into an upstairs room for the most hurried of trysts. Purity's company throughout dinner was exactly like her eyes, sparkling, entirely different from the quiet, disapproving female beside whom he'd sat at the Fenwicks' table. And even though conversation darted across and around the table, he still felt connected to her by her glances and short discussions with him alone.

After the fine meal, as expected from an earl's household, they all retired to a large salon at the back of the house overlooking the garden. None of the gentlemen were invited to remain in the dining room for brandy, since they could do that any time.

Instead, port, pale sherry, and Indian Madeira were offered while the ladies wishing to sing or play the piano told Lady Diamond, who quickly arranged the order. After stretching their legs and sipping their drinks for a few minutes, the guests settled onto arranged chairs for the evening's performances.

At the tail end, Purity's mother nodded in her direction.

Since Matthew was seated beside her, he felt her sigh.

"My turn to display my talents," she whispered.

He chuckled, not caring a fig whether she could sing or play. He'd listened politely to the other ladies but hadn't been particularly moved, even by a good voice singing "Love Always" or a bad one taking on the positively endless "Tragical Ballad of the Lady who Fell in Love with Her Serving Man."

By the final stanzas of the latter, Matthew was ready to hang himself by the curtain scarf if he thought the rod would stand his weight.

After it came an adequate rendition of one of John Field's "Nocturnes," and Matthew had thought the evening's entertainment was improving. Regardless, it seemed silly to think any young lady ought to be of an amateur standard high enough to entertain a roomful of critical ton , especially for the purpose of obtaining a husband.

After all, Matthew wasn't about to whip out a dueling pistol and demonstrate what a good shot he was.

However, when the first notes of Beethoven's "Für Elise" flowed from under Purity's fingers, Matthew could tell she had undertaken her piano instruction as she did everything in life, with determination to do it correctly and well.

In her case, that meant being far beyond capable. She must have practiced many hours to make the playing appear effortless. What's more, he could understand why their hostess had saved her daughter for last. It would not have been fair to the other ladies to follow such an astonishing performance.

Along with everyone in the room, he remained hushed and enraptured, leaning slightly forward in his seat, breathing as quietly as possible until the end. When the final soulful, heartbreaking notes died out, they all clapped enthusiastically. Purity stood and curtsied to her audience.

Rising spontaneously to his feet, Matthew clapped harder than anyone and roared his approval.

"Brava!" he called out.

At his reaction, the room fell silent again. Purity stared at him, cheeks blooming with color, and gave a barely discernible shake of her head. The other guests looked from her, to him, and then away with awkward glances.

Chastised, Matthew took his seat once more. He really did need lessons in etiquette. If he'd done that at a concert hall, he would have been joined by the multitude of listeners. Apparently in a private salon, his response was supposed to be restrained.

Purity didn't return to her seat. Instead, Lord Diamond announced they were returning to the drawing room where there was a treat to top off the evening.

Trays of syllabub met the guests' eyes when they entered, but Matthew wasn't interested. Although he very much enjoyed the traditional English concoction, having missed it while in France, he didn't take a serving. Even knowing this had been freshly made while they listened to the music, for the cream and white wine had not separated from the fruit juice in the glass dishes, his only interest was Purity, who was keeping her distance.

She hadn't allowed him to walk near her on the way back from the salon, and now she hovered between her parents.

"You made a muck of that," Quinn said as he came up beside him, holding his dessert. "This is heaven by the way."

Heaven had been listening to Purity. Heaven had been in her good graces all evening. Heaven was not frothy syllabub, but with nothing better to do, he turned and snatched one from the tray.

"Delicious," he muttered, attacking it ruthlessly, all the while staring at Purity who was deliberately not looking in his direction.

Half an hour later when the party ended, Matthew had managed to get no closer to her. Yet as he approached Lord and Lady Diamond, Purity did not shy away. After thanking his hosts, he glanced at her, and as she had done at the evening's onset, she offered him her hand.

"Good evening, Lady Purity." He wouldn't apologize, as that might only embarrass her again. But with her intense blue gaze fixed upon him, he mouthed the words, "I'm sorry" before he turned away.

Purity looked at the squirming sack her father carried into the drawing room where she and her sisters were reading and jumped to her feet. When he set it on the low table before the sofa, she peered inside and anger bloomed inside her.

"Kittens!" she exclaimed. "Did Lord Foxford send these?" The question was out before she could reconsider.

It had been two days since his breach of decorum at the party, naturally making every person in the room believe they had some sort of arrangement or understanding.

However, she knew her mortification had been inadvertent upon his part, and she didn't hold a grudge. After all, it was not as if they had been caught alone together and had their names linked in the newspapers.

Yet instead of a written note of apology, he was sending kittens. How would she explain this to her family?

"Foxford?" her father repeated while Ray and Bri squealed their excitement, each reaching in to pick up one of the wiggly balls of fluff. "Of course not," he said. "I found these little rascals at Tattersall's. The mama cat had birthed them in the clean hay, and the stable manager was making a fuss. He had put them all in the sack and was ready to toss them into the Thames."

"How dreadful," Ray said. "But their eyes are closed. They are too young to survive without their mother."

"Which is why I brought her home, too." He looked behind him. "Where is that footman?"

A moment later, the young man entered, holding a struggling, spitting cat by the scruff of its neck.

"Apologies, my lord. I all but lost it in the mews." With that, the cat made another desperate twist and escaped the footman's hold, dropping to the floor and instantly running under the sofa.

"I suggest we close the door," Purity said, which the man did on his way out. Then she lifted the canvas sack from the table and put it beside the hearth, rolling down the edges until it was evenly low all around and they could see the remaining helpless kittens.

"Put the babies back," she instructed her sisters, who did as they were told. Then she stood with her father and watched as the loud mewling of the kittens brought the frightened mama cat out from hiding.

In a flash of her tail, she jumped into the bag, too, protecting her babies while trying to settle beside them so they could nurse.

"She needs a larger bed," her father said. "And a more permanent place to live than this room. Somewhere out of the way until the kittens are weaned."

Purity smiled at her sisters. They were blessed with a considerate, gentle father in Geoffrey Diamond.

"May I keep them in my room?" Bri asked.

"I don't see why not," the earl said.

And that settled the excitement of the morning. Undoubtedly, their mother would approve of taking in a whole family of stray felines because of her soft heart.

"I guess we don't need a small companion dog now," Purity reminded him, having heard no more about it since the encounter in his study.

Her father cleared his throat. "No, it shall be lively enough for the time being. You two, go ask Mrs. Cumby for something larger for this brood, maybe a picnic basket," their father said, and her younger sisters scurried off, seeming to be children again instead of in their teens.

"And you," Lord Diamond said when they were alone, "why don't you tell me what's going on between you and Foxford."