Chapter Thirteen

M atthew intended to get Purity away from the rest of her family as swiftly as possible before they decided to join in. He liked them, but he hadn't had a moment alone with her all day.

To his dismay, Quinn intercepted them after they were only a few yards away from those still seated. Matthew had just leaned down to tell her about his modest country manor in Surrey when his friend bounded up like a puppy with a young lady in tow.

"There you are, old sport, and the lovely Lady Purity. May I introduce Miss Moffett lately from Derwentwater in Keswick, who is here with her aunt and uncle? They are sponsoring her for the Season."

And with that, Purity took Miss blasted Moffett under her wing and walked ahead, leaving Matthew and Quinn to stroll behind.

"You meddlesome toad," Matthew said quietly.

Quinn laughed. "Come along, now, Foxy. You can't walk off with a Diamond under her parents' nose. With four of us, especially if the ladies stroll together, I don't think anyone will look at us twice."

"I could walk away with her, and I did . We have been stuck like a flock of birds all day, and I was looking forward to some private conversation. As long as we are within sight, no one minded a bit."

"Sorry, old chap. My mistake. I thought I was keeping you from another dreadful misstep. In any case, as soon as we get around the grove, then Miss Moffett and I shall part company with you and your lady."

"I don't recognize her at all from the Diamonds' dinner party."

"Because she wasn't at the party. I couldn't find the lady I was looking for," he added.

Quinn appeared unbothered by losing one woman, having quickly gained another.

"I just learned at the picnic that these gardens were designed by Capability Brown to create serene pleasure," Quinn said. "Hence, what else should one do here but pleasure each other? Miss Moffet and I are heading toward the hedges with the fountain in the middle."

"How wonderful for you," Matthew snapped. "So, you weren't looking to keep me from committing a scandalous slip but simply getting your latest prey away from her keepers."

"Something like that," Quinn said. "And your lady has done a capital job of helping me, too."

They passed by a thicket, and then Quinn sprinted ahead. "Ladies, this isn't a footrace, is it? You are walking too quickly for me. Regardless, I should now like to reclaim my hold upon Miss Moffett for the remainder of our promenade."

With that, he took hold of Miss Moffett's arm and strode away toward the hedges, leaving Purity frowning after them.

"I hope her aunt and uncle know she is alone with Lord Quinn. I feel responsible, as if I ought to continue to provide some sort of protection."

Glancing back the way they had come, she sighed. "What can her relations be thinking, letting a country girl go off with a stranger?"

Matthew was glad she didn't put their relationship on the same footing. After a moment, Purity shrugged.

"Some would say I am worrying overmuch about things that are plainly not my concern, nor in my control."

She tapped her chin, looking fetching, and he wanted to take her in his arms and ask to hear her deepest thoughts. He didn't have to. With her next words, he knew.

"Yet it is in my power to protect this young lady from ruin. Come along, Foxford."

She strode after the pair who had already disappeared.

Shaking his head, Matthew followed. Instead of a moment alone with her, they were going to play chaperone to his idiot friend, who most certainly wouldn't welcome the interference.

Soon, they were in the hedgerows, too. Quinn being his usual reckless self was moving at a fast clip into the densest part, making it hard to catch up. But Purity was equally determined to save Miss Moffett. She was like winged Nike, hurrying through the shrubberies until they reached the fountain.

"There you are," she declared, stopping so sharply that Matthew plummeted into the back of her, sending her sprawling with a cry of alarm.

She caught herself on the edge of the marble fountain's base, which hit her shins an instant before she planted her palms on its broad ledge and rose. Directly in front of her, in the middle of a small moat was the ten-foot statue of a naked warrior with long, muscular legs, a curved, long shield indicating his Roman nationality, and a long, thick—

"Oh, my!" Purity exclaimed as she stared at the appendage.

Perhaps the sculptor intended to frighten young ladies into behaving themselves, for even with a mostly flaccid lobcock, this soldier's member was impressive.

"I ...," she began. "That is. Well!" And she turned her back on it with her cheeks flaming.

"Are you unharmed?" Matthew asked, rushing forward. "A good thing you had your gloves on."

She looked down at them. "Yes, indeed, although they are not as fresh as they were when I left home." She brushed them together before realizing she'd lost her quarry as Quinn and Miss Moffett had vanished like morning mist.

"Your friend is incorrigible," she declared.

"You did your best by rooting them from this spot where they were trying to hide."

"Not they ! I doubt Miss Moffett had any clue what he was about."

Matthew smiled at her starched tone. "And what do you think he was about, my lady?"

Her blue eyes narrowed upon him. "We both know he wanted to kiss her."

Matthew feared Quinn wanted to do a great deal more, but he could hope Purity was correct.

"Not the worst thing to happen to a young lady from the country," he said.

Her gaze was still locked on his when he saw her eyes widen slightly. In the next, her glance fell to his lips, and hot lust jolted through him. His smile died completely.

"Not the worst thing to happen to a young lady from Town, either," he said quietly.

She swallowed, and he followed the movement of her throat, a beautiful column he wanted to kiss more than he wanted his next breath.

"I suppose they might be simply looking at the flowers and at the river beyond," she said, her voice a little breathless.

Alarm bells rang loudly in Matthew's head as if half of London was burning and all brigades had been called. His desire was certainly as scorching as any fire!

Perhaps it was the look on his face, desperate and ravenous, that caused her to spin away from him. Purity circled to the far side of the fountain where, if desired, she could enjoy the soldier's equally impressive naked rump, but she didn't. Instead, she craned her neck, looking up at the sky.

"We shall not see any stars come nightfall. The clouds are moving in thickly now. Don't you think?"

He didn't bother to look. He knew there was a breeze, growing stronger by the soft curls moving across her delicate shoulders.

She looked like a summer goddess, and even a ten-foot statue of her would not be enough to show off her beauty.

At his silence, she glanced at him again, and he moved helplessly toward her. When was the last time they'd kissed? Too blasted long!

He knew he ought to behave like a gentleman, which meant escorting her immediately to an area where there were other people. For the briefest moment, he nearly gave in to his nobler instincts, but his baser ones took over when she tilted her head.

She might not mean it as a come-hither look, but when her lips parted, he could feel the blood pulsing in his veins.

At least, he certainly felt it in one place.

Still, she said nothing.

He believed she knew how much he wanted her, and perhaps she wanted him as desperately.

"Foxford," she began and took a step toward him.

That was a mistake. She ought to have moved away.

Matthew didn't remember giving his feet the command to close the distance between them, but in an instant, she was in his arms as he had dreamt of all day.

Without hesitation, he kissed her like a thirsty man drank water. To stop himself from sinking his hands into her hair and destroying any semblance of a tidy coiffure, he grabbed her buttocks. As soon as her warm globes were in his hands, he couldn't help kneading them with his fingers and drawing her up against him.

Slanting his mouth sideways, he sought to devour her, and she let him. Their tongues were already stroking before he'd even realized he'd gained access between her sweet lips.

How long they kissed, he couldn't say. He knew only relief that she was giving as much as he was. Moreover, they were taking from one another with equal vigor.

When he drew back, he waited for her blue eyes to open. Would he see outrage creep over her face like the sun's fingers over the sill at dawn?

She sucked in a deep, shuddering breath.

"We ought to return to the other guests," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He grinned at this novel experience. "You forgot to slap me."

Her eyes widened. When she raised both her hands that had remained hanging on to his jacket, he flinched. Yet she merely slid them up his chest before lacing her fingers behind his neck.

"Kiss me again," she invited. "Maybe I'll remember to slap you this time."

Matthew bent his head and did so, tugging at her lower lip, making her moan. The sound was the most sensual thing he'd ever heard. Releasing her rear end with a firm squeeze, he put his hands to her trim waist and lifted her high against him.

To his delight, she laughed softly. He wanted to make her laugh every day for the rest of their lives.

Victory was sweet. He had done it at last. He had won her over. Matthew was sure of it. If she freely allowed his kiss and even asked for another, then she was all but accepting they would get engaged. For that was how Purity's brain worked. Her dear, wonderful, fastidious brain!

Letting her slide down the front of him, his arousal throbbing, he could imagine their wedding night already. And they would wait until that night. He was determined to honor her as a husband who wouldn't deflower his innocent bride ahead of time. Although he would be sorely tested, even by the shortest of engagements.

Tilting his head, he leaned in for another soul-searing kiss.

"What have we here?" came a male voice. "Lovers about to have a flyer?"

"Or perhaps they just had one," said a female. "Did you hear her laughing as he groped her?"

Purity froze in his arms. It was too late for jumping apart, but they separated anyway. Matthew's heart was pounding so hard, he could hear it. By the look upon her stricken face, hers was also beating an erratic tattoo.

Slowly facing their discoverers, he recognized Varley and the blonde-haired Lady Tupmoure with whom he'd dallied in the month before he went to France. He'd seen them together before at Lady Tisendale's ball. All at once her given name — Emilia — came to him along with her excessive ire when he had left her bed for the final time, after announcing he was leaving the country by week's end.

Taking a step forward, he hoped to shield Purity, who remained deathly silent. She was undoubtedly terrified of the repercussions. He could only hope they didn't know her name.

"Varley," Matthew said. "What are you and her ladyship doing out here?" Turning the tables was the best way to disarm the issue. "Being out here together, if you're discovered, people will talk."

A moment of silence followed, and then the two intruders started to laugh.

"Foxford, that is rich! I say, have you met my wife?"

Varley's wife! Met her? She'd ridden rantipole atop him more than once. And worse, Lord and Lady Varley could be outside for as long as they wished and do everything except strip off and dance in the fountain. No one would care. Only he and Purity were at risk.

"I have been out of the country. I didn't realize you two had married." He was making normal, polite conversation, hoping Purity would understand he was trying to smooth over the situation.

However, with the pair's interested expressions, particularly the cunning set to Emilia's mouth, Matthew could think of only one way to make this any better.

"Have you and Lady Varley met my fiancée?" He was careful not to give Purity's name, just in case they were unaware of it. If so, then escaping unscathed was still a possibility.

To her credit, Purity didn't gasp or gainsay him, and he fervently hoped they could manage the calamity.

"Your fiancée ?" Emilia asked, sounding incredulous. "Lady Purity Diamond has captured a thundering buck of the first head. Can it be true?"

Dammit all! Lady Varley knew who Purity was. Worse than that, she was annoyed. Matthew could tell by her tone. Her pride was pricked that he hadn't offered his hand in marriage after they'd danced the blanket hornpipe over the space of a fortnight.

Taking a breath, he turned and reached for Purity's hand, drawing her forward as the clouds finally opened and the showers began. She kept her glance averted from all three of them.

"How could I not ask Lady Purity to be my wife? I might have once been a buck of the first head, as you say, but she is clearly a diamond of the first water."

Matthew felt her cringe under his touch, but he continued, "The lady has well and truly tamed me. If our display of genuine affection bothered you, you must excuse us. In any case, I must get my lady out of the rain."

With that, he pushed between the two gawkers, bringing Purity with him.

"Let's get you back to your family."

She nodded. He had a feeling she was in shock. Matthew had been caught in flagrante delicto before, but never with anyone who wasn't prepared for such a fate, certainly not with anyone he cared about, and never with a virginal earl's daughter.

At the copse of trees, they came across another couple, their bodies turned away, the man shielding his lover against the tree to keep her dry and unidentified.

Instead of titillating, Matthew found it sordid for the first time and wondered why they didn't all go get rooms at an inn. Himself included! He should be shot for what had occurred. And with the memories of other times on the grounds of other estates, doing far more lascivious things for a lark to satisfy a salacious whim, the shame and regret rose to mock him.

He glanced at Purity to determine if she'd seen the couple, but her head remained down, gazing at nothing but the grass ahead of her. She seemed smaller and shrunken as if she might vanish entirely into her misery. Her distraught manner sliced at his heart.

Faced with the trembling woman beside him, he decided to swear off gardens altogether.