Chapter Fifteen

W hen barely sunrise, Purity climbed out of bed feeling raw, having scarcely slept through the longest night of her life. Her stomach grumbled since no supper tray had arrived the night before, probably because she hadn't responded to the timid knocking of the kitchen maid.

Unable to bring herself to drink the stale, stone-cold tea, Purity dressed hurriedly and carried the tray down with her all the way to the kitchen in the cellar.

"I'm sorry I wasted the tea," she told their staff upon entering.

Both their cook and their kitchen maid wore the same expressions of surprise and then worry.

"I know I am up dreadfully early, but if you could make me a pot of chocolate and a slice of toast, I'll wait in the breakfast room."

The two women glanced at one another, and Purity knew they thought her off her rocker for not simply tugging on the bell-pull upstairs. After all, she understood how routine and schedule made the house run like a top. She was throwing off both.

A few minutes later, in the intimate green-and-cream-colored salon where they always took their breakfast, she drank the soothing chocolate and felt better. Cook had made her a stack of toasted bread slathered with butter and provided raspberry jam, too.

After being much fortified, she made an attempt to read the prior afternoon's papers, yet when her father appeared an hour later, he caught her dozing on the only small divan in the room.

Ruminating upon what they must discuss, Purity wished she could disappear like the slices of toast.

He leaned over and kissed her forehead before tugging the bell-pull.

"Are you the only one who receives special early service, or do you think Cook will give me breakfast, too?"

Purity couldn't speak.

"Your mother seems to believe you had an unpleasant incident during the picnic. Do you want to tell me about it? Is there someone I need to shoot?" he added.

That made her smile slightly as he took a seat. And then it came tumbling out of her. Not all of it, of course, but enough so her father understood she had been caught alone with Foxford and was now presumed engaged.

"Hm," Lord Diamond said. "A sticky predicament, indeed. One thing seems heartening. Foxford immediately spoke up for you."

"Yes, Father."

"However, if you don't like the fellow, then that doesn't make a bit of difference. If you are absolutely against becoming Lady Foxford, then we shall sort this out in some other manner. I know you were helping him as a lark at the outset, but perhaps you have grown a sincere attachment. If not, then you shouldn't have to be tied to the man for the rest of your life."

Purity knew her father to be the best, kindest man in the world. Therefore, she decided to tell him the truth.

"I do have feelings for him as you guessed before. But I am unsure as to his in return. Even less sure about his character."

"It is unlikely he can ever find anyone of your quality, dear daughter. He probably counts himself lucky the two of you were caught in the same snare."

Purity hadn't thought of that. It seemed there were many lovely ladies in London. He might fancy any or all of them.

"I hope he comes to speak with me today," the earl continued. "If he doesn't, then I will call him out as a blackguard. If he does come, then I will take his measure. If he seems the least bit slippery, I will forbid the marriage."

That would not help her reputation, but she couldn't bring herself to mention such to her father. Her mortification would be too great.

They stopped talking about the prior evening while he read the paper, and she remained with her eyes closed nearby, feeling comforted by his strong presence. When her mother entered not long after, they went over the whole thing again.

"All my fault," Lady Diamond said. "I let the wolf into the sheep's fold, as it were."

"I am hardly a sheep," Purity defended herself. "It wasn't as if Foxford tried to get me into a risky situation. We were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

On the other hand, he had steered her away from the rest of the guests even before Lord Quinn and Miss Moffett caught up to them.

"I suppose if he wishes to marry you, then I can forgive his trespasses," her mother said.

While both her parents were eating, Purity realized she was waiting on tenterhooks. If Foxford didn't show up at the earliest polite minute, then—

Through the open salon door, they heard the noise of their butler admitting a visitor. And a male one, by the timbre of his voice.

Purity sat up straighter, her mother glanced at her with an air of speculation, and her father rose from his chair.

"You ladies wait here," he ordered. "I will deal with Foxford, one way or the other."

Lord Diamond was no longer merely her father. The way he strode out of the room, he was every inch the head of the household.

Her mother sighed. "I love that man."

Her father and Foxford must have gone to the earl's study, for Purity heard their feet upon the stairs. For the next five minutes, she was on pins and needles. Her breathing was irregular, her heart was racing, and she felt all over cold.

"Stop twisting that napkin," her mother said. "I would suggest a walk outside, but I assume you want to be here when the men finish talking."

"I do. Besides, what if Bri or Ray come in for breakfast and I am not present?"

"What of it?" Lady Diamond asked. "I doubt Lord Foxford will mistake one of them for you."

Her mother had a peculiar wit at times, but she was correct. Purity could go wherever she pleased in the house. And at that moment, the music room called to her.

"I'll go play the piano. That will help calm me."

She wandered down the hall to the salon and seated herself at the instrument of torture, as she used to think of it until she became proficient. Now, she cherished her elegant grand pianoforte with its mahogany case and was happy her mother hadn't let her quit. More than once, Purity had found an hour at the piano soothed her.

Thus, after lifting the fallboard to reveal the decorative gold leaf inlay and the words "John Broadwood and Sons," also in gold, she let herself get lost in a piece she used for practice, Bach's "The Well-Tempered Clavier." In the past, she'd let it challenge her for hours, taking her through twenty-four pairs of preludes and fugues. Certainly, Foxford would complete his meeting with her father long before that.

This wasn't Matthew's first encounter with Lord Diamond. And while the previous ones had gone well, considering he'd compromised one of the man's daughters less than twenty-four hours earlier, the outcome of this meeting was dodgy at best.

After scanning the morning newspapers and being both surprised and immensely relieved not to find any mention of himself or Purity, he had headed directly to Piccadilly.

On the doorstep, after presenting his card and asking to see his lordship, Matthew was unsure of his reception with no idea whether Purity's father knew anything of the ill-advised incident by the statue.

If the Earl Diamond brought it up, then Matthew would apologize and confess how the fault was entirely his. He would explain how overwhelmed he'd been with the depth of his feelings for Purity. Accordingly, he had embraced her before declaring his resolve to marry her. A mere error of order, not of intention.

On the other hand, if the earl said nothing, then Matthew would simply ask for her hand as if this was planned. He was probably no more nervous than any other man asking permission to wed, except most other men didn't have the burden of an inglorious reputation hanging like the sword of Damocles, ready to destroy his happiness.

Sure enough, when Lord Diamond appeared in the front hall, he told rather than invited Matthew to follow him to his study. It was as impressive as an earl's study should be and clearly not a place merely to drink good brandy. Books, papers, and ledgers were strewn across a massive desk behind which Lord Diamond took a seat before gesturing for Matthew to sit across from him.

Then Purity's father looked him squarely in the eyes to take his measure. After a long moment, he nodded.

"I hope ninety percent of what I have heard or read is either false or blatant exaggeration," Lord Diamond began. "I experienced a little of such infamy myself," he added.

Matthew relaxed a moment. Here was a man who understood how difficult it was to be titled and wealthy and not be the object of everyone's scrutiny.

"As for the other ten percent, however, I would advise you to rein in your questionable tendencies and cease them immediately."

With that statement, he fixed Matthew with a blue-eyed stare that looked so much like Purity's, it was uncanny. Moreover, the earl sounded like his daughter, who was forever urging Matthew to change his rakish ways.

How could he convince the man he had already done so, particularly in light of why he was there?

"I would like to marry your daughter, my lord, and I assure you I will not dishonor her in any way for as long as I live."

Lord Diamond raised a dark eyebrow. "You may live a long time," he pointed out. "That's many years of being faithful. I believe there is only one way to ensure such fidelity, and that's with a loyal, loving heart. If your heart is not engaged, then neither shall you be, not to my daughter."

Matthew caught his breath. He hadn't expected to go to Piccadilly and have the depths of his emotions plumbed or dissected. He nodded but remained silent, not wishing to speak with the earl about his devotion instead of with Purity.

The Earl Diamond leaned forward. "Despite whatever occurred yesterday, and I don't wish to know as you two are adults, I don't want my daughter to become your wife unless I am assured of her future happiness, in so far as I can be."

Again, Matthew nodded.

"Are you fully prepared to be her husband?" Lord Diamond asked. "Elsewise, I suggest you walk out my door and never lay eyes upon her again."

Matthew flinched. The despair engendered by the earl's ultimatum was instant and overwhelming, like having his head plunged under water and held there. At school, it had happened once, and he had never forgotten the dread.

Until that moment, he had not truly examined his own feelings beyond knowing he admired Purity, thought her the most desirable woman he'd ever met, and believed they could be happy together.

Imagining such a finality of never being in her company again, the same helpless dread washed over him. His heart ached dully, the very heart of which her father had spoken, and which Matthew knew Purity had long-since claimed.

He could only describe it to himself as her having taken up all the space in that famed and mythical seat of the emotions. The realization rattled him as much as the newfound knowledge that his affections were truly and irrevocably engaged.

He was pleased and yet the smallest whit frightened, too.

"Your face is an expressive one," her father said into the prolonged silence.

Matthew had practically forgotten the man was there. Still, he wasn't going to mention love to anyone apart from Purity.

"I am prepared to marry your daughter," he said carefully, trying not to trip over his tongue, "by caring for her in all the ways in which you would deem necessary for her happiness, now and in the future."

The earl gave him another long look, pondering the words. Finally, he nodded. Then he made a face of exasperation.

"You know her mother and I eloped, and I don't regret it for an instant."

While Matthew's mouth was open, stunned by the notion of a carefree, outrageous Lord and Lady Diamond, the earl asked him briefly about his financial well-being, which was healthy indeed. And then a dowry was proposed, to which Matthew agreed immediately.

Satisfied, Lord Diamond rose to his feet and even put out his hand.

"I like this custom of shaking upon an agreement," he said. "Touching the flesh that I will rip limb from limb if you hurt my daughter makes it more tangible and permanent, don't you think?"

Matthew hesitated, again taken off guard by the earl, but he shook his hand with vigor.

"Yes, my lord," he said. "And I shall never give you cause for regret, nor for ripping my limbs."

He hadn't exactly been hat-in-hand, but Matthew had certainly been doubtful of his reception. Moreover, he'd been thoroughly put in his place and told where he had better stand by the formidable Lord Diamond. He could do nothing but admire his future father-in-law, wondering momentarily what his own father would have said in the same circumstances.

Dismissed, Matthew wandered along the hallway and down the stairs where luckily, he encountered Lady Diamond in the drawing room.

After a brief but polite conversation in which he informed the countess that his suit had been accepted, he followed her suggestion to seek out the source of the music.

Recognizing Purity's adept talent, he went directly to the salon. For a full minute, Matthew stood in the doorway and listened, watching the quick sure movements of her hands and enjoying the graceful bend to her neck where soft, dark spirals lay.

He wanted to drop kisses along that slender column, wrap his hands around her from behind, and grab hold of her luscious curves.

Now they were officially engaged, that dream was closer to reality. He hoped she wasn't as distraught as she'd seemed the afternoon before. Probably the shock had worn off. And since he'd followed through with asking her father for her hand, her mind should be at ease as soon as he told her the marriage had been arranged.

Not wishing to startle her, he gave a small cough. She straightened and lifted her fingers from the keys as he approached.

Uninvited, he sat beside her on the hard bench.

"Good day, Lord Foxford," she said.

Her greeting — classic, formal, and proper — made him smile.

"Good day, Lady Purity. My given name, by the way, is Matthew, and I invite you to use it whenever you wish."

She nodded somberly, and he wished she looked happier. There must be worse men she could marry. He noted she hadn't given him permission to call her anything. Therefore, he would continue with the name that suited her best.

"I am no music expert, kitten, but you play well in my estimation."

"Thank you. I have practiced for many hours. It's a good thing, too, for I have no voice for singing unlike my younger sisters."

Clearly, she was stalling from discussing anything important, either still embarrassed or perhaps worried for what came next.

"You are as good as any player in a—" he stopped himself. He nearly mentioned the only place he had heard a piano for the past few years, a bordello, both in London and in Paris.

"In an orchestra," he finished.

She frowned. "Highly unlikely. Remember we talked about flattery before."

"Of course." He ran a hand through his hair. "We ought to discuss our future."

Surprisingly, she gave a single harsh laugh.

"Is something funny?"

"Don't you think so?" she asked. "Maybe ironic is a better term. I always intended to marry a devoted, loyal gentleman, someone like my father."

"I see." He was about to be insulted.

"I never truly saw you as a potential suitor. I believe I told you that from the beginning. You and your ilk—"

"My ilk?" he repeated.

"There you go, interrupting again like you did before I started trying to civilize you. I guess I failed dreadfully." She shook her head. "Your ilk — the rakish swells of London's noblemen. You are the opposite to anyone who would attract me."

"I think you're lying," he said, feeling defensive. "You and I have an attraction as powerful as any I've ever felt."

She waved it away with a gesture of her hand.

"I wanted a husband such as my sister married. Staid, mannered, calm. A rum duke of a man in manner as well as in appearances."

"And I am none of those things?" He couldn't deny he was hurt by her low opinion. But he waited for her answer.