Chapter Eighteen

T wo evenings later, Matthew assisted Purity and her mother into his carriage and climbed in behind them before his footman shut the door. He had insisted upon collecting them for a concert at the Hanover Square Rooms. Having the ladies come to his home and offer him a ride in the earl's conveyance would have been emasculating.

Besides, Matthew's brougham was plush and comfortable. As his baroness, Purity would soon be sharing it regularly. He wanted her to like everything about her new life.

Lady Diamond had agreed to play the chaperone. Although the three of them didn't address anything to do with the hurried engagement, the countess's presence helped to alleviate any lingering awkwardness.

"I have never heard of Monsieur Hector Berlioz," Lady Diamond admitted. "But I am grateful to have this opportunity to attend his concert with you."

Purity's mother was grace personified, making it seem as if he were doing her a great favor by bringing her when, in fact, she was being dragged along to offer the semblance of propriety. Matthew already knew Lord Diamond had been called out of town by his land manager. Elsewise, both parents would be watching his every move.

"I shall be pleased to have your knowledgeable presence, my lady, since I have not been a steady concertgoer in the past. However, while in Paris, I was introduced to Berlioz as both a composer and conductor. I thought his music to be sublime, and I hope you enjoy it."

Then he turned to Purity. "I will be most interested to know your opinion of the pianist."

Mother and daughter looked at one another. Then Purity said, "I am sure the concert pianist can play far better than I, my lord."

He shrugged. "I cannot imagine anyone playing better. I would like to give you a piano as my wedding gift, but I might need help in choosing a good instrument."

He was gratified by Lady Diamond's nod of approval.

"That is generous of you, my lord," Purity said. "However, I believe my parents will let me keep the piano I have since my father purchased it especially for me."

Two perfectly proper "my lords" in a row from his fiancée, as well as entirely neutral conversation, all the while with her gaze upon her gloved hands folded in her lap. If this were the young lady he'd first met, he would think her shy, demure, and boring.

Luckily, he knew she was none of those things. Purity was holding herself up to the highest standard of feminine decorous and modest behavior to counteract what had occurred before. And if she didn't stop by evening's end, Matthew would be forced to drag her behind the stage and kiss her soundly.

At the Hanover Square Rooms, also known as the Queen's Concert Rooms by those who liked to stay in that regal lady's good graces, Lady Diamond did two things — she started to introduce them to any friends or acquaintances they came across as an engaged couple, engendering many congratulations and well wishes.

Secondly, she gave them space to speak by themselves.

While the countess got into a deeper conversation about the merits of the mineral waters of Bath, where he understood she'd been raised, Matthew was able to take Purity's arm and stroll the lobby.

"Stop looking over your shoulder," he said. "Your mother is within shouting distance, other people are all around us, and I intend nothing untoward."

She nodded and stared at her slippered feet.

He wanted to shake her. "Honestly, kitten, I thought once we were engaged you would relax a little and let down your guard."

Purity visibly stiffened. "Relax?" she repeated. "Are you referring to my morals? I suppose you think I should hang all over you and rub your shoulder in public now that we are engaged."

Matthew couldn't help laughing. "I have never considered either of those things. Is that how you believe betrothed people behave?"

A couple stopped them and congratulated them upon their engagement. As soon as they'd moved on, she continued, "If you relaxed your morals any further, my lord, you would be a male light-skirt."

"A light-skirt," he said, ready to laugh again.

"A light-pants, then," she suggested, still looking far too solemn for the happy occasion of being out for the first time as a couple.

While he knew he'd been an out and outer for years, often enjoying himself too much, he was not a whore's bird. Plainly, Purity was still angry over the flirtatious females at Vauxhall. However, he no longer had any interest in women with their tendencies. He liked his kitten and her strait-laced manner, at least in public.

As long as she kept her fiery passion only for him, he would be satisfied.

"I promise I have no wish for you to behave any differently than the kind, genteel lady I have come to know."

"Well! I ... I ..." She closed her mouth and then sighed. "I cannot argue with you if you are going to be magnanimous."

"Why do you wish to argue with me?"

This time, her gaze rose to meet his and well-nigh knocked him back a step with the dazzling shimmering depths of her eyes.

"Because," she said softly, "I want — no, I need for us to keep our distance until the wedding. I nearly shamed my family, and whenever you are too close—"

Lady Diamond approached. "Everyone is going in."

Matthew escorted the ladies into the auditorium, decidedly frustrated at not hearing from Purity's own lips what she felt when he was close.

Purity knew she was being the worst primsy-pate ever. Yet she'd never experienced anything like the surges of longing that assaulted her with Foxford's presence. Not only did her stomach flutter unbearably when he was near, but parts of her throbbed and pulsed, yearning for his touch.

She'd lain awake reliving their kisses and imagining his hands upon her most private parts many nights. Thus, the concert was torture. Seated beside him, breathing his familiar citrus and woodsy scent, she recalled how his mouth felt upon hers and how his hands had kneaded her flesh and caressed her back and hips.

With their joining as man and wife being imminent, the physical act had become all she could think about.

At that moment, she was unable to concentrate on anything except the sizzling of her body that had her squirming in the velvet seat. Relieved when the last notes died out, she rose, only to hear, "Encore."

The cry for more was caught up and repeated throughout the audience, and she regained her seat.

Her mother was clapping joyfully on one side of her, while Foxford leaned close on the other.

"You seem ready to leave. Are you not enjoying the performance?"

"I am," she promised, unable to tell him the truth. Their heads were practically touching. If she moved an inch and turned her head, their lips would meet.

Quickly, she swiveled in the other direction.

"The musicians are very good, are they not?" her mother asked. "And Monsieur Berlioz is an excellent conductor, even for the pieces that he did not compose."

"Indeed." Then Purity fell silent until the extra movement finished, and once again the clapping began. Finally, they rose to their feet and started the ambling movement out to the lobby.

"The answer to your earlier question," Lady Diamond told Foxford, "is no. I don't believe my daughter could have played any better. It was stirring, was it not?"

"It was," he agreed.

Purity knew she'd felt stirred for the entire performance and would love at that moment to be alone with her fiancé. She ached to press herself against him, to mold her curves to his planes, to sink her fingers into his hair, and to kiss him soundly.

With tongues.

"Mm," she sighed, humming with desire as they shuffled up the aisle. It was like a madness. Did it ease off after one consummated? She only half hoped that was the case.

"I was taken by the—" Foxford began but trailed off as something or someone caught his eye.

Purity followed his gaze. Lady Varley! She was standing by herself, one hand on her hip staring directly at the two of them.

"By the timing," he concluded. "A conductor is like a puppeteer, able to command each musician to start and stop precisely upon a flick of his hand."

Purity heard her mother agree, yet she couldn't help returning the lady's frank regard. Lady Varley was an attractive woman, no doubt, but her expression, one of unadulterated dislike, spoiled her good looks.

Not to mention causing a shiver to snake down Purity's spine.

Having last seen Lady Varley at Syon Park, exclaiming over Foxford being a "thundering buck," it wasn't a far cry to imagine the lady was jealous. After all, Lord Varley had little reputation for anything except losing a fiancée once to another man.

"Before we leave," her mother said, "I must speak with Lady Frances. She's waving me down. I think she just heard about the engagement. I shall return anon."

Before her mother had gone a few yards, Lady Varley approached from the other direction.

"What do you want?" Foxford asked, surprising Purity by his impoliteness.

While she disliked the way Lord and Lady Varley had come upon them and made insinuations, there was no need to have an adversarial relationship after the damage had been done.

Purity took a step forward, practically blocking Foxford.

"Did you enjoy the concert, my lady?" she asked in order to bring them back into the realm of civility.

"I did," Lady Varley said, then she fell silent, taking Purity's measure. Like a rival!

"Surely, you are not alone," Purity continued when nothing more was said into the awkward pause.

"Varley is roundabout somewhere," she said, dismissing any concern with a shrug. "All the evening's chatter is of your engagement. You two make quite the pair."

Purity glanced back at Foxford, whose expression was unsmiling and unusually severe.

"Why, thank you," Purity said for both of them.

"Just as Foxford and I did at one time," Lady Varley continued. "I think he even brought me here once."

"Emilia," Foxford warned, his tone like a low growl.

Emilia! Purity was doubly shocked, both by Lady Varley's bold statement and by Foxford's unforgiveable use of the lady's given name. In public! And not even of his own family member!

Her next thought — that the two were well matched — flitted unbidden through her brain. But Lady Varley was in his past, and Purity was not so na?ve as to misunderstand the woman's motives. She still wanted Foxford! He had come back from the Continent, and Lady Varley was miffed she could no longer have an association with him now that she was married.

"I hope you don't make such statements in front of your husband," Purity chastised. "Unless you don't mind hurting the man to whom you owe your utmost loyalty."

Probably expecting more of a reaction, Lady Varley simply rolled her eyes, made a noise of disgust, and walked away.

"She is a bit of a nuisance, isn't she?" Purity remarked.

Foxford let out a bark of laughter. "Thank God, kitten. I thought you might take her seriously, which wouldn't do at all. She was trying to throw you decidedly off-kilter."

"She did not succeed. I feel sorry for her," she said.

"Feel sorry for whom?" her mother asked, returning in time to hear her last remark.

"No one important," Purity said, hoping that was the case.

"Not at all," Foxford agreed.