Chapter Two

L ord Varley, also a Cambridge man, had shouldered him so hard while walking past, Matthew had almost been dinged to the floor. They'd never been true friends, having been at different colleges, but mild acquaintances. He knew the viscount had been close to marriage a couple years ago. Alas, Varley had been given the mitten by an angry fiancée who'd caught him tipping the velvet with another woman in a closet. Since said closet had been under the stairs of the fiancée's parents' home during a dinner party, the denouncement and penalty had been swift and final.

In any case, it was nothing to do with Matthew. Thus, he was surprised by the brusque way the man knocked into him and continued walking.

"Here now!" he exclaimed.

Varley slowed his walk slightly, gave Matthew his profile, and lifted a hand before continuing into the next room.

Not exactly an apology, but it would have to do. He'd never had any trouble with the viscount, and Boodle's was not the place to fight, even if he had been provoked.

"Blasted royster," he muttered and departed into the dark night and thick, sooty air of London.

At the Fenwicks' bi-annual dinner party for eligible unmarried persons, Matthew struck it lucky. In truth, luck had nothing to do with it.

Not happenstance, but snooping and questioning brought him to the same townhouse and the same drawing room as Lady Purity. He'd made it a point to ask about the Diamonds at Boodle's. And while her father, the earl, was not a member, men knew of him and his fine family of four daughters and a son.

When he learned Lady Purity's parents and even her father's parents were long-time friends of Matthew's neighbors, the elderly Lord and Lady Fenwick, he decided it was practically fate they be together. Consequently, when the Fenwicks held their twice-yearly dinner for single members of the ton , Matthew was confident she would be there. Naturally, he had secured his own invitation.

Who more eligible than him? Matthew asked his reflection as he passed the mirror in the Fenwicks' front hall. He could make fun of himself. Most would say, despite the man in the looking glass having a strong chin, straight teeth, and rather thick hair, that he was not the best match for any young lady since he was a bit of a scapegrace.

But he had a good income from his barony. Combine it with an appearance that was more than satisfactory to most females, and the baser parts of his nature were often overlooked.

Before him, standing in a small circle with other ladies and a few gentlemen, was Lady Purity, as expected. Her dark hair was threaded with pale-pink pearls to match her pink satin dress. And the sight of her, so petite and perfect, made his pulse quicken.

Tonight, he hoped to get her alone again, in the library or an empty bedroom, or even in the small back garden of the Fenwicks' Belgrave Square home.

Since the lady had been breaking all rules of good sense and decorum by being alone in Lansdowne's drawing room, despite Quinn's warning of her as a primster, Matthew assumed she was the adventurous sort, up for a lark. She hadn't fainted or had a fit when he'd kissed her. Rather, she'd handled herself as if she had some experience in such matters.

All in all, she seemed a likely target for a companionable wife. Hopefully untested in bed, yet passionate and ready to learn. And if he discovered she had wit and humor, then she would rise even further in his estimation. First thing was an introduction.

"There you are, Foxford," greeted Lord Fenwick, who never seemed to age but stayed eternally white-haired and sparkly eyed, like his wife who stood beside him.

Matthew had known them for his entire adulthood due to their house being on the same square as his own. Upon moving out of his family's home in Edinburgh, he had been beyond eager to return to London and was fortunate to have purchased a place in this plum neighborhood south of Hyde Park.

"Good evening, Fenwick," Matthew said before taking Lady Fenwick's offered hand. "Why haven't you run away with me yet, my lady?"

It was a game they had played from nearly the first time they'd been introduced, when her husband had cautioned Matthew against trying to steal the prettiest woman in the room.

"Are you still so devoted to this codger?" Matthew asked her.

"I am afraid I am," she replied. "Despite the fact that Fenwick and I were younger than you when we married, our love grows daily." She glanced at her husband, who returned her look with one of naked adoration.

Matthew swallowed away the lump in his throat. How inspiring!

"Coincidentally, on just such a subject," he ventured, "I am hoping you can assist me tonight. I am not here merely to look. I intend to take a wife this year. Will you introduce me to the single ladies you've gathered?"

Lady Fenwick smiled. "Gathered? You make it sound as though we collected them in a room like cheeses on a tray for you to sample."

Matthew laughed. "I don't know about sampling," he said wickedly, "but I would like to meet them, to learn their names and all that." He needed a proper introduction, not only to Lady Purity but also to the other polished, pretty females who were ready to marry.

"It may do you no good," Fenwick said. "You have been in the papers recently, more than once since you came back. Something about a lost earring turning up in your possession, and a husband finding you in his home when his wife was there alone."

Lady Fenwick gasped at the rudeness of making a guest feel uncomfortable, but her husband continued, undeterred.

"Or was it a lost wife in your possession?" He chuckled.

"Fenwick!" his wife admonished. "You know you cannot speak of such things, nor embarrass our guest. I do apologize, my lord." Then she narrowed her eyes. "But don't let any mischief, nor improprieties, happen at our home tonight. Everyone here is a friend or an offspring of a friend."

"Of course not, my lady," Matthew promised. He wasn't there to fence tongues with Lady Purity. But that was a lie! If the opportunity arose, that was precisely what he would do. But he didn't wish only to kiss her again. Getting her alone was something he thought important with each woman he wished to court. No one said anything interesting or intimate in public.

Then the introductions began. A pretty, fair-haired lady with a toothy smile reared back upon learning his name, practically disappearing behind a squelch-gutted female with lovely eyes but a dreadfully severe expression. Matthew removed them both instantly from his mental list of potential mates.

Also unsuitable was a brunette with a rail-thin figure. Something about her seemed sickly, as if a strong wind might take her away. He feared she wouldn't survive birthing an heir to his barony, never mind be strong enough to raise his existing daughter to maturity.

"I hope you find Lord and Lady Fenwick's dinner to your liking," he said after their introduction, thinking she ought to eat a double helping of everything.

Matthew didn't know if he was being overly fussy, but each lady he met seemed lacking compared to Lady Purity, to whom he was drawing closer.

At last, the Fenwicks brought him before her. She'd seen him coming. Of this, he was certain because her perfect smile had already faded. Regardless, she pretended not to know him.

"Lady Purity," Fenwick addressed her first. "This is Lord Foxford, known to me for many years."

She gave a shallow curtsy, not showing any sign they'd shared a passionate kiss, nor that she was shocked at learning his identity.

"Good evening, my lady," Matthew said, returning her curtsy with a slightly deeper bow.

Their host added, "She's on the marriage market now that her older sister has been recently snapped up."

Lady Purity winced and went from pale to puce.

"Fenwick!" his wife exclaimed.

"I hate to contradict our host," Lady Purity said, "but my sister has been married over a year, so not precisely recent . And I assure you, I am not on any market, marriage or otherwise."

"Just a figure of speech," Fenwick said, unbothered.

"It is my pleasure to meet you," Matthew said, hoping to allay any fears she might have that he would mention their first encounter. "What's more, Fenwick might as well be describing me, for I have of late put myself upon that very same market, looking for a wife."

Lady Purity's eyes grew wider.

"An unusual thing for a man to admit," Lady Fenwick pointed out.

"Indeed," Lady Purity agreed. "Why are you hoping to marry? I mean, at this time."

Why? Matthew considered her question. There was probably a correct answer that would win her over, but he didn't know it.

"I came home from the Continent after two years of traveling. My home is empty," he added, except for Diana, who filled it with her giggles, but he couldn't disclose that. Not yet.

"It lacks a woman's touch. I want a wife to fill it with warmth and her feminine quality. And naturally, I seek like-minded companionship, as I have witnessed with Lord and Lady Fenwick."

Instead of approval, Lady Purity's visage was downright dour.

"A woman isn't an object to be installed in your home to fill it with anything at all. It's not 1748, my lord! While I agree like-mindedness is essential, I also believe a joining of the hearts is crucial. Lord and Lady Fenwick have that beyond measure."

Before Matthew could respond, she made reference to his reputation, albeit in a less direct manner than Fenwick had.

"A man ought to be ready to devote himself entirely to his wife, forsaking all other females entirely. One cannot help wondering if you are prepared to do so. If a man is merely looking for companionship, that can be easily obtained from one's friends, one's horse, or even a well-mannered dog. Although, perhaps you would prefer a kitten, my lord."

Matthew couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. He was entirely charmed.

"You are correct on all counts. We are past the time of arranged marriages, that is, unless one is of royal blood. And it is not as if I wish to snap up the first female I come across out of a sense of desperation. A wife is a special case, and I intend to find precisely the correct one for me. If I must get a kitten in the meantime for companionship, then I shall. It will make the wait for a wife that much more bearable."

Her lips flattened in disapproval, and he wanted to laugh. He fully intended to give up mistresses and whores when he pledged his troth. After all, his young Diana was already the result of carelessness, and he'd seen the cost to the innocent.

"Wine?" Lady Fenwick offered, astutely reading the tension between two of her guests.

Soon, they were all drinking burgundy. A pallor of relaxation coated the room and its occupants, except Lady Purity, whose gaze followed him everywhere. He would give a gold sovereign to know her thoughts. He would give far more than that to be alone with her again.

Purity would give up a week's allowance for the evening to end early. Instead, it grew worse when her dining companion turned out to be Lord Foxford. He looked so smug; she guessed he'd orchestrated the seating arrangement himself.

Why? She could only imagine it was to torment her because she'd let him kiss her.

Now that she knew his name, his behavior at Lansdowne House became understandable. He was a rake by all accounts. She'd seen his name in the papers linked with a married lady here or a widowed lady there. Indeed, he'd been busy for someone recently back on British soil.

His loose, irresponsible character vexed her the way a wealthy nip-cheese vexed a beggar.

Yet she'd not only been kissed by the Fox, she'd enjoyed it!

Now she had to sit through at least ten courses and two hours of discourse while around her were other single gentlemen with whom she was certain she had more in common.

"Did the lady-friend you intended to meet enjoy the painting?" she asked, thinking she would toss in something outrageous enough he might simply stop speaking to her completely.

It didn't work. "I hardly know," he said. "Come to think of it, I don't believe she had any actual appreciation for art."

He let that hang between them. Naturally, Purity imagined he had spent time kissing the prostitute and perhaps doing something wicked against the wall he had mentioned.

On the other hand, he must have paid the woman and was at least contributing to the economy of London.

She took a large swallow of wine and fought not to cough. When she turned to look at him again, his gaze went directly to her watering eyes.

"Your eyes are glistening like sapphires. They are the most beautiful blue I have ever seen."

He managed to make over-the-top flattery sound entirely sincere, which baffled her because she was not one to approve of fawning. Regardless, there could be only one response since she had been raised correctly.

"Thank you, my lord."

Through the delicate soup course and the turbot with lobster and Dutch sauces, followed by oyster and marrow patés with soft bread, she said very little, except to tell him not to use his knife to cut the bread.

"Always break it by hand," she advised, before allowing him to carry the conversation unless he asked her a direct question. Then she replied succinctly while asking him nothing in return, a grievous fault in a dining partner.

However, despite being brought up to make an enjoyable dining companion, Purity would not deign to show any interest in him, not even to ask him if he was enjoying the weather. The newspapers and her own experience had determined he would not make anyone a good husband unless he found a woman willing to put up with his famously scandalous behavior. Thus, she hoped her purposeful slight demonstrated her disapproval.

Still, as the meal wore on, she had the notion he was interested in her for that very position of wife. Why else would he declare any such thing directly to her and in front of the Fenwicks?

Needing to make it crystal clear she would never wish to be his baroness, no matter his compliments or his kissing ability, she intended to remain as cool as possible. Yet throughout the dinner, he never let the conversation lapse into an awkward silence. He regaled her with stories of his time abroad, making sure to ask if or where she had traveled. He asked about her siblings. He even asked if she would take more wine with him when her glass was empty. He did it all with perfect manners, and thus, it was hard to find fault.

Until he did two things so egregious, she could almost believe he did them on purpose to rile her. Over the dessert course of cream-topped sponge cake, meringues a la crème, and thick brandy custard with a sugar glaze, which as it was her favorite she was struggling to eat slowly, he shifted his fork to his right hand.

She nearly tsk-tsked to watch him holding it like a shovel. Couldn't he see he was the only one handling his utensil in such a barbaric fashion?

Purity was about to save him ridicule by instructing him when he leaned close — too close! — causing her to crane her head and look up at him.

Immediately, he smiled. "I was going to tell you something interesting, but now all I can say is you do look like a kitten after all."

Heat crept into her cheeks. She could smell his complex fragrance, reminding her as it had all through dinner, of their kiss. But she was no sweet little animal. Therefore, she was stunned when he raised his napkin and wiped the end of her nose.

Gasping could be heard from all the ladies and some of the gentlemen who witnessed it.

Purity felt her mouth drop open and had to snap it closed. He had caused her c omplete and utter mortification!