Chapter Twenty-One

P urity was surprised to learn Lord Varley was in his carriage outside her family's home, having sent his footman to the door with a calling card. She couldn't help the tremor of trepidation upon telling their butler to grant him entrance to the drawing room. After all, the last time she'd seen his lordship, he seemed to be relishing her disgrace.

With Alice hurriedly installed at one end of the room, Purity greeted Lord Varley. It was evident instantly that he had been in an altercation, yet unforgivably rude for her to make mention of his appearance.

"Good day, my lord. Are you well?"

"Good day, Lady Purity. I come to offer my apologies for what has happened."

He could only mean one thing. She decided to be frank.

"Why would you be apologizing unless it was you who had a discussion with the editor of The Times ?"

"Perish the thought," he said. "I assure you I will never tell anyone what I saw. You have my word as a gentleman." He went so far as to pat the area over his heart with his palm. "However, my wife can be flighty, and I cannot vouch for what she has done or might do."

"Are you saying it was Lady Varley who tattled?"

"Only that it is possible."

"And you came to apologize on her behalf?" she repeated. "Forgive me if I think a note would have sufficed."

"I wanted to warn you in the most stringent fashion so you would take me seriously. Do you see my face?"

She nodded.

"Your so-called fiancé did this to me."

Purity was unable to stifle a gasp.

"In public, at our club," Lord Varley added with obvious distaste. "Brawling like a common ruffian."

Ready to ask what was the provocation, she decided it had to be over the dastardly Times column. Thus, while she didn't condone fighting outside of a sporting club, she could hardly find fault with Foxford for protecting her honor.

"I cannot imagine why you thought it necessary to show me the results," she said stiffly.

"Has Foxford been here yet?" he asked.

She put a hand to her chest. Their conversation had gotten out of hand. He had no right to ask any such thing.

"State your business, please," Purity said firmly.

"As I said, I want you to heed my warning. A nice young lady such as yourself ought not to be anywhere near that rake." His voice caught on the last word, and she realized he was distraught.

"My lord?"

"Foxford ruined my first engagement, snatching away my happiness due to his own careless philandering. And my wife has been harmed by his insatiable hunger, too. He's a menace. After nearly destroying her with unfulfilled promises, he fled to the Continent. Now that he's back, I believe he is trying to renew their acquaintance."

He had started pacing but stopped abruptly as if realizing he was in someone else's home.

"If my wife spoke to the papers, and I'm not saying she did, mind you, it was only to shed light on the doings of London's infamous Bachelor Baron. True, she bears a grudge against Foxford as do half the ladies in Mayfair, I expect, and Paris, too, if he continued his outlandish indiscretions while away."

Purity wished her unwelcome visitor wasn't giving voice to all her worst fears about what an ardent seducer Foxford was. Finally, he took a deep breath.

"Perhaps with The Times story, my wife hoped your parents would sensibly put a stop to any association between you and that hell-born satyr."

"I see." Purity could think of nothing more to add. She'd never had such a bold, disturbing conversation with a stranger before.

"I once more find myself apologizing, this time for distressing you. I know at Syon House, Lady Varley and I should have turned immediately away upon discovering you."

Purity winced, wishing the maid wasn't seated where she could see and hear everything, but that was the point of a chaperone.

"However, I have come across him before in a similar situation."

"I do not understand," she said. Although she feared she did. While she hoped Lord Varley had the sense and manners not to mention Foxford with another woman, she suddenly had a notion why the man hated her fiancé so much.

"Are you referring to your former fiancée?" she asked, her voice soft due to the delicate subject. She knew only that the eldest daughter of an extraordinarily wealthy family, even by the ton 's standards, had given him the mitten.

Lord Varley responded with a sigh, leaving her none the wiser. But she assumed Foxford had enjoyed a tryst with the bride, causing her to break it off.

" And with your current wife," Purity said, this time without question. Foxford had already admitted such.

Lord Varley pressed his lips together, saying nothing. He rose higher in her esteem for not speaking of anything sordid. The poor man!

Was it possible Foxford had made a paramour of two of this man's lady loves?

"I shall take my leave. But heed me, Lady Purity. The Fox is no gentleman, nor can I imagine him making an honest husband of himself. While I confess I threw the first punch, it was only after Foxford taunted me that he'd been intimate with my wife. You may ask him whether I lie."

He bowed. Wordlessly, she gave a shallow curtsy, and he left.

Well, hell's bells! She certainly hadn't expected that.

Purity had agreed to dance twice with Foxford at the next ball, which was the following evening at the Lowther Rooms on King William Street. She intended to hold her head high and let the rumors of her ruin swirl around her without effect, like water off a duck's back.

Lord Varley's visit had shaken her, and she'd considered writing to Foxford to tell him she would not attend. However, after reflection, the disclosure that her fiancé had tormented the other man, not once but twice, with acts of selfish passion didn't really change anything.

It was all in the past, she kept reminding herself. Foxford vowed he had been with no one else since meeting her, and after their discussion on the bridge, she had no reason to doubt him. He could have walked away if he had wanted to continue a life of debauchery.

On the other hand, she could and did blame him fully for the slander in The Times . If he hadn't angered Lord and Lady Varley, apparently each of them separately, then Purity wouldn't have ended up "getting her lips polished," as the paper had described it.

With a sigh, she descended from her father's coach. She had always known no good would come from a lifetime of such immoral behavior, and dreadful consequences could occur. But it was beyond aggravating to have been caught up in someone else's consequences.

With both her parents attending the ball, she was bolstered by the combined strength of the earl and countess. Moreover, Purity recalled Foxford's words about making everyone jealous with their happy engagement and entered the building with a stiff smile.

Strange advice, for she wouldn't envy anyone in her position, not for a moment.

Even stranger, upon seeing him waiting at the foot of the stairs, dressed impeccably in dark blue tails with a bright white shirt and gray waistcoat, the familiar sizzling heat winged through her.

How could she still want Foxford so much when he had hurt people by his careless assignations? If she allowed herself to think he might hurt her, then she would not be able to go through with it. And that would be an even bigger debacle since her father had already placed an announcement in the papers, leaving out The Times , as the earl now considered those publishers an enemy of his family.

As Foxford came closer, she saw the damage. Lord Varley had given as good as he got, it seemed.

The baron greeted her parents, not calling attention to the bruises on his cheek and around his eye, nor did they. Purity knew she was supposed to ignore the fact that her fiancé had been brawling.

When he offered his arm to her, she laid her hand atop it, letting him guide her into the ballroom, with Lord and Lady Diamond following.

"No flummery at all, kitten. You are without a doubt the most beautiful woman here."

Purity thought she must be wavering in her strict standards. Even though she could not believe his words to be true — after all, her lovely mother stood close by — still, she not only allowed him the flattery, she enjoyed it.

"Thank you. And you are looking very fine tonight, my lord, at least in your dress if not your face."

He grinned, and the butterflies took off in her stomach.

"Varley and I disagreed on a few things, like whether he ought to be allowed to sit smugly eating roast beef when he is a horse's arse."

"Foxford!" Purity exclaimed. "While I appreciate your defending me, as I believe you were doing, I cannot condone such actions. You were both injured."

He faltered in his steps and came to a stop where there was room for all of them by large, curtained windows.

"How do you know he was injured?" His manner was no longer congenial.

"Lord Varley paid me a visit." There was no reason to hide the fact.

"Why? What was his purpose?" Foxford's tone was clipped.

"He said he came to warn me away from you."

"That pompous toad!" he said loudly enough that her parents' conversation halted momentarily behind them before resuming.

"Calm yourself, my lord. Tonight, we are supposed to be happily enjoying our engagement, remember?"

He hesitated and then took a deep breath.

"I saw the announcement," he said, sounding more like himself. "We are now official."

"Indeed, we are." Glancing around, Purity saw plain evidence of interest.

Guests were staring, mouths were moving, and expressions held varying degrees of pity, amusement, or disdain. It didn't help that he was yelling about pompous toads .

She looked at her parents. They were already chatting with their long-time friends, Lord and Lady Trent. In the next moment, Lord and Lady Fenwick approached. It was wonderful to see the elderly couple attending a ball with no duty other than to dance and have fun.

"Good evening, my lord, my lady," Purity said, curtsying to both at once.

"I thought these two would make a match," Lord Fenwick said. "Didn't I say that, wife? Directly after our party for the young people?"

"Yes, Fenwick dear, you did." His wife nodded to them. "He did, you know."

"I shall always be grateful for your part in introducing me to my fiancée," Foxford said smoothly. "Your wedding invitation is being printed as we speak."

"Such a good man," Lady Fenwick said.

Purity watched Foxford's cheeks darken slightly. He was probably unused to anyone saying that in public or in private, for that matter.

"You had your chance while I was single, my lady," he quipped. "I promised to steal you away on more than one occasion, but now I have vowed my loyalty and fidelity to Lady Purity."

Lady Fenwick beamed at them while Lord Fenwick chuckled.

"Looks as though you had to fight for her. Good show, Foxford. You must have won since she's with you." He nodded to his wife. "I knew they would make a match, didn't I?" he repeated before they took a few steps toward her parents and joined that illustrious circle.

To her amazement, more established couples of rank and good standing came over to congratulate them before going to speak with her parents. It dawned on her they were offering public support to counteract the dreadful gossip column.

"You were correct," she told Foxford during their first dance, relaxing into the familiar movements of a quadrille. "Coming out into society was the best decision and will go a long way to putting the unpleasantness behind us."

"Unpleasantness," he murmured. "A good word for it. But then I imagine you could make the worst disaster sound like nothing more than spilled tea. Rather a useful skill, especially in a crisis."

She smiled at him. Now that the dancing had started, giving guests something to do besides whisper about her and the Fox, she was enjoying herself.

"Let us hope we don't have to test my skill tonight, my lord. I, for one, do not wish for any further crisis."

"Agreed."

When Lord and Lady Varley appeared by the third dance, Purity hoped her skills of smoothing things over were not about to become necessary. Lord Varley still sported a mark on his face and managed to glare menacingly at Foxford, who naturally returned the look and followed the man's movements across the room with a sharp gaze.

Lady Varley, on the other hand, seemed entirely oblivious to any underpinnings of discontent and took to the dance floor with another gentleman.

Since Purity could not remain by Foxford's side all night, nor promise him every dance, she felt a knot of concern tie itself tightly inside. When called away to dance, she fixed him with a hard stare.

"Please, my lord, do not do anything."

"I have no idea what you mean. If I find a willing lass, I shall dance. Otherwise, I will await your return here."

"Very well."

The next hour crept by in the same way. She danced again with Foxford and with a few other gentlemen, but the entire time, she was on tenterhooks.

Finally, they were called in for a buffet supper, which was adequate to stop any pangs of hunger or thirst, and then the rest of the night was before them.

Purity, along with her mother, excused themselves to the retiring room set aside for the ladies. Spacious, well lit, they could attend to their needs, fix their hair, address any stray threads, tears, or pulled hems that trailed with a danger of tripping them.

Purity's was the latter issue from one of her dance partners standing upon her hem before supper.

"Are you happy?" her mother asked, when they were seated on soft tufted stools before a mirror, blotting any shine off their faces with handkerchiefs from their reticules.

"I am," she said, staring back at Lady Diamond's reflection.

"You sound surprised, dear daughter."

Purity shrugged. "I suppose I am still getting used to the idea of being engaged. I must admit, once the dancing started and I realized I could dance for the fun of it, without having to consider each man as a potential husband, I saw the benefit to a fiancé."

Her mother smiled. "That is as good a reason as any. Do you wish to tell me about your intended's black-and-blue face?"

"Not really," Purity said.

The countess shook her head. "At least you didn't lie and try to tell me he's a clumsy walloping sort."

"Never, Mother. It's obvious he got into a brawl. It was over my honor and that awful Times column, so I cannot be too hard on him."

Just then, the bell sounded for the next dance. Her mother rose. "The Sauteuse is next. I must find your father. We never miss this dance. Will you be all right?"

"Yes, I'll be out in a minute. I'm going to put a few stitches in my hem, and I'll join you directly."

Her mother dashed off, called by fond memories of other balls when the same music spurred her and the earl's love. Or at least, that's what Purity imagined as she reached for the tray before her with all the accessories necessary to mend her dress. She could ask an attending maid, but it would be just as quick to do it herself.

From behind the partition, Lady Varley appeared, startling Purity.

"Greetings, Lady Purity."