Chapter Twenty-Two

" I t is rude to eavesdrop," Purity told her, knowing this woman was no friend. More than that, Lady Varley had purposefully waited until Lady Diamond left.

Regardless, she felt perfectly able to stand up for herself and deflect whatever Lady Varley would say. Therefore, Purity added, "I bid you good evening all the same."

"I read of your engagement. Congratulations."

"Thank you, but unnecessary, since you were one of the first to learn of it," Purity said. "I believe you have offered your sincere felicitations already." Or utterly insincere, as the case might be.

"Indeed, I did, but your engagement didn't seem true until I saw it in print."

Purity didn't know what to say to that, so she threaded the needle and hoped the woman would go away. Instead, Lady Varley took the stool vacated by the countess.

"I must apologize for the fighting that occurred," she said, watching Purity's profile.

"Why would you need to do that?" Purity asked, hurrying with her stitching so she could escape.

"I understand from what was overheard at the gentlemen's club, they came to blows over me." She batted her eyes as if it were a badge of honor.

"You?" Purity exclaimed.

"Why, yes. I had a private encounter with Foxy recently. I believe your fiancé was boasting about it to get my husband's dander up. He succeeded."

Purity considered this information, wondering if it could be true, while keeping her gaze on the work at hand.

"If you don't believe me, you can ask either one of them. Varley threw the first punch on my behalf, dear soul, and then Foxy gave it back to him. While you're at it, ask him about his drawing-room sofa and whether it needed to be cleaned recently. I'm afraid we got quite heated upon it a few days ago." Lady Varley trailed off, waiting for some indication her attempt to send Purity into a great tweague had succeeded.

Purity said nothing, not even when she carelessly pricked her finger. After years of practice, she would not let this baggage dressed like a lady make her lose her civility or behave like a sorry scrub. She didn't even pull her hand out from under the fabric in order to suck the sore spot.

Lady Varley sighed. "I told Foxy you were too much of a bland morsel to give him a run. Why, you can't even scrounge up the spark to gainsay me. It would be pointless, anyway. I was stretched out on his cream-colored divan as surely as you and I are here now, and he ... well, never mind. If you aren't a complete simpleton, then you know what I'm saying. I imagine this won't be the last time a woman tells you she enjoyed herself tremendously with your fiancé, or in the future, with your husband."

Purity finished the last stitch, knotted the end of the thread, and snapped it off. Then she rose to her feet, refusing to give Lady Varley the satisfaction of seeing how her knees were trembling.

Smoothing her dress, she looked in the mirror, noticing how pale she'd grown and how bright her own eyes.

"There, that's better," she declared, lifting her chin.

Reaching for her gloves, Purity slowly, carefully donned each one before securing her reticule once more upon her wrist. Then she touched her hair, which was perfect. Finally, she turned.

Despite remaining composed, there must have been something in her countenance, for Lady Varley took a hurried step back.

Hardly knowing how she did it, Purity nodded to her as if they had just discussed the quality of the supper or the musicians.

"Good evening," Purity said politely, as that was how she had been raised.

Then she brushed past, leaving the woman to rot in her own base conduct of which Purity would never participate.

Something had happened . Matthew sensed it when Purity stiffened at his touch for their last dance of the evening.

"Is there anything wrong, kitten?" he asked.

Her blue eyes blazed at him, glittering with ... contempt? The answer was clearly yes . Something had in fact happened, beyond the fighting at his club, beyond her being compromised at Syon Park, beyond The Times slimy paragraph.

"Do not call me thusly," she hissed. "It is demeaning and dismissive."

Surprised by her vehemence, he shook his head. "It is meant to be endearing."

"How many women?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I beg your pardon." Matthew wondered if he ought to steer her off the dance floor. If she were going to question him on his number of sexual partners, he would need a glass of brandy, a pen, and a piece of paper.

"How many women have you called by the same nickname?"

He breathed a sigh of relief. Was that all that was bothering her?

"None. Only you."

She gave a quick roll of her eyes and glanced away.

"Truly." He spread his fingers upon her back, feeling the warmth of her body seeping through the thin rose silk of her gown.

"When you first looked up at me, I thought you were adorable but also sensual. What's more, you were somewhere you were not supposed to be and by yourself, so I assumed you were mischievous, too. The first word that popped into my head was kitten ."

He spun her around at the end of the dance floor and started up the other side.

"And I won't promise not to call you that," he added.

Her beautiful mouth turned down, looking displeased.

"I have never called anyone else by that name."

"What did you call them, then?" she asked flatly. "What about Lady Varley? Was it only Emilia you murmured to her when tupping her?"

Purity had shocked him down to his toes. What the hell?

He wanted the dance to end in order to speak without the infernal twirling and turning of their heads. However, when the music stopped, he wouldn't be able to speak privately with her, not at the ball. It wasn't as if they could find a secluded corner or stroll out into the garden.

Even if she was willing, it was the last thing they should risk before their marriage while trying to restore her reputation.

Helplessly, he looked down at her. "May I call upon you tomorrow?"

"No," she bit out.

"Purity," he said desperately.

"I have never given you permission," she pointed out, "to use my first name."

"I've had my tongue inside your mouth," he reminded her, making her eyes widen as she glanced around them. "I believe I may use your given name. Besides, if not kitten or Purity, what would you have your fiancé call you?"

"Perhaps I would rather you were not my fiancé at all."

And then Lady Purity did the unthinkable. She yanked her hand free from his grasp and walked away, blazing a path between the other dancing couples.

For a moment, Matthew stood motionless. When another pair of dancers nearly collided with him, however, he roused himself from his stupor and followed her. His delightful kitten had turned into a hell-cat, and he had no idea why.

Having directed his footman to the Diamonds' front door with his calling card, Matthew waited outside in his carriage, tapping his hand on his trouser leg. For two days, he had sent sweet notes and large bouquets of flowers, apologizing for he knew not what while asking Purity to give him a chance to explain, nonetheless.

After she'd abandoned him in the middle of a waltz, striding directly to her parents, the three Diamonds had left within minutes.

The earl had sent him a warning look, and Matthew kept his distance. But unlike Purity, he had stayed through the rest of the ball, explained his fiancée had a megrim, and continued to accept the bountiful congratulations.

His patience was now at an end. When his footman returned with a shake of his head, Matthew thought he might explode like gunpowder.

"I was told Lady Purity is not accepting visitors, my lord."

He was at the end of his rope. It was a long one, too. Some would say he'd had too long of a rope for too many years, swinging on it with wild abandon. But now, Purity had snipped it short.

Climbing down from his carriage, Matthew went to the door and rapped twice.

It swung open, and Mr. Dunley came into view.

"I am here to see my fiancée, Lady Purity."

The man opened his mouth, but Matthew spoke for him.

"I understand she is not seeing anyone. But I am not anyone . I am engaged to be her husband."

The butler did not wish to be in the middle of this lovers' spat. That much was clear.

"Unfortunately, my lord—"

"Then tell Lord or Lady Diamond I must speak with one of them. I don't care which one, but I refuse to be left standing on the doorstep like a beggar."

Matthew stared down the butler, daring him to shut the door in his face instead of allowing him entry.

After a brief hesitation, Mr. Dunley stood back, opening the door wide.

"If you will wait in the drawing room, my lord, I will fetch someone ."

The man sounded exasperated.

For all Matthew could expect, Miss Brilliance or Miss Radiance might enter. Thankfully, ten long minutes later, it was Purity herself, rigid as a flagpole. She didn't smile or greet him politely. She entered the room silently, came to a standstill a few feet in front of him, and waited.

"Good day," he offered, suddenly nervous at her lack of greeting. Her expression couldn't have been any less formidable than Medusa's, and he almost didn't want to look into her deep-blue eyes for fear of being struck down.

"Are you well?" he asked.

She nodded, her lips pursed.

"Did you receive my flowers and my notes?"

Again, she nodded.

"Won't you speak?" he asked.

She paced away from him and back again.

"I don't like confrontation, nor impolite remarks," she said, "and thus, I do not wish to converse with you at present."

Matthew had already removed his hat, and now he scratched his head.

"I am only confronting you in person because I could see no other way to elicit a response. As for the other, I shall refrain from any remarks that might be indecorous or rude as best I can."

"I was speaking of myself," she said. "Since everything I want to say to you seems to be about your sordid actions, I think it better if I remain silent."

"Absurd," he said, scanning his mind over the past few days. "I have not become any more of a scoundrel now than I was a week ago. Therefore, whatever has changed is within you, and I want to know why. I believe I deserve an answer even if you must speak about indecorous topics."

"You deserve nothing but contempt," she said before closing her mouth tightly again as if regretting even having said that little.

Inside, Matthew felt a wave of panic. He had been downright happy as her future husband. He couldn't believe it might end so abruptly.

"You are judging and condemning me without even telling me why."

She nodded.

"That isn't being polite," he said. "That is cowardly."

Purity gasped. "It does not hold that one who is reserved and well-mannered is a coward," she said. "Simply because I lack boldness of speech and action."

"Then tell me," he demanded.

"Lady Varley," she said simply, her tone brittle.

He sighed. In truth, he was a little surprised this bee had got into Purity's bonnet again. He thought that was behind them.

"I told you she is in the past."

"But not the distant past," she insisted. "Much more recently, I understand. Were you or were you not alone with her in your home?" She tilted her head and observed his reaction.

The devil take him! Instantly, he realized he ought to have told her. Appearances were important in his world, and vastly more so to Purity. And this appeared bad indeed.

With Purity's gaze upon him, Matthew could not lie, but fortunately, he didn't need to.

"The incident was so inconsequential I did not bring it to your attention. Lady Varley came to my home with the intent of us taking up together."

Hadn't he told himself Purity was a smart, discerning woman? But she could not have guessed this. Emilia had to have told her. He wondered what else the witch had said.

Purity remained silent, still watching and waiting.

"I should have told you," he said, understanding dawning on him. "Because if we are a couple, then there ought not to be secrets between us."

She nodded.

"At least now I know why I have been banished. May we sit?"

Stiffly, she took a seat upon the sofa. Purposefully, he sat on a chair rather than beside her.

"I would not do anything to hurt you," he vowed. "When she showed up at my door, I told her in plain, uncertain terms I was not interested, and she left."

"Even after I told you Lord Varley had paid me a visit, you didn't return the confidence."

He considered his actions. "I knew it would bother you, but I can see not telling you has bothered you more."

"Especially because I had to hear it from her , as if you two shared a clandestine pact."

Her wounded tone broke his heart, and he couldn't help rising to his feet and going over to sit beside her.

If possible, she sat even straighter and stiffer. Not caring about the propriety, he reached for her hand, which was ungloved, soft and perfect, and held it between both of his.

"Please, kitten. That woman is not worth a disagreement of this proportion. I, for one, am only grateful she is not my wife. I even feel sorry for Varley."

She nodded, staring at their entwined hands. "I suppose I do, too."

"Please forgive me for not telling you." With the matter explained, Matthew thought she would agree to forgive him. He was wrong.

"I do not care for lies or half-truths," she said, "or being kept in the dark."

"Naturally," he agreed. "And I won't do it again. I promise."

"Is there anything else you wish to disclose?" she asked.

He swallowed, his mind casting around through all the years of misbehavior.

"Could you be more specific?" he asked. "If you wish me to tell you about every poor choice I've made, then we might need to order the tea tray."

She didn't even crack a smile.