Chapter Twenty-Four

L ady Hollidge sounded downright fierce, and Matthew realized she had been playing at the part of kind hostess every bit as well as Purity. Her sister was, in fact, blazing angry. He would be lucky not to receive another stinging Diamond slap.

"I most emphatically vow I did not tup her on my sofa," he said, thinking too late how he ought to curb his vulgar language. In any case, he distinctly recalled always going to Emilia's townhouse. But that Lady Hollidge should even bring up the sofa was a mystery to ponder.

"You vow and yet you appear to still be considering," she said.

"It's not that. I admit I had an association with Lady Varley before she was married, but how on earth did you know she was on my sofa recently?"

"My sister told me. She also informed me you inexplicably wished to purchase a new one."

It was coming clear to him. "And hence Lady Purity assumed it was because that one was sullied."

"Indeed, she did," Lady Hollidge agreed, "because the female in question confessed to sullying it. With you! Moreover, you just admitted Lady Varley was on it."

"She came over uninvited, as I told your sister. I neglected to mention how I found her reclining like Lady Muck-Muck because I thought it would upset my fiancée."

At Lady Hollidge's doubtful countenance, he added, "I swear it. You need only use the brains God gave you. You said yourself I could not find a finer woman than your sister, and I wholeheartedly agree. So why would I ruin our engagement with a married woman who cannot hold a candle to her?"

Lady Hollidge tilted her head, again reminding him of Purity.

"Mayhap you did it because it was easy, because Lady Varley put herself before you, and because you thought you would get away with it."

"Ridiculous," he insisted. But how to prove himself? He didn't know the words to convince her.

"I don't agree with talking about another lady when she is not privy to it, but in this case, I must. I broke off my extremely brief entanglement with Lady Varley before I went to the Continent. Thus, it makes no sense that I would take up with her now when she is married, and when I ..." He hesitated, unable to believe he was going to say these words to Lady Hollidge, but he tapped his chest in the vicinity of his heart, the area that had been aching since Purity had fled in tears, leaving him speechless in the Diamonds' drawing room.

"When I have finally found a woman I adore with every fiber of my being. When at last, I am happy," he finished.

Like sunshine streaming through a window, the viscountess's entire face lit up, and Matthew thought her nearly as breathtaking as Purity. When she smiled at him for the first time, transforming from lovely to spectacular, he knew everything was going to be fine. What an absurd but wonderful gift the eldest sister had.

"Well said," came a man's voice.

Matthew turned to see the viscount leaning against the door's casement, arms folded, having taken in the entire conversation.

When Matthew rose to his feet, the man came over and shook his hand.

"I couldn't help eavesdropping because, well, frankly, I wasn't going to leave my wife alone with an ill-famed rake."

Matthew shook his head. "That is all behind me."

"I am very good at understanding people," Lady Hollidge said. "Am I not, Alex?"

"You are," Lord Hollidge agreed.

Matthew thought them a charming couple.

"I can hear your earnestness," Lady Hollidge continued, "when you speak of my sister."

"I am entirely in earnest," Matthew assured her. "It is my greatest desire to marry Lady Purity and make her happy. I will follow all her rules of decorum and politeness and do so willingly."

Lady Hollidge gave a single clap. "Perfect. Then I shall speak with her. I assume that is why you came here, to plead your case."

"It is."

"Why do you wish to get rid of your sofa?" Lord Hollidge asked.

"Lady Varley's boots," Matthew explained. "She rudely rested them on the velvet. What's more, her perfume clings like ivy to bricks. I want to honor Lady Purity when she comes to live in my home and make it her own. That sofa could be cleaned, but it wouldn't be respectful to allow my beautiful bride to sit upon it."

He finished with a shrug.

"You really do understand and love her," Lady Hollidge said, glancing at her husband. "I couldn't be more relieved."

Purity waited for the reappearance of her fiancé, as she was allowing herself to think of him again. Both Clarity and her husband had made a point to come over and speak on Foxford's behalf.

Accordingly, from the upstairs window, when she saw his carriage draw up to the house, she raced down to wait in the drawing-room doorway.

Foxford had come back!

"My lord," she greeted when Mr. Dunley gave him entrance. "Please come this way."

She wished she had her older sister's lack of inhibition and could throw herself into his arms. Instead, she had only the proper words for the occasion.

"I offer my deepest apologies," she told him immediately. "I jumped to a conclusion without letting you explain. Lady Varley put lies in my ear at the King William Street ball. Then you seemed to confirm her poisonous words by mentioning the sofa."

He considered a moment.

"In the place of an apology," he said, "I would rather you let me kiss you."

"But you must accept my sincere regret," she insisted. Didn't he know her heart would be heavy with guilt until he did? "That's how these things are handled and overcome and then put behind us."

"Is that so?" He offered a smile that tugged at her heart.

"Don't you think?" she asked. He had a look on his face that said otherwise.

Instead of agreeing, Foxford moved closer.

Purity didn't back up. She'd been desperate to feel his arms around her and now stood her ground until they were toe-to-toe.

"Lady Purity Diamond, may I please have the honor of kissing you senseless?"

She laughed at his question, asked almost seriously. But he was waiting for an answer, for her permission. Since they were alone, she nodded.

Foxford rested a hand on either side of her waist and drew her close.

"You haven't yet said you forgive me," she reminded him.

He dropped a kiss on her lips, causing the first sizzle to snake through her.

"I struck you," she said, but he kissed her again.

"Rather hard," she added as he nibbled a path down her neck, making her shiver.

"Strange, the effect you have on me," Purity said, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the paneled door. "For I am the least violent person you could hope to meet."

His lips were on the upper swell of her breast, but he paused and lifted his head. She opened her eyes to see his eyebrows raised.

"Truly, I am," she promised. "And I vow I shall never again slap you."

He grinned. "I forgive you, kitten. After all, if I hadn't been a scapegrace in the past, then you wouldn't have thought the worst of me."

"I will not jump to any more conclusions."

"I know it's hard to trust me, but I shall tell you what I told your sister since I ought to have told you first."

She bit her lower lip. What was he confessing now?

"I adore you."

Oh!

"I don't know how it happened. I wasn't expecting it when we met, not even after we kissed. I only knew I wanted to see you again. And again."

His hands were caressing her, roaming up and down her ribcage, and Purity fervently wished she didn't have on quite so many layers.

"And every time I encountered you, I admired you more until I didn't want a single day to go by without you in it."

She nodded, knowing exactly how he felt.

"I have come to the point," Foxford finished, "when your happiness is more important than my own, and I wish to have you naked in my bed every night and wake up beside you each dawn."

Despite being more than a little shocked by his words, she definitely wanted to be bare-skinned with Matthew Foxford. Yet hearing him say it aloud made her fight the urge to hush him.

He swooped in for another searing kiss.

In the span of a heartbeat, her body ignited into flames. Foxford pressed her against the door, caging her with his broad hands on either side. His long physique leaned into her softness, sparking every wicked fantasy she'd had of him.

"Hot," she murmured against his mouth as her body grew heavy with wanting.

"Mm," he agreed. "That's why being in the buff like an Abram cove is so appealing. I cannot wait to strip you on our wedding night."

That freedom sounded blissful. When he lowered a hand to her skirts, she again closed her eyes.

"I want to draw up your gown like this," he said.

The whispering glide of her soft shift along with her stiff petticoat and brushed cotton day gown slid up her stocking-clad legs.

"And then I want to stroke your thighs."

Somehow, he was managing to do exactly that. His fingers slid into the opening of her drawers at her apex and skimmed across the skin of her upper thigh, making her knees wobble.

Deep inside, desire flooded her, and she tilted her hips toward him.

"I want to touch you," he whispered against her collar bone. "Everywhere."

She wanted that more than she wanted air. In fact, she couldn't catch her breath, alternately panting and holding a lungful.

Time stopped. She waited, her core throbbing.

Purity bit her lower lip. When the pad of Foxford's thumb stroked softly across her core, she gasped. When he did it again, a moan escaped her. As her heartbeat sped up from fluttering to galloping, the pulsing between her legs matched its pace.

Keenly aware of the hard door behind her buttocks and shoulders, she was grateful for its support as Foxford continued to caress her with a firmer sweep of his fingers.

Relishing each touch, she craved the next and the next, realizing there was a steady rhythm to his ministrations, like musical notes. Her body grew molten, her breasts heavy, and even her skin became prickly all over.

When tension built low between her hips, she moaned, desperate for release.

Mindless of anything except his hands and his mouth upon her, when he tugged at her décolletage with his teeth and his lips clasped her nipple, she hissed her pleasure and began to unravel.

Thrusting her hands into his hair, she kept his mouth in place. As he sucked harder, her core tightened, and shuddering pleasure rolled through her. She could do nothing but cling to his thick head of hair and bask in the cresting sensations as they peaked and finally ebbed.

As soon as her body began to relax, he removed his hand from under her skirts, and she felt them fall back into place. Still gulping air, eyes closed, Purity relished the moments of being so wildly wanton that she could not even stand straight. For surely, having been turned to jelly, she would collapse at his feet if she pushed away from the drawing-room door.

"Kitten," Foxford said softly, and she opened her eyes.

"Should I apologize?" he asked before offering her a wry, tilted smile. "At least I am fairly certain you are not going to slap me."

Having his golden amber gaze on her, realizing where she was and what he had done, her cheeks heated as much as her entire body had only seconds before.

"Now, now," he said. "Don't go hiding behind that blushing countenance. You are mine, remember? And I am yours. We are allowed to pleasure one another."

" Before the wedding?" she asked, knowing the correct answer. This was most definitely not in any etiquette book for engaged couples.

"I have reformed in all regards except where you are concerned," he said. "I restrained myself quite honorably."

She knew he was teasing. "I think perhaps you should allow me a few feet of air," she said.

He nodded, and to her mortification, he drew the neckline of her dress up to cover her nipple. How had she not realized they were having a discussion while she was exposed?

"Sweet Mary," she whispered when he moved away, and she took a weak step.

This made him chuckle. "You came so quickly, like a firecracker needing only the smallest spark."

"Stop, please," she begged, but she couldn't wipe the foolish smile from her face. Knowing the act of joining as man and wife was still to come, she could hardly fathom what that would feel like. But she would be counting the days.

"May we take up where we left off the other day?" he asked. "Can you come with me to choose furniture? Perhaps your mother would join us?"

"My parents have gone for the day and taken my younger sisters. And my brother is back at university this week."

His eyes lit up, and suddenly, she found herself once more in Foxford's embrace.

"You should have told me that at the start, and we could have done so much more. We still can."

"You are a rogue," she said without rancor. "I shall take my maid and be pleased to go with you."

In fifteen minutes, Purity, along with Alice, climbed into Foxford's carriage, her body having finally calmed and her heartbeat having slowed to normal. They went only as far as Motcomb Street, passing close to the baron's home on Belgrave Square. With a fluttering feeling, Purity imagined going inside to see his private life, which would soon include her.

They alighted at The Pantechnicon, entering one of the two large buildings through the Greek-style Doric column fa?ade.

"I purchased my curricle next door," Foxford said, pointing to the other building.

She had been to the "shop of shops" before, but it was always a monstrous thrill to see so many varied goods housed in one place. Purity thoroughly enjoyed choosing not only the style of sofa and its fabric, but at Foxford's insistence, new drawing-room chairs, too.

"It couldn't be any easier than to purchase here," he said, "and have everything delivered five minutes away to your new home. They have a special wagon just for the furniture deliveries. I see them going up and down the street nearly every day."

She was comfortable enough to tease him. "You aren't purchasing new chairs because Lady Varley lounged upon them, too, are you?"

He laughed out loud before answering, "Not at all."

Then she thought about his reputation. She wasn't sure what could be done on a wingback chair or a tufted ottoman, but after the way he'd touched her against a door, she supposed anything was possible.

"Or any other women?" she asked more seriously, half fearing the answer.

"Any other women, what, my sweet?" he asked, beaming at her.

She decided to drop the matter. She was in love with a former libertine, and she had better get used to it. There were bound to be a few bumps in the road to their happily ever after existence.

In a display of pianos, Purity played on three of them to try out their resonance and timbre. Other shoppers stopped to listen. Afterward, she told him quietly she preferred her own instrument, not wanting to insult the purveyors.

"And I prefer playing your body," he whispered in her ear. "I never knew how talented my fingers were until today."

Almost combusting on the spot, she had to draw out her fan and cool her face. They finished by strolling through the wine department.

Afterward, they went to the drapers to choose new curtains and the famed carpet dealer at the East India warehouse on Billiter Street.

"A better price and selection," Foxford had said, "than going to one of the Oxford shops."

And then they decided to go to Gunter's for a refreshing ice dessert.

At the shop's entrance, a child shouted out, "Papa."

Thinking nothing of it apart from the sweetness of the tone, Purity turned to see the giver and the receiver of such a loving address.

Foxford had turned, too.

Purity saw a little girl over his shoulder with light brown hair. Strangely, when the child called out the word again, she seemed to be speaking to him .

What's more, Foxford moved a few steps in the girl's direction.