Chapter Twenty-Five

M atthew knew what would happen as soon as he saw Diana. Or more importantly, as soon as Diana saw him. The child's sweet face was lit with happiness, and she tore her hand from her nanny's grasp and ran toward him at the speed of a wild boar.

Right there, in the middle of the pavement, Matthew bent low and scooped up the little girl as soon as she was within arm's reach, before she managed to crash into his knees as she was wont to do. Her doll, which she always carried, was jammed into his chest. She clung to it like a best friend.

"Well, my lady," he asked her. "How are you today? Enjoying the sunshine?"

She nodded and gave her ever-ready smile. His heart pinched at her innocence.

Thinking of innocence, he was well-aware that Purity was taking this in with her cobalt-blue gaze.

"Spin me," Diana demanded with a regal tone.

Wanting to please her as usual, he spun in a circle, hearing her giggling. He knew he looked like a court jester, but when it came to his little girl, he didn't care if the queen herself was watching.

But he did care what Purity thought.

When he was still again, he glanced back at her. Standing amidst the hurly-burly passing on either side of her, she looked as beautiful as she did when dressed in her finest ball gown. Her gorgeous mouth was slightly open in surprise.

Come to think of it, better it had been the queen than his stunned fiancée!

Not sure what else to do, he nodded, and she unfroze, closing the yards between them, her head slightly tilted with an inquiring expression.

He sighed, giving Diana another squeezing hug. This would undoubtedly become sticky.

With the utmost formality and as if he weren't holding a squirming child, he said, "Lady Purity, may I introduce my d ... Diana."

"Hello," said his bundle of joy, always willing to greet a stranger.

A single raised eyebrow indicated Purity noticed his hesitation. It was gutless of him. He would do better. He couldn't let himself be cowed by fear of losing all the good standing he had only just regained with her.

"She is my daughter ," he added.

And there was the predicted reaction. Purity's eyes widened ever-so slightly. Then she looked again at the girl in his arms, probably trying to discern a likeness.

In the next moment, she spoke to Diana, "Good day to you, Miss Norland," before glancing at him again. "I am correct in that being your family name, am I not?"

"Indeed. I have not yet experienced you being incorrect. Well, maybe once," he teased, thinking of their recent encounter in the drawing room.

He'd hit the mark, and her cheeks pinkened. It was wicked of him. He only wanted her to recall that they were all fallible people, after all.

She rallied. "I was unaware you had off-spring, my lord. Or had been married?"

He noticed the hint of a question.

"I have never wed," he said, feeling less thrilled about the direction of their conversation. "I await that honor with you."

Was she once again going to back out?

"You look like Clara," Diana said, thrusting it forward.

Purity examined the well-loved wax and cotton doll. "Do you think so?" she asked.

Diana nodded. "Yes. She's a pretty baby."

"Then I thank you kindly."

"Papa," Diana said, pushing against him. "Put me down."

He did as instructed.

"Are you coming home with us?" Diana asked him.

At his daughter's mention of "us," Purity looked around until she spied the person who was attending the child, a middle-aged woman.

"No, sweetums. I'll see you later. Be good for Mrs. Caldwell."

Diana made her favorite exaggerated frowning face. "I always am."

Then she grinned, dashing off like the sprite she was, nearly trampling and being trampled in return, before she returned pell-mell to his side once again.

"Goodbye, pretty lady," she said. "Goodbye, Papa."

And then she ran back to her nanny.

"Four years of age?" Purity asked.

"Round about."

This earned him a scowl. "Don't you know?"

"Not precisely, no."

"I see," Purity said. Her saddened expression made his gut tighten. "And she lives with you?"

"You do not understand, I assure you." Matthew wanted to rail with righteous indignation that she was condemning him unfairly. Yet however much he branded his paternity with the stamp of magnanimity, he had fornicated with Diana's mother. There was no denying it. She could as easily be his if the timing were different.

Catching himself from offering a long explanation that had no place in front of Gunter's Café, instead he sighed.

"While I don't think this is the time or place, I owe you the full story."

"You owe me nothing," she said softly. "However, I must return home. I've been out longer than expected, and my family may have returned already. I wouldn't want them to become concerned."

"You no longer wish to have an ice or a cake?" He gestured toward the busy doorway behind her.

"No, thank you," she said, remaining perfectly calm and polite.

That worried him.

Then she added, "You may wish to call your daughter back and offer her a flavored ice."

He didn't respond, still staring into her eyes, trying to discern how much trouble he was in. He shouldn't have concealed Diana from her, but he had hoped they would become close enough he could tell her anything without it mattering. The engagement had happened too quickly, and now he was out of time for telling his secret since his secret had revealed herself.

Matthew should press the point of wishing to convey Purity home in his carriage, but her brittle demeanor spoke loudly. She needed to be away from him and to process what she'd learned. Maybe she simply didn't want to be a stepmother.

Nodding, he doffed his hat and bowed to her.

"At some date in the very near future, I hope you will allow me to enlighten you on Diana's situation. I would hate for you to jump to any conclusions."

Purity pursed her lips, and a spark of anger flared to life inside him. She was so bloody perfect that Matthew didn't know how anyone around her could possibly measure up.

Was he to feel unworthy the rest of his life for having enjoyed himself in his younger years? He wasn't sure he wanted a critical wife who was always going to look down her nose at him, deeming him inferior.

"You knew I was a rake," he reminded her, earning him a stony expression.

She raised a gloved hand at the unpleasant word.

"Good day, Lord Foxford." She started walking before he could respond in kind.

Clearly, she was eager to be away from him.

"Good day, Lady Purity," Matthew said quietly. It was better to let her go.

Obviously, he was out of her books at that moment. And while he was growing weary of being in the wrong and didn't intend to grovel, he would make sure she understood everything.

Purity couldn't deny being surprised to meet Foxford's by-blow. She seemed to be a dear little girl, not to mention fortunate. He had claimed her rather than allowing her to languish in an orphanage, if there was no mother involved.

Was there a mother involved? Perhaps Foxford was paying some woman's keep somewhere while raising their child.

Better he should have been more careful in the first place!

She ought to have been more careful, too. She'd allowed herself to be kissed in her own drawing room — more than kissed, but she couldn't put a name to what else had occurred. The moment Foxford had entered her home, her heart had started to beat faster and her body to tingle delightfully. His skillful touch had caused an overwhelming storm of sensations, which had ended with the most extraordinary release.

Purity could not dredge up an ounce of regret. Even knowing he'd kept from her the information of having a child, which was disturbing and begged the obvious question — what else might he be hiding?

Shaking her head, she looked around, realizing she was walking aimlessly along one side of Berkeley Square and that her maid was once again following. How kind of Alice to give Foxford and her privacy when they had started interacting with his daughter.

His daughter!

Purity could scarcely believe she was now thinking of him as a father.

Why wasn't she angry? True, she had experienced a moment of utter shock, but she was determined to live up to her promise not to pass judgment the way she had over the sofa.

Knowing Foxford had gone to the trouble to plead his case to her sister had further opened her heart to him. She smiled to herself. Despite how wrong she'd been about Lady Varley, he had thought no less of her for having misjudged him, and she'd concluded they would have a good marriage. Like her parents had.

Did his having a daughter change anything?

The little girl had been delightful, as most girls her age were. Purity could and would find no fault with her, nor place upon her any blame the way some people did. No guttersnipe wished to be poor, nor did any orphan wish to be such. They had no more choice in the matter than she did in loving Foxford.

But how could he not know her exact age?

That had been disappointing, making her doubt his responsibility. If he was so offhand about a child, how would he care for a wife? Her thoughts were spinning futilely.

"I think a new hat is in order, Alice," she said, deciding on the spot that she would feel better if she bought something pretty and unexpected. That's what Clarity would do. Naturally, her sister would have already made friends with Diana and probably insisted she join them for ices at Gunter's, whereas Purity had needed distance from the unexpected development. At least for the time being.

There was a shop on Oxford Street she favored, but Old Bond Street was closer, so she headed in that direction. An hour later with a hatbox in hand, she walked the rest of the way home, ready for a restorative cup of tea. It had been an extraordinarily long day with tasks and goals all over London.

And then Purity had what she hoped was a brilliant idea. Sitting at her writing desk, she began to write her betrothed a letter.

Three days later after receiving Foxford's answer, Purity, accompanied by Alice, showed up at his Belgrave Square residence. She carried a special surprise for Diana.

The butler gave them immediate entrance into the drawing room and said both tea and Lord Foxford would arrive at once. Her maid was invited to meet the house staff and thus was whisked away after gaining Purity's nod of approval.

In any other house, with any other man, she knew this would be highly improper. But she was used to being highly improper with him.

As promised, Foxford entered less than a minute later, dressed impeccably, dash-fire handsome, and his face all but healed. Strangely, he looked wary.

"Lady Purity, welcome to my home." He started to move toward her, then stopped. She knew he was trying to behave and keep an appropriate distance.

When he put his hands behind his back and clasped them together, she was touched.

"Won't you have a seat?" he offered. "And put down your basket?"

"I shall do both. Thank you for letting me come today." Her heart was beginning to pound, hoping everything would go smoothly.

Setting the basket on the low table, she took a seat on one of the chairs. There was no sofa yet, and the room was a little short on seating.

She smiled, knowing he had removed the offensive item on her account.

"I allowed my maid to be stolen away by your butler."

"I'm glad you did," he said.

At her raised eyebrows, he added, "Because I was hoping we could speak privately. On the other hand, it worries me somewhat that you acquiesced. In fact, your contacting me and asking to visit gave me pause. I don't think I slept last night."

Before she could say anything more, the butler entered along with a housemaid, both carrying platters with the tea service. Besides the teapot and cups, there was also a plate of small sandwiches, another of assorted biscuits and slices of cake. There was even a bowl with apples and grapes.

"I asked for a variety," he explained, "not knowing what you would prefer. And I made sure it was ready at the appointed time of your visit."

She surveyed the selection, having never seen such an extensive offering for a simple visit in which the host or hostess ought to put out precisely enough to be eaten within fifteen minutes. He was trying so hard.

Purity bit her lip on saying anything apart from the kindest words.

"Everything looks perfect," she told him, expecting him to take the other chair, but he remained standing.

It was a more egregious error than putting out too much food, for remaining on his feet made her feel ill at ease, something the host should never do.

"I believe I know why you have come," he began.

She shook her head. "My lord—"

"I am interrupting you, which is a grievous fault. But once you stash and stow our engagement again, as I fear you are here to do, then I shall not come crawling as before. More current flaws along with the hauntings of previous missteps will undoubtedly emerge, and we shall be in the same circumstance. I have no evidence to prove my innocence for any number of things you think I have done because I am guilty of most of them."

He paced back and forth in front of her.

"The success I had hoped for has proven to be like milking a pigeon since I have failed to win and keep you. Nonetheless, I want you to know I have tried to be a man worthy of your deep affections, and I can do no more."

Then he came to a halt before her. "As for Diana, you have discovered her existence, and I will not apologize for her."

"Yes, I—"

"You have often thought the worst of me with good reason," he continued, "based upon my shady past. And no matter my efforts, I have been unable to prove to you I have changed my spots, like that fabled leopard. When word of our dissolved engagement gets around, my peers will think another one of my escapades, as you once called my ill-advised actions, has driven us apart. No blame shall fall upon you."

With such a tantalizing opening, Purity finally was given leave to speak, but from the basket came the smallest of sounds, followed by another, and then they continued without ceasing.

"What the devil!" Foxford exclaimed, belying all his fine words of improvement by swearing in front of her.

"They were sleeping," she said, "but apparently, they have awakened."

Purity opened the lid. Not one but two tiny, fluffy heads, poked up and over the rim.

"Kittens!" Foxford said, and he couldn't have sounded more surprised than if an elephant had appeared.

She laughed. "Indeed. We have been raising them, but my mother said they are ready to live independently from their mama. My younger sisters are keeping her and two of her babies. My sister, Lady Hollidge, is taking two, and I have brought these two to live with us. I thought Miss Norland would enjoy having them to cuddle and to raise."

"I am certain she would," Foxford agreed.

Rising, Purity lifted up a kitten and held it out to him.

"Oh, well, I ... that is ...," he stammered.

"Come along, my lord. I thought your penchant for the word indicated a fondness for felines."

"No, my penchant for the word only indicates my fondness for you."

Nevertheless, he took hold of the small ball of fluff. "Are you certain it doesn't need its mother any longer?"

"Quite. Cook has been giving them all kitchen scraps, mostly chicken and beef, for a week, and bowls of milk, too, of course."

Purity picked up the other one, not an exact replica but the same gray and white coat.

"We have one with gray eyes, and this one" — she held it up so he could see — "has green eyes. Very pretty."

"I was up most of the night," he told her, "as I mentioned. Thus, I confess I am feeling a little bewattled. Did you say they are here to live with us , meaning with you and me?"

He was unable to breathe while he waited for her answer.