Chapter Twenty-Nine

D ays later, it was his turn to question her when, after dressing to the nines, she was heading out the front door precisely as he came down the stairs.

"Where are you off to today?"

Purity realized she didn't have a ready answer. And in her brief hesitation, his eyes flickered with doubt.

"I am going to visit Clarity and her little ones."

"But you're not taking Diana," he pointed out.

He had caught her in a lie too easily. And now she had to add to it.

"My sister's littlest has sniffles, and I didn't want to risk Diana catching anything again. I will be home in a couple of hours."

She turned, wincing at her string of lies.

"Purity," he called after her.

Freezing in place, she turned back to him as he closed the distance between them.

"You're not taking your maid with you," he asked.

"Being married has a few privileges, my lord. And one is I can at least leave my home when going to my sister's without need of a chaperone."

"And what else?" he asked.

"What else?" she repeated, examining the flecks of gold in his sherry-colored eyes.

"You said a few privileges," he reminded her, drawing her into an embrace.

She smiled up at him. "Then there is being able to kiss a handsome man whenever I wish," she added.

On tiptoe, she kissed him.

"We ought never to go anywhere without doing that," she said, glad he had caught her.

"Agreed," he said before letting her slip out the door.

Having picked up a newly framed painting with the help of their driver, she dropped it off at her sister's home for safe-keeping and away from Matthew's eyes. At least, she had gone to Clarity's in truth.

On the other hand, she could see how easy it was for a spouse to go anywhere and do anything with the other being none the wiser.

The following morning, when her husband disclosed his tasks — first joining Lord Quinn at Tattersall's to view horses before a meeting with his trader at the Stock Exchange at Capel Court, she experienced the same sense of misgiving, a twinge of doubt.

Completely irrational and, as far as she knew, unwarranted. As far as she knew.

But why was he being so particular in his details? He was either reassuring her or fooling her.

When Matthew leaned in to kiss her, her heart ached. The problem, she realized, was clearly etiquette. Somewhere in one of her beloved books on manners, she'd read about the danger of a lady expressing her love ahead of her suitor. However, she and Matthew were past that, and she was a married woman able to think for herself. That night, she would tell him plainly of her love and see what came of it, for she could not go on tormenting herself.

Meanwhile, she expected Clarity any minute with the painting.

However, before her sister arrived with the special surprise, Mr. Jacobs entered her salon with a note delivered by a stranger. Unfolding the page, she was puzzled by the brevity of the words as well as their intent.

Our little girl is unwell. Come to Fenton's Hotel at once. I know she will feel better when she sees you.

Foxford

"Is Miss Norland here?" she asked Mr. Jacobs, thinking her husband's note especially odd since he'd been out of the house for less than an hour.

"No, my lady. She went on an outing with Mrs. Caldwell to Green Park, about the same time as his lordship departed."

Purity supposed if they left at the same time, then Matthew must have bypassed Tattersall's, deciding to walk with Diana to the park, which was not far from the hotel on St. James's Street. If Diana had become ill, then he would have wanted to get her indoors out of the sun and onto a soft bed.

"Very well. Please hail a hackney and give the driver this address." She handed the butler the single sheet. "I shall be downstairs directly."

Feeling a sense of urgency, she hurried to her dressing room, deciding not to change but merely to don her hat and gloves before going downstairs to the waiting cab.

Despite the usual traffic, Purity thought the driver excelled in his duty of getting her across Mayfair. After alighting, she waved him on, knowing she would ride with Matthew on the way home. A quick glance up and down St James's Street, however, showed no sign of his curricle, and she hurried inside Fenton's.

Not the least bit lowly or in any way alarming, the inn was bright and smelled of furniture polish. The carpets were clean, and the establishment had been known to house foreign dignitaries, according to the newspapers.

"Lord Foxford, please," she said to the manager, "and he has a child with him."

"I didn't see a child," the man said, "but his lordship told us to expect you. Room thirty-six. Top of the stairs, end of the hall, upon the right."

"Gracious!" she said. "Do you have thirty-six rooms?"

"No, my lady, we have sixteen." And with that mystifying statement, he bowed and gestured for her to take the stairs.

Upon finding the indicated door, she tapped, and it swung open. Peering inside, she saw no one at all.

All at once, it occurred to her that Matthew was behind the door, and this was a game. Only the night before, they'd been discussing finally going on their wedding trip to Scotland. She had told him how she'd never stayed in a public inn and was looking forward to it.

With a smile on her face, she stepped inside onto a plush carpet. However, when the door closed with a solid thump, it was Lord Varley's hand on the wooden panel, not Matthew's.

"How good of you to come," he said, and his tone sent shivers up and down her spine. She stepped away from him, farther into the spacious chamber, sporting a four-poster bed, a wardrobe, and a writing desk.

"I came because my husband said young Miss Norland needed me." There was no sign of the little girl or the baron.

"Naturally. I knew you would come, regardless of the fact she is your husband's misbegotten brat. As I said, good of you because you are, by all accounts, a good person. Which is why I cannot understand your continued fascination with Foxford, a decidedly bad person."

Purity knew one thing with certainty — Diana wasn't Matthew's, and yet he was caring for her regardless, through the kindness of his nature.

He was no more a bad person than was her Grandfather Diamond, despite having been of a similar nature in his younger days. Thundering bucks were not necessarily bad men, a mistake it had taken her many misjudgments to learn.

None of this was Varley's business. "Where is Miss Norland?"

He cocked his head. "I assume she is with her whey-faced nanny with whom I saw her depart earlier."

"I don't think Mrs. Caldwell is particularly whey-faced at all. Random insults are beneath a gentleman," Purity reminded him, unsettled with the knowledge he had been watching their home.

Lord Varley shook his head. "You are truly a gem, an actual Diamond. I wish I hadn't stepped into the parson's mousetrap before we met, or I would have wooed you with the fervency of a hound having scented a fox."

He laughed softly. "I suppose I shouldn't use any fox metaphors where you are concerned. In any case. Here you are, misled and brought to ruin, and yet you are still chastising me for insulting someone's nursemaid."

Purity caught her breath. How stupid of her!

In her hurry to help the child, she hadn't considered the consequences of rushing headlong into an unknown situation.

"It's a wonder you were never kidnapped or sold to a brothel," Lord Varley continued.

"Stop such foul musings," Purity ordered, "and step out of my way."

"I suggest you make yourself comfortable. By the time I release you from this room, you will be Lady Purity no longer."

For a second, the blood seemed to rush from her head, but she took a deep breath and reminded herself of her parents' teachings, which calmed her. She had no intention of letting this man touch her.

To that end, she quickly removed her gloves, rolled them tightly, and tucked them into her reticule so she wouldn't lose them when she ran. After all, they were her favorite — pale pink and extremely soft leather.

"Oh, dear lady!" he said. "You've blanched. Do not fear for a moment. I shall not lay a hand upon you. I am no scoundrel. Time alone with me in this room will do damage enough, especially when my wife comes by later, accompanied by an impartial friend to bear witness. Along with the manager attesting to the time of your arrival — that's all I need to destroy your reputation beyond any hope."

Purity considered to what end such nefarious actions might produce when he added, "This is not about you. You are merely an unfortunate bystander. It will injure Foxford greatly. When my wife tells the newspapers that Foxy's own baroness, a newly wedded one at that, has met me here for a tryst, he will be rabidly enraged by your betrayal. That will knock him down a few pegs. Frankly, it is long past time."

Purity didn't worry about the latter, not for a second. Matthew would never believe she could play him false. However, having her name sullied — again! — was not to be tolerated. She needed to escape before his wife arrived.

Suddenly, he yanked his cravat until it came free and tossed it onto the bed.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

If he was going to undress, then she was reconsidering her first plan and would use her nails upon him to escape.

"This must look as real as possible. Thank you for removing your gloves. May I press you to take off your shoes as well and perhaps your hat?"

"Are you mad? I can think of no other explanation for these bizarre antics."

His expression darkened. "Do you know something, my lady? I might be a lunatic, driven there by Foxford."

Purity could no longer stand for his position as a victim. "You must take responsibility for your own actions. Were you not dallying with then Lady Tupmoure?"

He sighed. "I was, but that infernal Fox blunders through everything without ever paying the piper while the rest of us are left floundering in his wake. I, for one, intend to pay him back, shilling for shilling."

"By ruining me?"

That seemed to give him pause. But finally, he nodded.

"You seem to be the only person he cares about more than himself. If Foxford is capable of love, I would say he loves you, although I don't believe it will last. He'll have moved on with another female by the Twelfthtide."

Purity hoped not, although that was her constant fear.

"More reason for you to release me," she insisted. "While you are up to the boughs in jealousy and anger at this moment, I believe your conscience will regret taking out your vengeance upon me."

Before she could press her case, there was a pounding upon the door.

Purity's heart skipped a beat. It was too late. Lady Varley and her friend would come in, and she would be ruined far beyond a rumor of a kiss at the Syon Park fountain.

"She is early!" Lord Varley said, sounding annoyed.

To that point, he immediately ran his hands through his hair, mussing it beyond repair without the help of a valet or his comb.

"Must look real for her friend, Lady—"

The door burst open, sending Matthew rushing in shoulder first.

"Are you hurt?" Matthew asked Purity, although he could see she appeared unharmed. Accordingly, his heart returned to his chest from where it had lodged in his throat the moment their butler had showed him the nefarious missive.

"I am not," she said, but she looked pleased to see him, nonetheless. "We thought you were Lady Varley," she added.

"Did you? What a strange thing to say. I don't look anything like her," Matthew quipped. "Nor does this man's wife have the might to do what I just did."

Rubbing his shoulder, he eyed Varley, who appeared in distress and in disarray. "Someone is going to have to pay good coin for that door lock."

"What are you doing here?" Varley demanded, sounding peeved.

"I'm sorry," Matthew replied, ready to start swinging his fists. "Was this a private party?"

"Obviously," Varley replied, gesturing to Purity and to the bed.

Purity stared at him as if she thought he might believe the arse. To reassure her, he winked before crossing his arms and addressing Varley again.

"You are certainly going about it slowly, old chap. If I had this goddess alone in a room, we would be in a tight clench as soon as the door closed and rolling on the bed a minute later."

"Foxford!" his delightful wife exclaimed, her pale cheeks staining pink.

He grinned but had to turn his attention again to the blackguard who began smoothing his hair as he spoke.

"How do you know we weren't so passionate and quick that we've already made the two-backed beast?" Then the man made a great show of swaggering to the bed and snatching up his cravat, which he jammed into his pocket.

"Varley, my good man, if you can make love to a woman without disturbing her hat, then you are a better man than I. Or far less energetic, at any rate. Now, why don't you tell me what this is about before I thrash you within an inch of your life."

Purity stepped forward. "I don't think that's necessary. Lord Varley simply wanted to speak with me. He's not a contented man, you see, and he went about trying to make himself feel better by hurting you. He never meant me any real harm."

Matthew noticed Varley was staring at Purity in shock. Apparently, he hadn't thought his defense would come from that quarter.

"He sought to hurt me through you," Matthew reminded her, "and if I'm not mistaken, he hoped to ruin your reputation beyond repair."

"Yes," she agreed, "but without actually ruining me if you understand my meaning."

He well-nigh rolled his eyes at his lady's precise way of speaking. Besides, Matthew had already ruined her in that regard thoroughly and enjoyably many times over. That was hardly the point.

"She is trying to cover for herself," Varley insisted. "Of course we swived, and she only just put her hat back on."

Matthew couldn't help it. He smiled, and then he started to laugh.