Chapter Thirty-One

" A h-ha! I have caught y—" The woman's voice broke off mid-triumph. "Oh!" Lady Varley added with surprise before stepping back and treading on the foot of another woman behind her, who exclaimed in pain.

Startled, Purity fervently wished her husband had taken the time to lock the door and not merely kick it closed. Regardless, she knew the best course of action was to remain calm. Before she could speak, Matthew was propped upon his elbow, talking to the woman as if they were meeting upon the street.

"Lady Varley, can my wife and I help you in some way? Otherwise, I must insist you turn around and take your maid with you."

Purity knew it wasn't a maid but the witness Lord Varley had mentioned.

"Where is my husband?" Lady Varley asked.

"I haven't the foggiest idea," Matthew said. "Perhaps he is at home, waiting for you. Have you tried looking for him there? For I assure you, he's not here. Why would you think he was?"

He didn't spare Purity a glance, trying to draw all the attention to himself, as if she wasn't truly there. Perhaps he hoped she would toss the counterpane over her head and hide, but it was too late for such modesty.

Lady Varley still looked shaken. Evidently, she had been expecting to find her husband. Wanting to find him, in fact, in their unhinged plan to punish Matthew.

Yet Lady Varley couldn't be driven to help her husband wreak vengeance because he'd lost his first fiancée. Thus, Purity decided her ladyship must be using Lord Varley to soothe her own jealous ire.

What a pair!

With a green-eyed gleam shining from her eyes, Lady Varley had recovered from her shock and swaggered into the room, hands on her hips. The truth dawned on Purity — the woman still wanted Matthew for her own.

"Foxy, Foxy, are you really going to settle for this insipid girl?" Lady Varley swished closer.

Behind her, her friend, whom Purity recognized as Lady Saunders, dithered in the doorway. Clearly, the scandal she was there to see had not materialized. Instead, she was merely intruding upon a newly married couple.

"I can see she has some appeal in a dewy, fresh way," Lady Varley continued, "but you're a man of experience and exotic tastes. In a fortnight, you'll be sniffing around some other bitch."

"I beg your pardon!" Purity said, sitting upright while clutching the bedclothes to her chest. "Such foul language is uncalled for. It is not only unladylike but demeans the speaker far more than the one of whom you speak. Yet it also offends the ears of anyone within hearing. Don't you agree, Lady Saunders?"

"Oh, well, I..." She trailed off and disappeared out of sight.

Purity directed her attention once more to Lady Varley. "Shame on you."

The woman gawked, clearly never having been ashamed of anything.

Even Matthew, who'd probably never been told to feel an ounce of shame either, turned his handsome head to stare at her.

Purity didn't care. Despite lying naked in bed, having recently been tricked by one man and being tupped by another, she believed deep down that proper manners and good behavior were the thread that held the cloth of society together.

Without such, all would be incomprehensible bedlam, a chaotic place in which she would rather not exist.

"As I understand the history between you and Lord Foxford," Purity continued, "you shared a fleeting affair, very brief, one which you didn't wish to end. But to your continued dissatisfaction, he broke it off. The fortnight before he went sniffing elsewhere was what happened to you! "

"I don't know that I was sniffing anywhere, my love," Matthew interjected.

Purity gave him a quelling stare and continued, "I shall not discuss my own history with my husband, but I think you ought to grow a spine of iron, face the facts plainly in front of you, and stop sniveling over Lord Foxford when you are married to Lord Varley. It is most unbecoming and, frankly, degrades the entire female sex. Have you considered that?"

Lady Varley's mouth opened once, then twice, before she snapped it closed.

Purity hoped she was reaching the woman's innate common sense.

"Why would you wish to debase yourself by chasing a man who doesn't want you? Or waste your energy hating him? Is he truly worth it?"

Again, Matthew made a small squawking sound of protest, but she elbowed him under the covers.

"You are an attractive woman, Lady Varley. You ought to be using your resources to build a good marriage. Don't you want children? They are a better legacy than bitterness, I would warrant."

While Purity half-feared Lady Varley would react badly, perhaps throw a fit of temper, instead, she remained silent. In the next instant, she stared again at Matthew, seemingly studying him.

Luckily, he didn't utter a word.

Finally, Lady Varley shook her head and sighed.

"I wish you joy of him," she said to Purity, "although I am hard pressed to believe he will change from being a buck dangler to a rum husband overnight. But that will be your problem, not mine."

With that, she turned and swept from the room. Lady Saunders pulled the door closed before following her friend.

Matthew threw himself back onto the mattress. "My arse on a bandbox! I cannot believe what you just did."

"Lady Varley's friend had very nice manners, don't you think?" Purity mused. "I'm impressed how she stayed quiet throughout, didn't make eye contact to embarrass us, and courteously closed the door. What a gem!"

Matthew started to chuckle. Then he put his arm across his eyes and howled with laughter, his muscular body rocking.

"What is so amusing?" Purity began to feel the tug of annoyance. Was he laughing at her? She poked his shoulder.

Finally, he ceased braying like a donkey and reached for her. Wrapping his strong fingers around her arm, making her shiver at his touch, he pulled her down until she lay beside him again. Turning on his side, he rested on his elbow and looked down at her.

Foolishly, she felt a moment's embarrassment at what had occurred. She hadn't had even a second to contemplate having been caught in bed after swiving. Now, her cheeks bloomed with self-conscious warmth, and she made sure her breasts were covered — all under his mirthful gaze.

"Even at a time like this, you want everything done in a bread-and-butter fashion. You are priceless, my lady. Indeed, you are a—"

"Don't say it," she warned.

Matthew gasped. "You interrupted me," he pointed out. "How unspeakably rude!"

"And I would again," she said, "to stop you from calling me—"

"A Diamond of the first water," he finished.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling. The trite term sounded rather complimentary, not to mention downright sensual when Matthew said the words in his husky tone and then stroked her bare shoulder.

"Since you cannot be un compromised," he pointed out, leaning closer. That same finger now lightly trailed a path down her chest as far as he could before she tightened the counterpane and stopped its progress.

"And since the genie cannot be stuffed back inside the lamp, so to speak, meaning we are naked and alone, we might as well make use of this bed at least once more. After all, I imagine Varley has stuck me with the bill for the room."

Purity nearly denied him. Once could be forgiven as a passionate loss of one's better sense. But twice was premeditated and deliberate flaunting of what was considered all square.

Therefore, she put her hands up to ward him off. As soon as she touched his chest, however, instead of pushing him away, her fingers glided up and over his shoulders so she could draw him down to her.

He was right. Pandora's box was open. They had finally declared their love. They ran hotter than Hades for one another. There was no point in pretending otherwise.

Something had been bothering Matthew from the moment he'd entered the room. And now, as his lovely wife tugged on her gloves after pinning her adorable hat, Matthew knew what it was.

"Why weren't you wearing your gloves when I came in? I have never seen you in that state of undress in public unless dining."

"I removed them just in case," she said, giving the front of her skirts a last smoothing stroke.

"In case of what?" he asked.

"In case I needed to defend myself."

"I know that your slap is more efficient without your glove's impediment, but it would hardly have stopped Varley if he'd intended you any real harm."

"I removed my gloves to uncover my fingernails," she said.

He smiled. "I was correct from the start. You are a kitten, and you unsheathed your claws. I am glad indeed you didn't have to defend yourself."

"I have other methods," she promised, then lifted one knee to demonstrate. "The skirt doesn't make it easy, but I would have managed if I'd had to."

His eyes widened. "I have no doubt you would have. A good thing Varley wasn't the violent type, but I shall be glad to know I have you to protect me should I ever need it."

He almost wished she'd unleashed her claws and her knee. After all, Varley had once said Purity was a prim mouse. After swiving on their wedding night, he'd already known she was a wildcat in bed. Now, he knew she was also a fierce lioness, ready to defend herself should the need arise.

More importantly, they had weathered a potential scandal together. With any luck, the Varleys would recede into the distance, never to bother them again.

When they walked through the front door, Diana was the first to greet them with an embrace. Then as usual, a string of questions came at them like a barrage of soldier's bullets.

"Where were you? Isn't it a pretty day? May we go to the park later? Did you bring me anything?"

"How are the kittens?" Matthew found any talk of them usually distracted her.

Sure enough, as he handed Mr. Jacobs his hat and gloves, Diana prattled on about every detail of Miss Soft and Miss Wriggles, who had been forced to keep the incorrect designation because as she explained it, "Kitties are girls and dogs are boys, Papa."

Despite having some correspondence to get to, he found he didn't want to leave his family. Such a pleasant word — family . He was close to being ready to make the trip up north to introduce his two ladies, as he thought of them, to the rest of his relations.

Knowing he had Purity's heart made his own soar like a falcon, and he wanted everyone to meet the wife who thought him worthy of her love.

And then, he was struck speechless.

Over the fireplace, an unremarkable landscape painting he'd picked up at a Christie and Manson's auction had hung. Now, in its place was the portrait of his father, which he had last seen when he was a boy.

Wordlessly, he looked at Purity who took his arm and held it tightly. Diana was on his other side, staring at the strange man, so very familiar to Matthew.

"How?" he asked finally.

"Who is he?" Diana asked.

"That's your papa's father," Purity answered. "Your grandfather. A handsome man, indeed."

"And a dog," Diana added. "Can we have a dog?"

"No, dear one," Purity answered. "I believe Cook has a snack for you waiting. She was making currant rolls early this morning."

And Diana ran off as his wife knew she would, leaving them alone. Matthew had tears in his eyes and couldn't blink for fear they would spill.

"Are you pleased?" Purity asked, leaning her head on his upper arm and examining the painting alongside him.

Matthew sniffed. After a few moments, he said, "I hadn't forgotten what my father looked like, but the details had blurred over the years. Seeing this, I'm pleased to say he is how my memory informed me." He chuckled. "And that dog!"

Purity laughed. "Is that the one which bit your ear?"

"I believe so. Father said it was always underfoot, but he adored it. I thought it had the most doleful eyes and softest fur," he added. "Not to mention the sharpest teeth."

"Thank goodness it wasn't a sheepdog," she said. "You might have lost your entire ear."

What a gift Purity had given him! He turned to wrap her in his arms.

"I cannot believe the painting is here. The best gift I expected from my wife was my favorite French cologne. How did you manage this?"

She shrugged slightly, but he could tell she was bubbling to tell him.

"As a new bride should, I wrote to my mother-in-law after the wedding."

"I didn't know you had made contact," he said with a frown. "But I think I should have been the one to do that."

She shook her head. "For new circumstances, I consult an etiquette book, such as A Guide to the Usages of Society , or sometimes an earlier work. I've read Il Libro del Cortegiano for amusement only, of course. Many customs have changed since 1528."

"Have they?" he asked, thinking his wife a most remarkable woman. "I suppose you read it in its original Italian."

"Naturally," she said without the least pretension. "In all the modern guides, authors agree that a daughter-in-law should show respect to her new family by introducing herself, so I did. Your mother was welcoming in her letters and happy for both of us. She has invited us to go there and stay. I know you've put it off, but I hope you will consider it soon."

He spoke from his heart. "I cannot wait to show you off. But you didn't explain about the painting. Last I saw it, it was in our country home in Surrey, but my mother cleared it out and sold off everything she could to bring money to her new husband."

"After her first warm letter to me," Purity continued, "when you mentioned not having anything of your father's, I recalled the painting and wrote to her again. She had it stored in their attic in Edinburgh, and I asked her to send it at once."

Matthew shook his head and glanced at it again. "It is as though you have returned him to me."

"I wish I could. Your mother has other things put aside for you. A signet ring, a snuff box, some handkerchiefs, and more. We shall bring it all back here. Maybe we'll have a son one day to whom you shall pass your father's things."

He took her face in his palms. "If we do, I shall be grateful. Yet if we never have anything more than we have right now, I shall consider myself bountifully blessed. In a pragmatic way, I thought it was time to get a wife." He brushed his hand over her beautiful hair, still a little mussed from their tempestuous afternoon.

"I never knew in doing so, I would get back the decent part of me who is my father's son. You have done a monstrous good job of civilizing me, kitten."

Her cheeks pinkened.

Suddenly, Matthew startled. "We met in front of a painting."

"We first kissed in front of a painting, too," she agreed.

He grinned.

"Kiss me," she said.

And he did.