Chapter Six

M atthew almost took a step back but managed to hold his ground. Never had a mother asked him anything like that. Her frankness nearly spoiled the fun of trying. Besides, he had two choices, lie to the woman whom he hoped would become his mother-in-law or tell the truth.

"I am not here today to do so, although Lady Purity is exceedingly tempting."

Some other day, in another place, yes, he might try to ruin her. He could make no promises to the contrary, and he hoped she didn't ask him to.

Lady Diamond frowned, and then she nodded.

"I see." She turned to her daughter. "I will send Mary in with tea and a few sheets of paper. And I shall find Alice to sit with you. Good day, Lord Foxford."

She was gone before either of them could say anything.

"I have never met anyone like Lady Diamond," Matthew said. "And who is Hollidge?"

"A long-time friend of the family who married my older sister."

Matthew sat in the space vacated by her mother on the sofa, no longer interested as long as the man wasn't a rival.

"Begin," he said. "Pretend I am your suitor. How would you wish me to behave? If I visited after you had given me permission, would I be allowed to sit close and take your hand?"

He shifted over until there was not an inch between their hips and thighs. Stripping off his gloves, he took hold of her hand. "Like this?"

Drawing her hand away, Lady Purity bristled. "No, you would not. You should sit where you were. Don't ever lean against a lady and only take her hand when it has been offered."

He didn't move. "Tell me more."

"Aren't you going to change seats?

"We are only play-acting, so I see no necessity for moving. I have filed the knowledge away until I have a sheet of paper. What else can you think of, ma chère ?"

"Don't speak with any affectation, including dropping in a smattering of French, no matter how perfect your accent. You did it the other night at the Fenwicks', too. All provincialism, foreign accents, mannerisms, exaggerations, and slang are likewise considered detestable. Above all, do not be flippant."

"Flippant?" Matthew asked. He might have to remain silent for his normal everyday parlance was ripe with flippancy.

"Gentlemen sometimes address ladies in a flippant manner," she pointed out, "such as calling me kitten ."

He winced. On the other hand, he had no intention of not calling her whatever he liked. It was too much fun.

"Most well-brought up ladies will feel obliged to ignore your deviations from the expected civility in conversation, appearing not to notice while inwardly rebelling against you."

"Are you rebelling?"

She sighed. "We are not talking about me . I only point out that an otherwise worthy man can cause himself irreparable harm when it comes to courting by creating a poor lasting impression without even realizing it. Flippancy denotes ill-breeding."

"Does it?" Matthew didn't like to think that was the case.

"It does," she insisted. "Even if it's not true but merely a personal failing. Add to that a man who keeps a vapid smile upon his face or has a wandering eye, a vacant stare, or as you did earlier, have your mouth half-open and ready to interrupt. These are all unwelcome traits in a suitor. Or a friend, for that matter."

"Duly noted." He was starting to wish he had written down her instructions when the maid entered with the tea service, followed by another maid, whom he took to be the aforementioned Alice.

The first placed a silver tray with a porcelain pot, two cups and saucers, and a plate of biscuits in front of them on the low table before the sofa, and then she withdrew a folded sheet of paper and a pencil from her pocket.

"Please give those to Lord Foxford," Lady Purity said. "That will be all." The girl curtsied and left. Then she addressed the other servant. "You may take a seat by the bookshelf."

The second maid nodded and went to the other end of the room.

"Now we are set to rights," Lady Purity said. "Everything is as it should be."

"Until I say how kind you are being, comme un doux ange."

"You think you are being funny, but I will not waste my time," she vowed. "I won't be a sweet angel, as you say, if you don't take this seriously."

"I suppose you don't wish to hear my brogue, either, sweet lass ," he said, laying it on as thickly as a highlander.

She stared, stone-faced.

Matthew sighed. "I will take it seriously." And he made a little cross over his heart.

She was adorable when her dander was up. Then he tried to write with the single page resting on his pant leg and tore the paper.

"This won't do," she said. "We shall resume our tutelage in the library at the next mutually convenient time."

"What more is there?" he asked, half to himself, although pleased they would meet again, perhaps alone in the Diamonds' library.

"More?" her voice rose. "We have barely begun. You must learn to reflect before you speak, stop referring to any private matters in public, avoid all impertinent questions, make sure you never perform mimicry that embarrasses the other person, don't give advice unless asked, don't be ambiguous or whisper in front of others, never speak a classical quotation in mixed company—"

"Why not?"

"You just interrupted me, but the answer is because it makes you look like a snout-nose. That is, you are offering an ostentatious display, which no one appreciates. You must always take the woman by her left arm when on the street, keeping her against the building. If you cross the street, and continue in the same direction, then you must switch arms."

Matthew ran a hand through his hair. In truth, he had never been taught these things. Many of these rules came naturally through interacting politely with others and doing as they did in most cases. Except when he wanted to behave naturally with the men at Boodle's. Whenever he had been with a willing female, she didn't care if he whispered wicked French into her ear as he drove into her.

All these stodgy manners seemed to be for people forced together who didn't really wish to converse or learn anything about one another.

God, he hoped Purity would marry him because he couldn't imagine the tedium of watching his every word with ladies he was hoping to woo. Light-skirts and mistresses never gave a damn what he said. He nearly said that aloud, too.

Moreover, he would need something stronger than tea if he had to beat all this into his brain.

"Your mind has drifted. One of the very things I said was impolite. I am not going to waste my time any further today."

"It is simply so much to take in, and as you said, I need to write it down."

"Why don't you write down what you remember when you go home, and the next time you're here, we can review it and continue."

Was this getting him any closer to winning her?

"I am pleased you will allow me to come back."

A spark of triumph lit inside him. She must like him a little. Unfortunately, there was no way to steal a kiss today. Even he wouldn't humiliate her by doing so in front of her maid. More was the pity, too, because he had a notion he could win her better — or at least, easier — with pleasure than in any other way. Matthew didn't think it would take but a few caresses to have her helplessly willing.

Lady Purity shrugged. "I would help a needy urchin from Spitalfields or a stray dog that wandered in with matted fur."

She had doused his triumph quite handily. Ouch!

Purity knew she was being hard on him, but Foxford was a slightly ridiculous, albeit mesmerizing man. She would have to be careful not to fall for him since so far, he made her tingle whenever she was in his presence.

To counter it, she had to embody the harshest teacher she recalled from her brief time at Ponder's End Boarding School for Young Ladies — namely the master of arithmetic who was as stern and strict as a sergeant — and view Lord Foxford as the densest of pupils. It wasn't easy. He made her want to laugh, but that would encourage him in his bad behavior.

And he made her want more than that.

When he sat beside her, she thought her body would erupt into flames. Moreover, the tingling along her skin where he rested against her arm and the length of her leg was entirely distracting. It was a wonder she could teach him any manners at all.

But she hadn't forgotten a moment of his inappropriate conduct outside of her home. Neither what she'd experienced for herself, nor what she'd read in the papers, no matter how loosely disguised The Times made their reports, by using their coy language of a "foxy tod" or "a rakish reynard," or "a certain Lord F who might be better at the hunt than most of his counterparts."

To keep her mind off his handsome visage when she had to look at him, she focused on his left earlobe, the one with the crimp. As far as she'd seen, it was his only flaw.

"How did you get that imperfection on your ear?" she asked, immediately slapping a hand across her mouth. "Again, my apologies. I don't know what is it about you that makes me forget my years of upbringing."

His naughty grin didn't help. It made her stomach do flutter with excitement.

"My poor manners are affecting you, it seems, as much as yours are influencing me," Foxford mused. "I will let you wonder how it occurred, my lady. But I will give you a hint. Teeth were involved."

The blackguard! As she gasped, her insides danced again at the thought of a woman in the throes of passion biting his earlobe.

Glancing at Alice to see if she'd heard, Purity was relieved to see her enjoying an installment of Sweeney Todd or Varney the Vampire , either of which penny dreadful she usually kept rolled up in her apron pocket. Not only was she yards away, she was in a fictional world all to herself.

However, with Lord Foxford staring at her intensely, she absently reached out to snag a biscuit.

Was he taking any of this seriously?

She would test him at the next assembly.

A rap at the door captured her attention, and she was grateful for the interruption.

Their butler, Mr. Dunley, entered with a card on his silver tray. Purity took it and read, noticing Lord Foxford peering over.

"Lord Emberry," he scoffed. "That looby!"

Purity rose to her feet, and Foxford swiftly followed.

"Show him in, Mr. Dunley."

"You cannot be serious!" Foxford said, sounding bothered. "Is that even allowed? Having a visitor enter while another is still here."

Purity hid her smile at his outrage by looking down at the card again.

"It is allowed, my lord. It is also the moment at which you should politely take your leave."

"What? But we haven't finished!"

"I cannot tutor you in all facets in a single day." Before she could say more, Lord Emberry entered.

Purity would swear he was taken aback by the presence of the Fox. She wished there was a way to tell her handsome caller that the man already in her drawing room was no rival. She and Lord Emberry had enjoyed a delightful dance, and thus, she'd agreed to his request to visit.

Welcoming him warmly, she stretched out her hand to him, hearing Foxford make a sound of exasperation.

Stepping forward, Lord Emberry disregarded him, took her proffered hand, and bowed over it.

"I hope I have not interrupted anything," he said.

"You are," Foxford said rudely.

"Most definitely not," Purity insisted. "Lord Foxford was about to leave." She turned a severe glance toward him.

Luckily, he realized fighting now would be not only useless but dreadfully rude as well. For he nodded, looking resigned.

"Saw you in the papers again, old chap. Morning edition of The Times ," Lord Emberry spoke up. "Quite the prattle about you and Lady Julia Jameson."

Purity caught her breath. She recalled the name. Foxford had said she was a lusty beast between the sheets!

"The devil!" he swore.

The improprieties were piling up. First, Lord Emberry should not have brought up any hint of an issue in mixed company, certainly not to embarrass her guest. And now Foxford's language was deteriorating.

What next? Was one of the men going to drop their trousers and start singing "Hasten back from the Crusades"?

As hostess, she had to get this under control.

"Lord Emberry, I would appreciate your not repeating gossip in my presence."

"My sincere apologies, my lady. I was merely surprised to see Foxford directly after having read about him with my midday meal and cup of coffee."

"Maybe you should have poured the cup of coffee over your head and warmed up your brains," Foxford quipped. "They seem to be frozen solid and therefore unusable."

"I say," Lord Emberry began.

"Do you?" Foxford responded, taking a step in his direction.

"Gentlemen, please." Purity wondered how it had got so quickly out of control. "This has devolved into an unpleasant scene. I must ask you both to vacate my home."

"I swear the paper printed a lie," Foxford vowed. "Utter rubbish. I never even danced with her."

"It is not my concern," Purity said, although she hoped he was telling the truth. She didn't like to think of him cheapening himself.

Doing everything wrong, he took her hand before she could offer it. Lingering over her knuckles, he feathered them with his warm breath before he kissed her skin, opening his mouth ever so slightly.

Shocked down to her toes, while a sizzle raced through her body, she could only stare until he raised his head.

"Thank you for your graciousness, my lady. I will see you anon."

She nodded, drawing her hand back slowly, able to feel the imprint of his kiss on her knuckles, along with a little hot dampness.

"Come along, Emberry," Foxford added, gesturing toward the drawing-room door with his head. "You heard the lady. Out. And don't come back."

"I didn't actually say that," Purity reminded them.

"You didn't need to. I'm sure Emberry here won't darken your door again after this egregious display of ill manners. Bringing up such lying tattle in front of a lady."

He nodded curtly to her would-be suitor.

Lord Emberry appeared confounded at how things had gone so wrong.

"Perhaps it best if I take my leave, then, my lady. May I visit another time?"

She considered Lord Emberry's question. "I think it best if you ask me when next we meet," she said.

Foxford waited until the man had bowed and headed for the door, ushering him ahead with a wave of his arm. Then he turned and winked at her, somehow taking all the energy and excitement with him.

At that instant, Alice finally rose to her feet. Apparently, she'd realized the room was empty of visitors or she'd finished reading her story. She'd missed all the conversation, an entire extra gentleman caller, and any matter of impropriety.

"Alice, you may take the tea service back to the kitchen."

It had undoubtedly grown cold, in the same way as she had lost the warmth that infused her in Foxford's dangerous presence.

Then Purity startled, recalling Lord Emberry's words, and hurried out of the room in search of the morning Times .