He didn’t falter in his step. “Why, I have been here all night.”
She nearly spat out the wordliar, glad she still had the composure to bite her tongue. A moment later, Purity tried again.
“I haven’t seen you upon the dance floor, not once.”
“That’s because I haven’t danced. I ran into a friend—”
He had probably run right into some blowsabella.
“Lord Quinn,” he continued. “I confess, he had a flask of cognac we were sharing over in that alcove with another chum.”
Purity gazed where he gestured with his head, and there was a gentleman leaning against the wall, speaking with another man.
“I see,” she said, her ire deflating. She had been looking in the wrong place, and those infernally large flower arrangements everyone was so keen on creating in oversized vases had been hiding him. “Then I, too, must confess. My imagination got the better of me. I assumed you were living up to your reputation.”
“As a reprobate?” he asked, understanding immediately.
She shrugged slightly, then nodded.
Instead of being annoyed or insulted, he grinned down at her, turning her knees weak.
“Why are you looking like that?” she asked, wishing he would turn off his compelling charm.
“Because, kitten, I am thrilled you were looking for me at all. And here I thought you didn’t like me. By the by, did I tell you how lovely you are in that burgundy satin? It’s fierce but very feminine.”
The heat crept up her neck.
“And now you’re blushing so prettily, I want to sweep you out of here and kiss those rosy cheeks.”
“Cease your nonsense,” she said. “You are teasing me, which is not very kind.”
“Isn’t it?” He tightened his hold upon her. “I never said I was a kind man.”
“I suppose you didn’t.”
“Why, then?” he asked.
“Why what?”
Foxford cocked his head. “Why were you looking for me?”
Purity was caught off guard. She plucked from her brain the first answer that came to mind.
“We are not supposed to carry on such a serious conversation lest it mar the enjoyment of the dance.”
“My enjoyment isn’t marred in the least,” he assured her. To prove it, he gave her an energetic twirl at the end of the room.
“I’m glad you chose a waltz, but it would be easier to converse if we were alone somewhere quiet. Shall we take a walk in the garden when the music ends?”
“And there is the Fox I was expecting,” Purity said, bewildered to find herself pleased that he’d asked her.
“Merely to talk,” he promised, yet the glint in his eyes intimated more exciting, unspeakable actions.
She shivered. For a moment — a long, wistful moment — she considered how much she longed to cooperate with his wicked intentions. Then she cast such impossible thoughts aside with a sigh.
“Of course,” Purity agreed. “We shall simply tell my mother we are heading out into the darkness. She will have no problem with that.”
His grin reappeared. “Isn’t there some warning about the use of sarcasm in your manners book?”
