First thing, though, he wanted to clear the air, no matter how impossible that was in London proper. There, ten miles to the west in Brentford, where it was literally cleaner air, he could clear it in the figurative sense, too.
“I apologize for my overly exuberant display after your performance at the party. I was wrapped up in my admiration for you, not realizing I would cause embarrassment.”
“I knew you meant no harm,” she said. “I only kept my distance the remainder of the evening to tamp down any whispers that might immediately begin.”
“That was prudently done of you,” he agreed, although he was starting not to give a damn about who whispered what.
“To that point,” he said, daring to broach the subject, “as I mentioned in the past, I have been seeking a wife. And while I appreciate all your attempts to civilize me, I think I would like to bring our lessons to an end.”
“Is that so?” she asked a little stiffly. “And yet your exuberance, as you called it, plainly demonstrated your need for further etiquette instruction.”
He laughed. “I fear all the tutoring in the world won’t make me anywhere near as perfect as you, a most proper person who knows the correct response in every situation.”
“That makes me sound insufferable,” she said quietly. “Or fastidious, as my father rightly thinks me.”
“No, not at all.” He stopped and made her stop, too. He couldn’t abide by her doubting her appeal. “You are wonderful, kitten.”
She gave a strange gasping laugh, her blue eyes flashing. “I thank you, Lord Foxford.” She grinned at him and put her handup to shield her eyes, for the sun was directly over his shoulder. “Then why do you wish to stop our lessons?”
He grinned back. His heart was experiencing a strange ache, which he attributed to standing in the open air with a beautiful woman of whom he had grown immeasurably fond. It was so much more satisfying than even tupping a skilled courtesan, whom he knew nothing about nor wished to know.
“Because I would far rather court you, and I hope if you stop seeing me as your hopeless student, you might consider me as a suitor.”
Purity didn’t dismiss him out of hand. She blinked, and then — wonder of wonders — she nodded ever so slightly.
“Is that ayes?”
“I am considering your request,” she said seriously.
Matthew nearly put his hands upon her waist so he could lift her in the air and twirl her around. Of course, she read something of his wild thoughts on his face and took a step back. Then she glanced to see where her family was.
“We ought to catch up with the rest of my group,” she told him.
Matthew didn’t mind. She had all but said she would marry him.
Perhaps not.Yet it was a far cry from the first time he went to her home when she flatly denied him any possibility of ever courting her. In fact, he was proud of how far he’d come.
And with that victory, he settled down to enjoy the afternoon. They participated in the games set out for invited guests. With her family, they played pall-mall. Lady Hollidge and her husband outscored the rest of them. There were rowboats for those so inclined, including Lord and Lady Diamond, and Matthew beat Purity and her younger sisters at bowls.
The weather held, despite clouds gathering down river toward the Channel. When it was time for the picnic, brought inwagons from the kitchens of Syon House by a veritable army of staff, they had all worked up an appetite.
Feasting on sandwiches of roast chicken and sliced tongue, along with meat pies of every variety, it was easy to believe themselves at a club or an inn. Salad, cold vegetables, and pickled eggs rounded out the offerings with loaf after loaf of bread and light, creamy butter. Along with sweet cider and lemonade, it was the ideal outdoor luncheon.
Matthew was seated between Purity and her redheaded sister at one of the many tables set out, and he had no need to speak a word through the whole meal since the Diamond family never stopped chattering. From their father, he learned about the house’s Georgian renovations, using the same Lansdowne House architect, Robert Adam.
Making eye contact with the other quiet male figure, Lord Hollidge, they shared a moment’s understanding of being on the outside. Matthew thought he would be a good man to get to know in the future.
And then to everyone’s delight, wandering musicians came down to the picnic site from the house, a flutist, a violinist, and a mandolin player.
“Like a medieval banquet,” the youngest sister, Miss Brilliance, declared.
Dessert was offered. Small cakes, lemon biscuits, custard tarts, and more, until Matthew wondered how any of them would ever stand again.
As if knowing his thoughts, Purity set down her empty lemonade glass, picked her gloves off her lap, and rose to her feet.
“I need to walk,” she announced as the men scrambled to get up. Then she glanced at him. “It is good for one’s digestion.”
Turning her back, she politely tugged on her gloves out of his view before looking again at him with a questioning glance.
