Quinn!For the first time, he recalled the young Miss Brilliance’s words about a couple caught. Lady Diamond had mentioned a country girl.Had the blasted Varleys been rooting out men and women right and left?
Knowing his friend, unless Quinn had fled London, he would arrive at any moment. Indeed, after a mere five-minute wait, Quinn showed his face. Strangely, he didn’t look any worse for his experience and wore his usual affable smile.
“Well met,” Quinn said. “Brandy,” he requested from the server, and then he settled into a comfortable leather chair. “Enjoyable gala, was it not, except for the rain? That and you abandoning me at Syon so I had to make my own way home.”
Matthew had entirely forgotten about that, too.
“My apologies. I had a situation on my hands that distracted me, but I believe you did, too.”
“A situation?” Quinn asked. Then his frown cleared. “Oh, you mean the inconvenient discovery of myself and Miss Moffett having a proper smack.” He shrugged. “It happens, as I am sure you know.”
Matthew was taken aback by his friend’s aplomb. “Who came upon you? Was it Varley and his lady?”
“Varley? No. It was a couple who were also alone together. We all surprised one another. Unfortunately, they made it back to tattle before we could, throwing us under the carriage wheel while they danced a merry jig.”
“And what has come of it?” Matthew asked him. Not an engagement or Quinn wouldn’t be so devil-may-care.
“Nothing has come of it, as I will not allow anything to.” For the first time, his friend’s tone was sharp. “Miss Moffett camewith me of her own free will and enjoyed a little pully hawly. She should be grateful her skirt was down by the time we were discovered.”
Matthew felt a slim shard of disgust.Grateful!He couldn’t imagine dishonoring Purity in such a fashion. A kiss was one thing. But it had been broad daylight with very little cover.
“You knew she was a country girl, did you not?” Matthew asked, unable to stay a tone of disapproval.
Quinn sighed. “Country or Town, a muff is a tuzzy-muzzy is a quim all the same. Even if she’d been back in Derwentwater, if I recall from where she hails correctly, she could not have been unaware of the perils of taking a little delight.”
“You won’t ask for her hand, then?” Matthew already knew the answer.
Quinn laughed for a few moments, then answered, “No.” He sipped his brandy. “I barely know the chit, but what I did realize rather quickly was that she was not suited to be my future viscountess. Eventually I will get around to choosing, but not because of sampling wares at a picnic.”
Matthew fell silent. He didn’t like the way his friend put it, but he supposed if he’d been caught with anyone besides Purity, he would feel the same way.
“Imagine putting the parson’s noose around your neck,” Quinn continued, “because of a single flourish in the bushes. I would rather step my foot in a rat-catcher’s trap and chew my own leg off.”
Matthew chuckled, glad he was not of a similar mind. In fact, he was looking forward, albeit nervously, to meeting with Lord Diamond in the morning.
“I intend to marry Lady Purity,” he said steadily, wanting to say it aloud.
“What?” Quinn roared, but he spoke with mirth. “That’s wonderful. A damn fine match. I didn’t think you had it in you to win that particular lady.”
Matthew declined to mention being discovered or how that was influencing the timing of his proposal.
“We have come to know and admire one another.”
“Then I regret any remark I made about her being a Mrs. Princum-Prancum. Firstly, I would never disparage my good friend’s wife, and secondly, if you are set on marrying her, then she must be a rum mort and no mistake.”
“She is.” Matthew was glad to know Quinn was genuinely pleased. His friend even raised his glass to toast Lady Purity’s health. And then he went further.
“I propose we have supper at—”
“Not Dolly’s Chop House,” Matthew interrupted. “The food is all right, but you only go for the waitresses.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” his friend demanded.
Matthew stared him down
“As you like,” Quinn said at last. “A finer meal to celebrate the end of the Bachelor Baron. The Café de l'Europe, perhaps? Or the Albion? I’ll round up a few others. Franklin, for one, and Pearson and Dyer. Yes?”
Matthew nodded. “I look forward to it.”
