“Diamond and I have had a fine marriage,” her mother said, sounding hurt. “As have your grandparents.”
Purity threw her arms around her. “I apologize. Truly, I do. I will ask you or Father if I need help, but I would rather deal with Foxford on my own terms. I should start the marriage the way I intend to go on with it.”
They stayed hugging a moment longer. Then her mother nodded.
“That’s my girl. I raised you to be able to handle even the wiliest of foxes. Besides, if you love him, then I believe he must be a good man.”
Purity cocked her head at her mother’s assumption.
“Deep down,” Lady Diamond added.
Purity raised her eyebrows.
“Very deep down,” her mother persisted.
Purity sighed. “Please stop. Any deeper and it will be only his marrow that is good.”
They both laughed.
“Now, Mother, tell me all about the ceremony at Gretna Green.”
Finishing his correspondence, Matthew rose from his desk ready to go for a ride in the park, exercising both himself and his horse. Before he could stretch and grab his coat, his butler knocked and brought in an unexpected calling card.
Lady Varley’s card was crisp with perfectly printed letters and drenched in patchouli leaf perfume. All at once, upon sniffing the scent, their entire brief, intense affair came to mind.
He’d met Emilia at a dinner party, thrown by Quinn’s aunt, and noticed the lovely fair-haired female as soon as he’d entered because of the immodest cut of her gown. She was lively and pretty in a made-up, fashionable way, using the latest tools of artifice to great effect on her lips, cheeks, and eyes. Although the other bucks were circling her, it was Matthew who had the good fortune to be seated beside her at dinner.
As was his usual manner, he had set himself to charming her. In return, she was all over him before the pudding course, with her hand finding its way to his lap. About three years older than he, she clearly knew her way around the bedroom and was ready for a romp.
Emilia was his favorite kind of lover — he didn’t have to pay her to pretend a great hour of passion, nor was she a simpering virgin who would cry the loss of her innocence when she understood he was not going to proffer his name in marriage after the deed was done.
When the dinner party ended and he strolled out into the night, Emilia’s carriage awaited him a few houses farther along Cavendish Square with the shades down. Upon climbing in, they had a decision to make, his home or hers. Back at her townhouse, she practically raced him upstairs and declared she had no expectations beyond that night.
She had lied.
The earthy fragrance wafting from her calling card also brought her naked body to mind. After a fortnight of fornication, he had found out she wanted the respectability of marriage, a goal denied her previously due to some sad story he hadn’t listened to. He should have been more attentive. Suddenly, she wanted him to fill another man’s shoes in the church when allhe’d wanted was to fill her with his stiff arousal before moving on.
Realizing what she was about, he’d told her they were finished. They were ill-suited because of her mean-spirited outlook and her often small-minded remarks — neither of which he mentioned. Instead, he reminded her he was going to France and might be away for years.Hadn’t she remembered him telling her?
Her rage was neither glorious nor beautiful. It was ugly and unnerving. She accused him of tricking her and stealing her innocence, neither of which was true. Besides, he’d never told her how her perfume sometimes brought to mind overly ripe apples, the musty smell of a used wine cork, or even mildew.
And then, while he was on the Continent, she’d hooked Varley somehow.Thank God!No wonder the man had shouldered him aside at their club. He probably wished Matthew had married her, so he hadn’t.
What did the chit want now?
There was only one way to find out, although he wondered at his own utter disinterest. Still, he owed it to her not to turn her away without hearing her out. After all, a gentleman ought to show some respect to a former lover.
Striding into his drawing room where his butler had allowed her to wait, Emilia’s intentions were already clear. Without invitation, she had not only taken a seat but was reclining upon his sofa with her feet up at one end.
When he came to a halt in the middle of the room, she leaned back comfortably and unpinned her hat before tossing it to the floor.
And then, ever so slowly, eyeing him the entire time, Emilia peeled off her gloves.
He swallowed, staring silently at her bare hands.
Matthew waited for the usual arousal to send him winging to her side, yet it never came. Instead of an insatiable hunger and the flash-fire of desire, he felt only annoyance. She might as well have been a sack of potatoes lounging upon his divan.
Moreover, if he examined the moment carefully, he would concede it was Purity who had made the difference in him. Countless encounters with females like Emilia had not made a dent in his loneliness, nor filled up the empty space inside him for longer than it took to get dressed afterward.
