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Chapter Five
Charity woke a few hours after her madcap adventure, bereft by her dreams. While she had not thought herself attracted to Lord Ralston, she had always been captivated by his quiet power, and the inherent pride stamped on his features. She had even often thought of him as a cold, distant man incapable of humor, warmth, and passion. Yet inexplicably, she had dreamed about the earl. It had started out innocently enough, his soft mouth against hers in a shadowed library, but then it had morphed to her being the lady on the desk and the earl on his knees before her, his tongue against her mons. The wild heated sensation felt in her dreams; she had never before experienced. Was this the pleasure that had made the viscount’s companion scream? Would she too scream if the earl touched his tongue between her thighs?
Charity’s entire body blushed, and she released a gusty sigh. “I should never have looked at those erotic pictures with Prue.” None of the images had made much of a scintillating impact on when she and her friends had looked at some erotic literature for Prue to use to seduce her husband. Yet at least two had played a key role in her dreams last night, and she squeezed her eyes to recall the provocative pictures of the earl kissing her naked body.
“Why?” she whispered to the ceiling. “I do not even like him.” How would she ever face the man again without flushing like a ninny?
Pushing from the bed, she rang for her maid, who assisted her with a bath. After toweling off, she donned a tight-waisted blue day dress. Some curls were added to her fashionably styled hair, lending soft elegance to her features. Leaning close to the cheval mirror, Charity counted the dusk of freckles on the bridge of her nose and cheek. “There really are thirteen.”
“Would you like to do the rice water treatment today, my lady?” her maid asked.
“Not today,” Charity responded. “I am famished, and I need to pay an urgent call on a friend.”
Her toilette completed, she hurried down the stairs and made her way to the informal dining room, where the family broke their fast. Her brother, Thomas the Earl of Bonham, and his countess were already seated. They were a lovely couple, Louisa with her light blonde hair and pale blue eyes, wearing this morning a cream gown embellished with ribbons chosen to match her eyes. Thomas was a perfect and handsome contrast with his black hair and hazel eyes and looked a perfect fashion plate in his dark grey jacket and paler grey waistcoat. They sat on opposite ends of a table that could seat sixteen, maintaining this unnecessary formality in the intimacy of their home.
Her brother drank coffee and read from a freshly pressed newssheet, and Louisa slathered strawberry preserves onto thinly sliced toast. She had always loved this room, with its bright aspect and delicate décor. Louisa tended to collect curios from unusual climes which she had strewn around the free surfaces. It was a little cluttered, but that made the large room feel more comfortable.
“Good morning,” Charity said brightly, heading to the sideboard of warmed dishes and placed some coddled eggs, thinly sliced ham, buttered toast, and kippers on her plate. Taking a seat closer to the countess, Charity belatedly realized they stared at her with varying expressions of disappointment.
Oh, dear. “Whatever is the matter?” she asked, taking a bite of her toast.
Her brother replied brusquely, his words almost tripping over themselves with his ire. Charity stared at Thomas as if he had grown two heads. “I beg your pardon?”
“I believe you heard me,” he said, taking another sip of his coffee.
“You wrote Lord Newsome this morning informing him that I am amenable to his courtship?” An incredulous laugh escaped her before she quickly caught it. “I have only met Lord Newsome twice. What possessed you to act in such haste and without speaking with me first, Thomas?”
He lowered his cup, his expression darkening. “I trust that is all you are concentrating on from all that I said?”
She waved a hand in dismissal, her heart squeezing. “The rest is of little consequence.”
In an uncharacteristic show of temper, Louisa slapped her hand onto the surface of the table, rattling some of the silverware. “Charity! You were seen sneaking into the house this morning at three a.m. Dressed in…in God knows what!”
“It was a disguise,” she said, trying not to show her distress that the housekeeper had indeed tattled. She hadn’t taken the risk to change back into her ballgown but had simply stuffed her clothes into a small valise and traipsed home still dressed in her boy’s breeches and shirt. After encountering Mrs. Mayberry in the kitchen, Charity had begged her discretion. Little good that had done. “Only Mrs. Mayberry saw me. I assure you there is no risk of any scandal.”
The countess shook her head as if she spoke to a hopeless case. “And you wonder why your brother has written to Lord Newsome? Servants are wanton gossips!”
“Not Mrs. Mayberry,” Charity said staunchly.
Louisa’s lips pinched. “Only marriage will calm this wild and reckless temperament of yours.”
Charity’s fingers tightened over the fork as her heart began to ache. “I will not be persuaded against my wishes; why do you even bother?”
Thomas’s brows furrowed. “You are five and twenty. It is time for you to marry and manage your own household. As Louisa aptly said, marriage and children will settle you down.”
“How utterly boorish and condescending, brother. I do not wish to marry at this moment, nor do I need settling down.”
“You do not have a choice,” her brother said.
Charity ate some eggs and another piece of toast before calmly replying. “I am of age to decide my own life, Thomas.”
“You might be of age; however, your inheritance is in my control until you are thirty. Until then, you, my dear, are penniless. I am also of a mind to suspend your allowance.”
“You are acting like an ogre,” Charity said tightly. “There is no need for me to marry, so why are you this insistent?”
“To turn down the viscount is beyond all understanding, Charity.”
“Not mine,” she said. “We do not suit.”
