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He heaved a deep sigh of frustration. “One would think a woman of your age would have learned to be more sensible than some young chit with romantic notions. Do not say the reason you are still unwed is that you have not found a gentleman whose soul connected with yours?”
She flushed at the mockery in her brother’s tone. “I believe I said that to you when I was eighteen.”
“Yes, and you’ve remained unmarried after taking part in several London seasons.”
“I am more of an observer gaily enjoying the parties. It has been clear I am not looking for a suitor.”
“I am led to believe, despite your advanced age, you are still a frightful romantic.”
“Far from it,” she said with a polite smile. “In truth, I am more pragmatic and realize that it is vastly important to only marry a man who understands me, and one I might hold an intelligent conversation with, a man who will not say that my love of inventions makes me a dead bore. If I was a silly romantic chit, as you said, only marrying a duke, marquess, or earl would do. It is the title that is romantic, you know, nothing else. I recall how much Louisa swooned at the thought of dancing with an earl…and being a countess.”
The countess gasped, and her brother glared at her.
“Charity! You go too far with that tongue of yours!”
The wretched fiend. He merely wanted to marry her off to control her behavior. She passionately resented him at this moment. How could he be so callous of her feelings? Charity had merely cut her hair to a style that suited her pointy chin and too wide mouth. And joined a ladies’ club. But he did not know that, so his burning desire to be rid of her profoundly hurt. “I have an important reason I am not willing to be courted by Lord Newsome.”
“I am eager to hear this excuse,” her brother said drily.
Charity took a deep breath. “He seems the proud and unforgivable sort. There is a rumor he beat his first wife. It is that reason she was in that carriage racing to Scotland when it crashed.”
Louisa gasped and Thomas sighed.
“Those rumors are baseless! I expected better of you, Charity.”
“You know we can never discount rumors in the ton. There is always some truth to it. Always.”
Her brother frowned. “What are you really saying, Charity?”
“I…I am…not chaste. Imagine that we should get married, and the viscount discovers it. I shudder at the thought.” At her brother’s aghast expression, she added, “I really have no wish to marry at the moment, Thomas, so you must always bear my chastity in mind when you are offering me up without consent.”
Her brother paled, his mouth opening and closing like that of a fish. “You will tell me the name of the man who dishonored you,” he said with lethal softness. “Now.”
She tossed her head. “I will do no such thing.”
“Charity—”
“I will not,” she insisted stubbornly and with some mischief. “It is my business only, but you can be assured I was not ravished. I was a most willing participant.”
Louisa stared at Charity with her mouth agape. “You truly go too far,” the countess said faintly.
Charity and her brother stared at each other for a few tense moments before a mocking laugh came from him.
“I fail to see the humor in the situation.”
“You are fibbing. Playing a game of chess with me, sister.”
Charity smiled icily at him. “Are you willing to risk my happiness and well-being on an incorrect guess on your part?”
“It can be verified.”
For a second, she was stymied. “What can be verified?”
“If you are still chaste or not.”
The absurdity of that stole her breath. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me,” he said with narrowed eyes, “and I believe you have left me with little choice. I will summon Dr. Bradford to examine you.”
