“No! I’ve not lain with a man ever!” Mairi’s face was hot, and her hands clenched.
“And a doctor would verify such a thing?”
Mairi recoiled. “They can do that?”
“Some claim so. We can find one to bribe if need be—”
“No! I have never been with a man.” She all but shouted the words.
The countess took a deep breath and released it, satisfaction in her expression. “Good. Now how much—exactly—is your dowry?”
There was nothing she could say to that. Not a single word. It had been hard enough to defend her virginity, but this… She looked down at her hands.
“It’s all gone, isn’t it?” the countess asked. “It was in your bag?”
Mairi nodded miserably. “I had enough. I had a good dowry, but—”
“Yes, yes. At least you managed to save that one necklace. I’ve already had it converted in my account. It will pay for dresses and my fee, but it won’t go any further than that.”
The words were like knives in her heart. What was she going to do?
“Don’t worry. That’s enough to get us started this Season, but you’ll have to make some serious decisions right now.”
“What kind of decisions?”
“You can’t marry for love. It will need to be for money. There are several gentlemen possessed of an acceptable fortune who want a young bride. Widowers, mostly, or men who…” Her voice trailed away as she finished off the rest of her brandy. “They’ve got unusual appetites. If you are amenable to—”
“No. Absolutely not.”
The lady narrowed her eyes. “Virgins don’t usually know what I’m referring to.”
“I’ve been chatelaine to the MacCleal clan for nearly a decade. That means I controlled the laird’s men by being meaner and faster than any of them. I know about men’s appetites.”
“Do you? Truly?”
Mairi blushed. “I know about some of them, and I’ve heard whispers about others.”
“Your father should have protected you better.”
“My father kept me from being one of their appetites.”
The woman pursed her lips. “Is that who taught you to punch?”
No, that had been Connall. He knew that the men were interested in her before anyone else, and he taught her to defend herself from everyone but him.
“It wasn’t your father?” the lady pressed.
“I learned some from him, some from others.” Mairi took refuge in her brandy rather than say more.
“Hmmm,” the lady said as she watched Mairi drink. “Well, I suppose it’s enough that you did learn. Now tell me why you won’t marry a duke.”
She should have expected that question. After all, everyone back home thought she was daft for not choosing the future Aberbeag laird. It mattered less in Scotland that he was a duke, but it still mattered. And the countess probably thought she was completely daft for showing Connall the door.
“Is he poor?”
Mairi shook his head.
“Deviant?”