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“That is why I have been loath to accept proposals from all these kind gentlemen,” she admitted woefully, wringing her hands in the very picture of despair. “However frivolous Alexander claims I am, I respect these gentlemen too much.”

And if the Duke of Wolverton hadreallykissed her, she had no doubt that she would be ruined for all men henceforth. That time in the sitting room, when she thought he was about to do it, had been so deeply seared in her mind that it took a few good turns at the Park after to clear her mind of such heated thoughts.

And even then, she still thought of it at odd times when she was alone. Or in bed.

Her thoughts alone should make her an unfit wife for anybody else.

But her mama, pale and swaying on her feet as she was, chose that particular time to finally rally her strength as she looked ather with a fierceness in her gaze both she and Alexander had rarely seen before.

“I am going to need a name, daughter,” her mama told her stonily.

Scarlett sighed and looked at her mother pleadingly. While it was a pleasant surprise to find her mama in fighting form, she had no doubt that the name she was going to divulge would cause her to wilt.

Maybe even wither up in despair.

Hopefully, so would their persistence in seeing her wed.

His blood still pounding in his ears, Hudson washed his bloodied hands in the basin of warm water, before methodically reaching for the pristine towel that sat beside it. His knuckles were going to be raw and red for quite some time, and he smirked a little at that.

Gently bred young ladies would not appreciate such a brutal, barbaric sight. Neither would his mother, who insisted on foisting such ladies on him on the odd occasion.

For some reason, dowagers just seemed to take particular delight in meddling with the matrimonial affairs of theiroffspring. Or in the case of his friend, Colin, their grandchildren as well.

He raised his knuckles to the light that streamed through the window, pleased with his handiwork, when a polite knock interrupted his thoughts.

“What is it, dammit?”

Duke or not, he was just as free with his profanity as he had been when he left London for the war. He did not see fit to change certain habits just because he had unexpectedly inherited a title.

“Apologies, Your Grace,” the timid voice of a servant spoke to him from just outside the door. “But there are two ladies to see you.”

Hudson glowered at that. Two ladies? He had not been expecting any visitors, and his mother had made no mention of such a thing.

Or had she resorted to willfully ‘forgetting’ to inform him of these guests?

It would seem that he would have to use his freshly abraded knuckles to ward two ladies off ever darkening his doorstep again.

CHAPTER TWO

Hudson did not bother to wrap his raw, scraped knuckles. No, he pushed his sleeves up his forearms to make sure they were in full view of the poor, miserable fools who dared to search him out.

One would think that acquiring the title of a duke would afford him a modicum of respect and privacy. In his first month alone, with the family inmourning, he’d suffered through a deluge of cards and condolences and young women eager to throw themselves at him.

Or at the prospect of becoming a duchess, rather.

Self-respect paled in the face of ambition, it would seem. In the battle for a good and titled match, these tender young maidens were much more feral than wild animals themselves.

And to think they calledhima Wolf. Fools, every single one of them.

“Your Grace.” The butler bowed to him as he swept into the parlor like an angry hurricane.

The two ladies enjoying his tea immediately stood up—a sight that nearly had him balking at the door.

It washer.

The damned woman who had riled him up at the house party in Fitzroy Park as if he was a bloody wind-up toy.

For that morning, however, she had chosen a much more sedate palette for her frock—a muted violet shade that resembled that of a choking man whose air supply had been cut off. Or a gangrenous limb that most certainly required amputation.