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Dear God in heaven, since when have I become so depraved?

A soft whine, followed by an indignant tug at her skirts, jolted her attention back to the bundle of white fur at her feet. Snowdrop looked up at her expectantly with his dark brown eyes.

Puppies had a way of burying themselves into the soul with just a single look, and right now she considered her soul stolen away.

“I apologize for being so distracted, dear one,” she sighed, pulling him into her embrace. “It is all the fault of that mean Duke, you see…”

Snowdrop wiggled in her arms and nipped her sleeve, which had her regarding him with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“So, you disagree?”

An exuberant yip.

She sighed. “I should have known you would take his side. Men always cover up for other men. Women do, too, most unfortunately.”

Over the past few days, she had learned a great deal more about her mama. Their frequent conversations with the Dowager Duchess had shown her a side of her mother that she had only ever caught brief glimpses of growing up—that of a spirited woman who embraced life and all its joys unabashedly.

The kind of woman Scarlett wished she could be, unfettered by the expectations of Society.

To think that her mother had changed so much, all because she had been subdued by aman. Scarlett recoiled with a slight shudder, and Snowdrop let out a high-pitched bark in alarm.

“Oh dear, I am so sorry about that,” she cooed, cradling him closer and burying her nose into his soft, white fur. “I did not mean to startle you.”

Her reaction was not the only thing that startled the poor puppy, however. There was a slight commotion at the front door. Scarlett looked up just in time to see the Dowager Duchess bustling past her in visible excitement.

“Ah! My guests are already arriving!” she trilled happily.

Scarlett merely smiled as she turned back to the parlor with Snowdrop in her arms, when a flurry of pale rose silks and chiffon hurtled into view.

“Scarlett! What in God’s name were you thinking?!”

Scarlett blinked, taking in the undeniably feminine concoction topped off with sparkling, wide blue eyes and a pretty rosebud of a mouth twisted in an expression that could only meanexasperation.

“Ah… well, good to see you, too, Phoebe,” she managed to stammer out. Then, she peered at her. “YouarePhoebe, are you not?”

The woman greatly resembled her dear friend, but her choice of words definitely did not. Phoebe would never dare use such language—well, the Phoebe she used to know anyway.

She watched as the pretty Duchess flushed slightly and the sound of a man’s laughter drew near. Moments later, the Duke of Sinclair wrapped his arm around Phoebe possessively and drew her close.

“My fault, Lady Scarlett. I seem to have influenced my wife in more ways than one.”

He grinned affably at her, but his gaze visibly softened when he turned back to his wife.

“A ball in Wolverton Estate—can you believe that, my love? Lady Diana is beside herself with glee.”

“Her Grace,” Phoebe corrected him primly.

“She hates it when I get above myself and call everyone by their titles.”

Scarlett smiled at the couple before her. “Well then, she must be just about ready to get rid of us now, for we have been calling her ‘Your Grace’ and ‘Dowager Duchess’ ever since we arrived.”

“She’s probably thinking of how she can get you to call her M?—”

The Duke was cut off by a sharp elbow to his side, courtesy of his beloved wife. He gave her a wounded look, but when she kissed him, he brightened up immediately.

“I should let you hit me more often, darling.”

Scarlett rolled her eyes. “Not in the parlor, please. You can take it up to your suite if you want.”