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“No, Mama.”

Her mother looked fairly hysterical. “You are certain? This is the last time I am going to ask you, Scarlett, so heaven help me if you even think about lying?—”

“I am not an idiot!” Scarlett protested.

Her mama gave her a look that clearly told her what she thought of her intelligence when it came to finding a good match.

“There was no kiss,” Scarlett enunciated clearly. “Nothing of that sort. I was just talking to Phoebe about my desperate plan that brought us here.” She didn’t want to lie anymore, but she had to now if she wanted to get out of this situation. “And the Duke is right—we have overstayed our welcome. I wish to leave as soon as possible.”

Her mother let out a soft snort. “Well, we cannot leave now. Not when the Dowager Duchess is about to throw a grand ball just to help you find a good match.”

“I somehow doubt even she could do that.”

Lady Southford glared at her daughter. “The Dowager Duchess has been very kind, and you should be grateful.”

Oh, Scarlett was grateful. The ball bought her barely a week before she would be married off to that dreadful Marquess of Colton. If she wanted to avoid that man, then she had to find someone else during the ball.

But how was she going to do that when all she could think about was Hudson’s arms around her, his lips moving over hers in a seductive caress that had her spilling all that she had? How could she think about marrying another man when she still wanted to see just what wicked things he could do to her on those tables and chairs he mentioned?

“I understand, Mama, and I am grateful for her kindness. But,” she added, “perhaps we can head back to Southford, and then we can attend the ball. After all, we hardly brought any dresses and jewelry. How am I supposed to attract another suitor if I am dressed so shabbily?”

“Oh, sonowyou have considered that,” her mama huffed. “Well, I had dear Alexander send us your wardrobe and the box of jewelry. This is the first ball the Dowager Duchess has thrown in years. Of course, I will not have you dressed so poorly.”

“Oh.”

If her mother could order someone to fetch clothes and jewelry for them, why could they not go back? Why must she remain at Wolverton Estate for longer than necessary?

“If you want to leave so desperately, my dear, then it will have to be after the ball,” her mama told her firmly. “Otherwise, it would raise suspicions, and suspicions make tongues wag.”

Scarlett opened her mouth to make another token protest, but her mother had already swept out of the room, leaving her stunned in her wake. Her mama, who had never once raised her voice above the level of meekness, just walked out of the room.

She looked at Phoebe haplessly. “What do I do now?”

The blonde could only shrug. “Marry Wolverton?”

“Out of the question.”

“Then that leaves only one thing,” Phoebe sighed as she stood up and smoothed down her skirts. “You know your mama will never let this matter rest.”

Scarlett’s shoulders sagged. “I was afraid of that.”

Phoebe, however, was ever the soul of optimism. “Everything will work out fine in the end.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“If worse comes to worst, I suppose I can convince Ethan to speak more sense into his friend.”

“Now I am seriously doubting if you truly love your husband.”

Phoebe just laughed lightly. “Oh, I do—very much, in fact. And I have no doubt youwillfind your match in time, my dear.”

“Tell me where you are getting this much optimism,” Scarlett grumbled. “I should like to have some of it.”

But her friend simply shook her head with a smile and left her. To find her husband, no doubt. Hopefully, she would give up on the notion of convincing the Wolf to marry her.

If he did not want to, then Scarlett did not want it either.

Even if they kissed.