Page 57
Story: A Virgin for the Ton's Wolf
“Oh, I am so sorry, darling,” she apologized to the puppy blinking sleepily at her. “Did I wake you up?”
Another nose bump and the pain in her chest subsided just a little. She sighed and buried her head in her arms. She would need a lifetime of nose bumps to recover from that very humiliating letdown.
“At least no one else witnessed that,” she muttered despondently. “Heavens, but it was so embarrassing. I was practically throwing myself at him!”
Snowdrop huffed and laid down at her feet, his dark eyes looking up at her with great concern.
“I should have known you would be the only one who would love me unconditionally,” she sighed. “Even Mama’s affections now depend on whether I will be able to find a suitable match this weekend. And here I thought that a mother’s love was unconditional. It seems I was mistaken.”
As for her brother, he had sent word earlier that his dear friend, the Marquess, did not waver in his intent to marry her. Not even the slightest.
And then, there was Hudson. Her chest ached at the thought of him. Now, she was certain that he held no affection for her. None at all.
Not even the tiniest bit.
Whatever feelings she thought he had for her were nothing but figments of her imagination. Wishful thinking and fruitless fantasies.
The kind that had a woman doing the most reckless, harebrained things.
If she had any sense left in her at all, she would take him up on his offer of a carriage away from Wolverton Estate, pack up her things, and head for a far more tranquil life in the country. She would be a social pariah, yes, but she would have her peace of mind. She would never have to worry about ballgowns and dowagers and matches and contrarian dukes who made her entire body sing in ecstasy.
She would have none of that, but she would at least have her own self. Her freedom. And that was what truly mattered.
Except her mother and Alexander would never allow her to do that. Her mama had all but given her an ultimatum—find a husband at the ball that weekend or marry the Marquess.
“I cannot believe he still wants to marry me after what I said to him,” Scarlett grumbled.
Most gentlemen would have run for the hills if their soon-to-be fiancées declared themselves ruined by other men. The Marquess was more persistent than she gave him credit for—a trait that she could not find it in herself to appreciate.
There is nothing to appreciate in a man who manipulates a woman into marriage.
She did not even know much about him, aside from the fact that he was a friend of her brother’s and he had already schemed himself into an engagement. The man’s sneakiness was truly top-notch.
She sighed again. She seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.
Snowdrop nudged her hand again, and she gave him a sad smile. She did not even know if the Marquess liked dogs.
There was only one way out of this match made in hell. She would have to find another husband, and she had to do that at the ball that weekend. Her mama would never give her another chance.
“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Snowdrop,” she murmured. “And I cannot rely on the Wolf to help me out this time.” She grimaced. “He would be more likely to throw me out than offer a hand.”
This time, she would manage on her own, just as she had for most of her life.
Snowdrop yipped indignantly.
“All right,” she conceded. “This time, it would be just you and me, and so help me, Snowdrop, you had better not let me down.”She eyed the puppy sternly. “I’ve had enough men letting me down—you cannot be one of them.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Scarlett liked to think that she was doing quite well.
She went out for walks with Snowdrop in the mornings before breakfast. In the afternoons, she had tea with her mama, the Dowager Duchess, Phoebe, and the other female guests who had started trickling into Wolverton Estate.
In the evenings, she lay awake, alternating between contemplating the bleakness of the rest of her life or the feasibility of storming into the tower and making Hudson change his mind.
For two days, she had acted the part of the charismatic debutante, flitting between guests like the most dazzling of social butterflies. She could not even recall putting as much effort into her coming out.
Yes, she was doing exceptionally well, and except for the tiny dark circles under her eyes, she was certain nobody could tell. Absolutely certain.
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