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She took out a folded piece of paper she had tucked into her glove earlier. It had lost the crispness it possessed when she first wrote it by the light of a candle, pouring onto it the deepest, darkest desires of her heart.

Desires that she could never divulge to anyone, save for one man.

Hudson.

She smiled a little when she saw the first item on her list.

Kiss a man.

She had been so young, back then. Giddy with the thought of finding a love match in a sea of people all looking for a transactional marriage.

In the end, shehadbeen kissed by a man—and not just a disappointing kiss in the bushes at that. Atruekiss that made her toes curl and upended her entire world.

2. Have a lover touch me intimately.

He did that to her, too. Twice. And opened her eyes to a pleasure she had not even thought possible.

She had added that to her list after hearing the married ladies talk about it when they thought she was not listening. She had learned then that a husband’s touch was not the same as a lover’s.

That a lover’s touch could be so much more pleasurable.

Now, she knew better—Hudson was superior in every aspect.

There were several more items on her list, but none of them mattered now. Not when Hudson wanted a white marriage. Not when her husband did not intend to touch her.

Nor did he want her to find a lover of her own.

She bit back the few choice words she had reserved for the scoundrel she was about to marry and tossed the list into the fire. There was no point in crying over it now. She had made her decision, and she was going to face its consequences, whatever they may be.

She stood up and rushed to the door to find Phoebe on the other side, her hand poised to knock.

“There you are,” Phoebe breathed. Her eyes surveyed Scarlett as if searching for some mysterious ailment. “Listen. If you are afraid of the Wolf, I can?—”

Her sentence was cut off when Scarlett suddenly hugged her. Phoebe seemed to stiffen before she returned the hug.

“Thank you, Phoebe, but I have to refuse,” Scarlett said, smiling brightly at her friend. “And I am not afraid of the Wolf—I am even contemplating kicking him in the shins if he insists on being a blockhead.”

Phoebe smiled and heaved a sigh of relief. “Well then, you just may be the perfect bride for him because I have never met a man who deserves his shins being battered more than your husband-to-be.”

Scarlett shook her head. “It’s not like I have any other choice, is it?”

Phoebe smiled at her. “You always have a choice,” she told her and jauntily linked their arms. “And we will always have your back, whatever it may be.”

Scarlett smiled, her heart feeling lighter at her friend’s words. Her husband-to-be might cause her more apprehension than alosing hand would to a dandy up to his ears in debt, but she had the best friends a woman could ask for.

As they stepped through the door, she lifted her chin.

I am ready.

The Dukes of Wolverton wereneveranxious—they were merely impatient. Irritated.Infuriated.

So, naturally, Hudson would follow in the footsteps of his illustrious ancestors and calmly await the arrival of his bride.

When the hour of the wedding came, he was expectant. Five minutes later, he was getting impatient. Fifteen minutes in, he was irritated.