Page 1 of A Virgin for the Ton’s Wolf (Ton’s Wolves #4)

CHAPTER ONE

“ A pologies, My Lord, but I never agreed to any of this!”

Contained rage was never Scarlett’s area of expertise. No. Explosive, earth-scorching fury was more in her character. However, faced with the catastrophe before her, she could only feel a soul-numbing coldness sweeping over her entire being.

“Scarlett, be reasonable?—“

“Mother, enough.” Her brother’s exasperation cut through their mother’s protestations like a hot knife through a block of butter.

Her gaze shot over to her older brother.

He was now the Earl of Southford. By all rights, he was the one who was now responsible for both Scarlett and her mother. If he so wished, he could have her married off within the fortnight, their mama packed off to some dower house to live off the rest of her life. Society had given him that power, as it did to all other men.

In the past, Alexander had always doted on her, letting her have her way where other brothers might not have been so lenient. She had not expected him to be just the same as everyone else.

Her mama immediately shut her mouth with merely two words from Alexander. Scarlett lifted her chin defiantly at him even as she inwardly bristled with cold rage.

“You have had many chances to pick a match of your own choosing,” he told her flatly. His eyes were a steely blue as he leveled her with a gaze that might have had lesser men balking.

But Scarlett was not a lesser man. She was his sister .

“Years, Scarlett—you have had five years,” he continued his tirade. “And instead of choosing to use your time wisely, you gallivanted all over London, courting scandal and worse with your behavior. You have run out of time, my dear sister. This time, I will do the choosing for you.”

Over my cold, rotting corpse you will! Scarlett wanted to scream. She took a breath to do exactly that.

Her mama looked at her sadly. “You are not getting any younger, Scarlett.”

Oh, how much Scarlett hated that particular sentiment. That her youth was the best of her life. That the time when a woman was most alive should be spent in the pursuit of a husband who would only undermine her at every turn.

“Mama is right.” Alexander tapped his finger on the smooth, polished oak surface of the table—a clear sign of his agitation. “We have tolerated your tricks for far too long, letting you run wild all over the city. Your frivolity ends now. You are getting married, and that is final.”

Scarlett narrowed her eyes at her brother.

No. Nothing was ever final unless they could manage to drag her to the altar and force her to speak her vows.

She turned towards her mama, who had gone pale and silent.

The Dowager Countess of Southford had once been young like her. She had been full of dreams and life. Now, she seemed like a mere ghost of what she once might have been.

A foreshadowing of a future Scarlett did not want for herself.

Her mother’s red hair was a more muted shade than her own vibrant locks, her eyes a subdued color between blue and gray. She was the picture of a perfect aristocrat, with her neatly coiffed hair and very fine but very proper gray attire.

Scarlett inwardly scoffed at her mother’s choice.

The mourning period had long since passed, but it seemed as if her mother was still frozen in time, caught in the clutches of a man who had long been buried.

And then her gaze swiveled to the fourth occupant of the room, who seemed to be looking on the entire affair with a hint of amusement tilting his lips. Long, elegant fingers drummed over the smooth, polished oak surface, the cup of tea now grown cold.

George Miller, the fifth Marquess of Colton, and the man her dear, addled brother intended for her to marry.

Any other man might have been horrified to have to bear witness to such a debacle, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. Scarlett might even go as far as to say that he seemed to revel in the chaos. When his icy blue eyes locked onto hers, she felt a sudden chill sweep over her.

She lifted her chin, staring back at him in defiance. She would not quail, would not falter before him.

“Perhaps I might have a word with the Marquess,” she suggested icily. “After all, this conversation does not only involve myself.”

His response was to smile only wider as he surveyed her from head to foot as if he were appraising horseflesh . Right in front of her family.

Unbelievable.

A most terribly odious person, if she ever saw one. And she was supposed to marry him? Tie the rest of her life to him? Alexander had to have been drinking when he conceived the brilliant idea that they would make a fine match.

Scarlett would much rather hang herself with the drapery cord than wed the Marquess of Colton.

“There is no need for that, My dear Lady.” The Marquess rose from his plush seat. “I shall make all the necessary arrangements. No need to fret at all.”

Her mama shot her a look as if to say, “See? He is a nice man, after all.”

Scarlett was fairly certain that the Marquess possessed scales underneath his human skin. The man somehow just slithered over to her, putting himself right up to her face without so much as a warning. Even his smile made her want to bolt.

“All my darling betrothed needs to do is be there for the wedding.” His cold blue gaze narrowed on her as he gripped her wrist a little too tightly.

“Unhand me, My Lord,” she told him through gritted teeth.

But he did not seem to pay her any heed at all.

“You are hurting me.”

Still, the Marquess of Colton did not relax his grip, only grinned ever wider as he stooped and looked at her a little more closely. “You will not embarrass me, will you, my sweet?”

Sweet? She would give him so much sweetness he would drown in it!

She smiled back up at him. “Your embarrassment will only be compounded if you continue this ludicrous pursuit, My Lord.”

There. She saw it—the weak point in his scaly, snakey armor.

His gaze flickered. His grip on her relaxed the slightest bit.

And Scarlett went in for the blow that she hoped would finally knock him back.

“I am no longer pure.”

A stunned silence fell over the room, and the Marquess immediately dropped her wrist as if she had scalded him. Scarlett rubbed the tender flesh with a triumphant smile.

“What?” Her mama’s gasp sounded much louder than it truly was. “Scarlett!”

I am so sorry, Mama, but I must do this.

She shook her head and smiled sadly at her mother. “It is true, Mama.”

Alexander closed his eyes and groaned, “Oh, dear God in heaven!”

At this point, Scarlett was confident she was the only woman in the whole of London to gleefully admit to her scandalous behavior. If ruination was what it took to shake the slithering Marquess of Colton off her tracks—and her wrists—then she would embrace the reputation of a soiled woman most fervently.

“I… I kissed someone,” she admitted hoarsely. She added in an embarrassed look for good measure. No harm in further fueling her disgrace.

The Dowager Countess looked as if she might faint right there on the expensive carpet as she swayed on her feet. She had gone visibly pale as she looked at her daughter with wide, frightened eyes.

“W-When?” she stammered. “W-Who?”

Scarlett took a deep breath and prayed to the high heavens that this falsehood would prove to be her saving grace in this rather dire situation.

“The house party at Fitzroy Park. There was a treasure hunt, you see, and…” she trailed off dramatically and raised teary eyes to her mother.

When her mama’s eyes widened even more, Scarlett knew that her mother had connected the dots. Added two and two to make four.

If her declaration had been the spark, and the admission of the details became the kindling, now it was time to fan the flames. With luck, she’d make sure this whole scandal grow into a conflagration wild enough to keep the Marquess in eternal disgust and, hopefully, away from presumptuous thoughts of matrimonial bliss with her.

“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 had really kissed 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 at her 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 their offspring. 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.