Page 11 of A Virgin for the Ton’s Wolf (Ton’s Wolves #4)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

S carlett felt her heart sink slowly to the pit of her stomach.

She had been so certain that the Wolf would veto the idea of holding a ball , of all things, right in his den. Nobody had seen the interior of Wolverton Estate ever since he inherited the title, and she had no doubt he vastly preferred it this way. As much as she adored the chatter and constant adoration that suitors heaped on her, she had begun to appreciate her solitude as well.

After all, it was hardly comfortable to entertain with the kind of thoughts currently running through her mind.

Warmth spread across her cheeks as she remembered the way he held her in the lodge, his bold touch and the unspeakable things he whispered in her ear. Her toes curled at the thought, and she realized with horror that she might never look at tables and chairs the same way again.

Not without him whispering in her ear all the creative ways he could use them. With her .

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 a man . 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 mean exasperation .

“Ah… well, good to see you, too, Phoebe,” she managed to stammer out. Then, she peered at her. “You are Phoebe, 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.”

Phoebe flushed a vivid shade of crimson and glared at her husband, who only laughed and lovingly pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I should go see where that old Wolf is lurking. With Lady Diana planning a ball, he must be apoplectic with rage.”

“Oh, he must be in his study or his tower,” Scarlett told the Duke.

“He is, is he not?” Ethan grinned, before bounding towards the stairs in long, easy strides.

Scarlett shook her head. “I still cannot believe you are married to the Duke of Sin.”

Phoebe turned towards her with an arched eyebrow. “And I still cannot believe what you have done! The Wolf himself—Scarlett, have you no shred of fear?”

“Shh!” Scarlett hissed, her eyes darting towards the door. “The Dowager Duchess is expecting the arrival of more guests. Perhaps we should take this conversation somewhere more private. The library, perhaps?”

Phoebe nodded. “You seem to know your way around the manor quite well now.”

Scarlett just shrugged and set Snowdrop down on the floor. The enamored puppy had no problem trotting enthusiastically by her side.

“There is hardly anyone to talk to.” She pushed the doors to the library open. “Other than Mama and Her Grace, of course. But right now, they are too busy with planning the ball. The Dowager Duchess insists on finding me a suitable match before the weekend is over.”

“Oh.” Phoebe pursed her lips. “What about the Marquess of Colton? Rumor has it that you are already betrothed to the man.”

“And I would like it to remain that—a rumor,” Scarlett told her friend firmly. “Even better if I can persuade him to withdraw his suit, which he should be doing after everything that happened.”

The blonde looked at her with narrowed eyes. “You still have not told me how you ended up in Wolverton Estate as the most honored guest of the Dowager Duchess. Scarlett, Her Grace has not entertained anyone for years, and now she is holding a ball. In your honor. To find you a husband .”

Phoebe had always had a penchant for the dramatic.

“I know, the poor dear,” Scarlett sighed. “Her son is determined to live the life of a recluse, and she is shuttered along with him.”

“Perhaps she is looking for a wife for him.”

Because misery loves company, that’s why.

“Every dowager is in search of spouses for her children. It is their favorite pastime, I’m afraid.” Scarlett led her friend to a plush sofa and sat down. “After she has married me off, Mama will no doubt move on to Alexander.”

Phoebe rolled her eyes—yet another sign of her husband’s influence. “Do tell me all about it. Papa lives, and yet Mama was the same with me and Alice. It is an affliction of all mothers, I should think.” She patted Scarlett’s hands. “So, do tell me how you ended up here. Ethan tells me that the Wolf is going to marry you.”

“That is not going to happen. Ever.”

“Yes, but Ethan tells me that the Duke is an honorable man at heart, and if he had ruined you, he’d take responsibility. If Ethan was not my husband, I would have hardly believed that this story had even an ounce of truth in it. So, what really happened?"

If she had not been one of the main characters of that particular play, Scarlett would have hardly believed it herself. No one was foolish enough to cross the Duke of Wolverton.

Except her mama.

And her.

She sighed and pursed her lips. “It was one tiny, little lie. So outrageous that nobody would have believed it.”

Phoebe regarded her with a raised eyebrow. “And what was this tiny, little lie that was so outrageous it could not possibly have been that tiny?”

Scarlett smiled sheepishly at her friend. “Well, when you put it that way…”

“Scarlett!”

“All right, all right!” She put her hands up in surrender. “I told Mama and Alexander that I could not possibly marry the Marquess of Colton because I had already been kissed by the Wolf himself.”

“Dear saints above!” Phoebe gasped. “Ethan was right—you are out of your mind!”

“I never thought that Mama would actually storm into Wolverton Estate, demanding the Wolf himself take responsibility!” Scarlett cried out in protest. “I mean, we are talking about the Wolf , for goodness’ sake!”

The Wolf. The Devil Incarnate. Defiler of Innocents. Ravager of Womanhood and All Things Besides.

The blonde pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes with a pained expression. “Clearly, you underestimated the sheer force of a mama’s will. My own mother was a force of nature when it came to my and Alice’s marriage. Have you learned nothing?”

“The Marchioness of Brandon is different.”

Indeed, when Alice made her bow, the Marchioness of Brandon had made it known to the whole ton that she desired nothing more than to see her daughters married well and that she would spare no effort on securing their matches.

Scarlett’s Mama had been different. For most of her life, she had lived under the shadow of her husband, and when he passed, she ceded all decisions to her son. Who would have thought that she could summon the force of a rampaging hurricane and unleash it on the wrong person ?

“Well, what do you intend to do about it, now?” Phoebe asked.

Scarlett made a face. “For all my efforts, it has only gained me a week . No doubt Mama will find someone even worse than the Marquess of Colton to marry me off to, now that she thinks I have been ruined.”

“Oh, Scarlett.” Her friend’s face was the very picture of compassion and kindness. “But still, you really should not have lied, and about someone like Hudson, at that.”

“Hudson?”

The name rolled off her tongue like a piece of the most decadent chocolate, sending sparks skittering down to her toes and fingertips. She remembered the exact moment she had used his Christian name. And she didn’t want to think about that at all.

Apparently, her friend misunderstood her surprise.

“The Duke of Wolverton. That is his name. Really, Scarlett.” Phoebe rolled her eyes. “You should have learned the man’s name before going off and accusing him of ruining you.”

“There is no need to repeat yourself endlessly, Phoebe. I regret it already.” Scarlett wrinkled her nose, not wanting to reveal to Phoebe the circumstances under which she had called his name. “For one thing, he has the temper of a bull who has been poked one too many times.”

“Need I remind you that you were the one poking this particular bull?”

“And another thing,” she continued, speaking over her friend. “He’s too demanding. Extremely so.”

“So, the man knows what he wants. Can you really fault him for that?” Phoebe shrugged delicately. “And I recall that you have a particular dislike for men who cannot make up their minds.”

Well, there was no falsehood in that. Scarlett hated indecisiveness in men. But did that mean she liked someone who ordered her around all day?

And he would. Hudson. The Wolf.

“I know you do not like taking orders from anyone, but you will take them from me, My Lady—and more.”

Scarlett fanned herself. How did the room grow so hot all of a sudden?

“Are you all right?” Phoebe asked her in concern. “You seem a bit… flushed.”

Indeed, Scarlett was. No thanks to a certain Wolf and her overly rampant imagination.

Tables and chairs—oh, heavens! The man had turned her into just as much of a debauchee as he was!

“I… I think I should rest,” she stammered, pressing her fingers to her temple. “I had been caught out in the rain, you see.”

Her friend did not look too convinced, but Scarlett had had a great deal of practice in feigning headaches and illnesses.

“Oh dear,” Phoebe sighed. “You should go and rest, while I have tea and scones with the Dowager Duchess and your mama. Wolverton does have the best scones in all of London.”

Scarlett gave her best imitation of a feeble smile as she saw her friend out of the library.

With Phoebe out of earshot, she sighed and looked at the puppy at her feet. Snowdrop simply tilted his head to the side as he gazed adoringly up at her.

“Now, I am lying even to my friends,” she murmured.

Snowdrop simply yipped and tugged at her skirt with his teeth. Scarlett sighed and picked him up.

“I must be going mad, Snow,” she sighed as they headed up the stairs to her bedchamber. “That has to be the only explanation for these wayward thoughts.”

That, or the Wolf had to be the devil himself, weaving sensual enchantments over her with his words.

Tables and chairs, indeed!

Still, she could not help the sudden warmth that suffused her chest and cheeks at the thought. She had only the vaguest idea of what it meant, but her increasingly depraved mind filled in the gaping holes quite imaginatively.

No!

Scarlett set her foot down viciously on that particular image.

She was not going to be felled by a few scintillating images courtesy of one of the worst rogues in Society! She was going to gather her wits, wear her brightest smile, and come out the victor in… whatever it was she was currently locked in with the Duke.

Even if he was proving to be the toughest, most insurmountable, most devastating creature in all of London.