Page 32 of A Virgin for the Ton’s Wolf (Ton’s Wolves #4)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

S tanding in the parlor of Southford Estate, Hudson could not decide whether his new brother-in-law had the awareness of a toddler or was simply stupid.

“Do you mean to say,” he heard Scarlett speak through gritted teeth, “that Mama will not be coming to the opera with us, so you decided on your own that it would be a good idea to bring your best friend with you instead?”

He retracted his initial thoughts and settled on just one—Alexander Clarke, the Earl of Southford, was an out-and-out idiot .

“I thought it was a brilliant idea myself.” The Earl beamed. “What with all this nonsense talk about you, the Duke, and George…”

“You did not even think to consult me before you brought him here?” Scarlett hissed.

The man looked miffed. “I did not think that was necessary, dearest. You have known George since before you made your bow?—”

“But my husband did not!”

“—and I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to show the ton that there is no animosity between the three of you,” the Earl finished, completely oblivious to his sister’s flashing eyes. “Come now, surely you cannot argue with that.”

Hudson did not even know where to begin poking holes in the man’s logic. He quickly glanced sideways and knew that Scarlett could easily sink his argument in the next breath as well.

If the man had been anyone else other than his wife’s beloved brother, Hudson might have strongly considered throwing him into the Thames. Or at the very least, walking out and leaving him stranded in the parlor to make arrangements for his own transportation. The man was nearly three decades old, after all—surely, he could do that for himself.

Hudson could feel the frustration radiating from Scarlett in waves. He subtly reached out a finger to lightly stroke the back of her hand, feeling her stiffen slightly before she relaxed.

“While I would like to stand here and debate the merits of your idea”—he looked pointedly at the Earl—“we are, unfortunately, running late to the opera.”

Scarlett glanced at him with a slight frown as he took her hand and tucked it in the crook of his elbow. He regarded Alexander with a raised eyebrow. “You may follow us into the carriage or arrange for another one of your own—I do not care,” he told him. “Either way, my wife and I will be heading out now.”

“You were much easier on him than I would have been,” she remarked under her breath.

He smiled a little, his hand closing around hers before he could stop himself. “Would you rather I proceeded with my first option, then?” he asked.

“And what was your first option?”

Hudson had to remind himself to breathe when she looked up at him, laughter dancing in her bright blue eyes.

“I thought that your brother might fancy a nice evening swim at the Thames. I have it on good authority that such exercises are beneficial for the mind and the body.”

Her shoulders shook with barely restrained laughter, easing the tightness in his chest. It was the first time she had laughed with him since their marriage.

It was the one piece of effervescence he clung to on their way to the opera.

A more excruciating carriage ride had never been known to womankind than the one Scarlett currently found herself in. The carriage of the Duke of Wolverton was a behemoth of a vehicle, with plush velvet upholstery and more than enough space for a party. But squished between three, full-grown toddlers?

She soon found herself fighting to even breathe.

The moment the door closed behind all of them, the tension in the air became so thick that it was oppressive. All it would take was one wrong word— just one —and she feared she would be fighting to keep them all from leaping at each other’s throats.

Or throwing each other out of a moving vehicle.

And she had her dear brother to thank for the predicament she found herself in. Even she was tempted to throw him out of the carriage. If he could only keep his mouth shut for the rest of the ride, she would count it as a great blessing.

“So,” Alexander drawled, his gaze darting from Hudson to Scarlett. “How has married life been for you, Sister dear? Should we be expecting an heir soon?”

I spoke too soon!

Scarlett closed her eyes in mortification as she felt her husband stiffen beside her. The balmy air suddenly dropped to wintry levels.

She smiled tightly at him. “It is much too early for that, Alex.”

“Never too early, I would say,” her brother plowed on, heedless of the imminent danger he was in. “Mama’s been counting her grandchildren, I tell you. I, myself, look forward to bouncing a little niece or nephew on my knees—I am not particularly picky.”

Then go and make some babies yourself! Scarlett wanted to scream at him.

“Mama understands that these things take time,” she replied firmly.

“What better time than now?”

Her brother truly was fortunate that Hudson was holding her hand, or she would have pummeled him right then and there where he sat. The deep red velvet upholstery could mask the bloodstains, and even if it couldn’t, she was a duchess now! She could pay to reupholster the whole carriage.

“Calm down, Alexander,” a bored voice drawled. Lord Colton wore a slight smile on his face. “If it is a niece or nephew you want, then you will have to wait a bit longer for that.”

Her brother looked at his best friend in confusion. “What do you mean?” he asked, turning towards Scarlett. “Is there a prob?—”

“There is no problem,” she told him quickly, shooting Lord Colton a frosty look. He returned it with a warm smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

“Is there not?” he asked silkily. “Servants talk, Your Grace, and they have been saying the most… fascinating things. You should truly be mindful of how you act, even amongst those you know. Especially amongst those you know.”

Scarlett felt a coldness seep into her blood. She knew all too well how servants liked to talk. Knew that most gossip came from within the household. Just how much did Lord Colton know about her marriage?

“I fail to see how what my wife and I do in the privacy of our home is any of your business, Colton.” Hudson’s voice was low and dangerous. His flinty gaze bore down on the hapless Marquess.

Twin blotches appeared on Lord Colton’s normally pallid cheeks. “I am simply making you aware of what is being said all around London.” He shrugged. “It is not in my nature to let my friends walk about oblivious.”

Scarlett wanted to tell him to shove his concern right up his arse, but it was not the most ladylike thing to say. Certainly not befitting the dignity of a duchess.

Her husband, however, was not above such pettiness.

His answering smile could rival a snowstorm.

“Mere gossip from people who scarcely matter,” he quipped. “But they must matter a lot to you , Colton. Or perhaps…” His smile widened and grew even more glacial. “Perhaps you are one of those with a penchant for watching what they can never have?”

Lord Colton might have fired the first shot, but Hudson certainly meant to finish the entire battle.

With a cannon.

Men!

Scarlett groaned inwardly. Did they truly have to resolve everything with sheer force?

But she had to admit that Hudson—overwhelmingly blunt and excessive as he might be—had exceedingly effective tactics. Brutal, but effective.

Lord Colton did not speak another word, his cheeks remaining a high color until they reached the opera house. As soon as the carriage door was opened, he immediately climbed out, leaving even Alexander in shock.

“I… should go see to him,” Alexander mumbled, hurrying after his embarrassed friend.

Scarlett nodded, while Hudson merely offered him a cold smile.

She turned towards him with a slight frown. “You did not have to be so cruel.”

He arched a dark eyebrow in response. “You thought that was cruel? I have not even begun to exact the appropriate vengeance on that lily-livered imbecile.”

“Lily-livered imbecile?” She would have thrown her hands up in the air in frustration if they were not in full view of the other guests trickling into the opera house.

“Come, little cat. We can discuss this in our box,” he told her, his voice a low warning. “Away from prying eyes and ears.”

Scarlett pressed her lips into a thin line and allowed him to steer her into their box. He was right—it did afford them a modicum of privacy, and when the footman closed the door behind them, she whirled on her feet to face him.

“That was uncalled for,” she told him. “You know you did not have to be so rude.”

“If you want an exceedingly polite dandy who would not defend your honor, then you married the wrong person,” he replied scathingly. “Maybe you should have married the Marquess.”

Scarlett wanted to rage against him. Wanted to unleash her fury on this obtuse man that she chose .

But her shoulders simply sagged. “He is not wrong either.”

“What the hell do you mean?” he snarled, his eyebrows snapping together.

She lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. “You do not want me.”

His eyes grew cold. Absolutely glacial. “What the hell are you talking about?”

She wanted to cry, but she shook her head with a bitter laugh. “You think me a fool. You think everyone else is a fool!” She hugged herself as if it would stave off the cold loneliness that seeped into her bones. The embarrassment . “But we all can see the truth—me, the servants. Everyone. You. Do. Not. Want. Me.”

Tears stung her eyes as she unleashed the words she had held in for weeks.

“I wanted to stay at home,” she told him brokenly. “At least I would not have to deal with rejection from Snowdrop. Instead, I have to watch an opera where your paramour is singing!”

Hudson looked at her in horror. “I thought you were the one who wanted to go to the opera.”

“You think I enjoy watching the performance of a woman who shared your bed?” she spat.

“Then you should have said something.” His voice was soft. Gentle. “If you told me you disliked the opera so much, not even your blathering idiot of a brother could have dragged me here.”

Scarlett choked on her laughter. “It does not change anything, though. You do not want me, and I have to sit here and pretend that I am perfectly fine with it.”

“Do you really believe that, Duchess?” he asked softly.

He reached for her hand, pressing it to his manhood with a muffled groan. Her eyes widened as she felt him through his breeches and saw the naked hunger in his eyes. When her fingers curled reflexively around his cock, he let out a low growl, his fingers sinking into her hair.

“I am done with being a good man, little cat,” he groaned. “I want you, and you need to know that.”

His warm breath fanned her cheek. Hot. Insistent. It called to the desire that pooled low in her belly as she met his wild gaze.

“Good.” She smiled mischievously. “Because I want my Wolf back.”