Page 5 of A Virgin for the Ton’s Wolf (Ton’s Wolves #4)

CHAPTER FIVE

I cannot believe this is happening to me.

Scarlett could hardly swallow the delicious pot roast as the Dowager Duchess of Wolverton peered at her over the fine china, her eyes dancing with more merriment than what could be considered polite.

No, the Dowager Duchess looked at Scarlett as if she herself was the solution to all of her life’s conundrums.

Any young woman would have swooned at the thought of receiving such a distinct honor, but Scarlett only wanted to dig a hole—one deeper than the one she currently found herself in—and hide there for the rest of her life.

Or when the consequences of her actions had blown over—whichever came first.

Her mama, on the other hand, chose to sit in blessedly ambivalent silence, even as she continued to cast furtive glances at her and the painfully empty seat at the head of the table.

No doubt, she had already sent word to Alexander.

Scarlett groaned inwardly.

The matter of ruining a young woman’s reputation was no small issue. Doubtless, countless mothers all over London would fervently nod in agreement at her mama’s storming Wolverton Estate to demand that the Duke do right by her.

Except that she had been the one who had done him wrong by besmirching his reputation.

Scarlett inwardly shuddered as she recalled the dangerous look in his eyes. The blatant menace in his tone when he threatened to execute her brother on the dueling grounds for her misdeed.

“His Grace… will he be joining us for dinner?” she asked the Dowager Duchess carefully. She did not want to seem too eager for his presence. Or too fearful.

Fear of a man gave him power, and that was something she was not willing to relinquish, whatever the cost.

The Dowager Duchess shook her head. “Oh no, my dear. Hudson has always eaten alone ever since… well, ever since he returned .”

Returned?

Scarlett’s ears perked up at that. Returned from where exactly?

Probably from that route of debauchery cloaked under the guise of education that privileged gentlemen called the Grand Tour . Alexander had embarked on the same quest, as well. Apparently, it had made him none the wiser nor more knowledgeable if he thought the Marquess of Colton would make a suitable husband for her.

She frowned as she stabbed at a small, perfectly round, perfectly innocent potato.

“I apologize for his abhorrent manners,” the Dowager Duchess added with a sad, little shake of her head.

Her mama immediately rushed to comfort her.

“Oh, no, no! I am certain that His Grace has other matters of greater import to attend to!” she gushed.

Scarlett nearly rolled her eyes at the prompt vindication of the Duke of Wolverton’s rudeness to his guests.

“You are much too kind, Lady Southford.” The Dowager Duchess smiled gratefully. “I, however, would like to make better use of his absence—my son makes for poor company, anyway, with that temper of his.”

Scarlett watched as her mama promptly forgot that the Duke had threatened to throw them out of his estate just that afternoon. Or that he had sinisterly promised to execute Alexander on the dueling grounds.

All on account of a tiny lie. He truly was not one to look away from the slightest grievance and demanded payment for the most minuscule of debts.

“It is my complete and honest belief that the right woman…”

Scarlett did her best to ignore the pointed look the Dowager Duchess threw her way.

“… but alas, he shuts me down if I so much as think about it.”

In that aspect, Scarlett felt a little sympathy towards the Duke. There was nothing in the world worse than a mother who had set herself upon the marriage of her children, except, of course, a mother who had set herself upon meddling with her children’s marriages and had both the time and resources to spare.

Why, oh why, could dowagers not find a better occupation? Whatever happened to archery? Painting and drawing? Even embroidery could have been a better outlet for their manipulative—and dare she say slightly violent —tendencies! She was certain they could find much glee stabbing little needles into strategic points in fabric…

But no—heaven decided that a woman freed of the constraints of marriage must busy herself with finding husbands for her daughters and wives for her sons. It was madness, true, but it was also reality.

“But Wolverton is not the only eligible bachelor in London, my dear,” the Dowager Duchess chirped, beaming brightly at Scarlett. “Why, as his mother, I can say that there certainly are more eligible bachelors with better tempers. His ornery character hardly makes him a good match. As much as I would love to have a woman to commiserate with in this estate, I am afraid I cannot—in good conscience—recommend him as a proper husband, unless he changes his ways.”

Yet, why did she look as if she would want nothing more than for Scarlett to volunteer herself for that most arduous of tasks?

Scarlett chose to ignore that thinly veiled suggestion and focus on her beef and potatoes instead.

“I am certain His Grace has good qualities.” Her mama smiled at the Dowager Duchess as if the duke in question was simply the most misunderstood of men. As if he had not threatened to kick her out of his property just that afternoon.

“Well, thank you for saying that, Lady Southford,” the Dowager Duchess sighed with a sad smile, looking meaningfully over at Scarlett. “I suppose it would take a very special young woman to make Wolverton see some sense.”

But alas, moss grows on stone, and awful tempers are not so easily discarded.

Scarlett snickered inwardly as she pushed the beef around on her plate. His temper and his ways were set, and heaven help the poor soul who thought she could change him.

“I do not think His Grace would appreciate it very much if anyone tried to ‘tame’ him,” Scarlett pointed out.

“Scarlett!” Her mama was equal parts aghast and censorious at her choice of words—not that they were inaccurate.

Not appreciating it would be putting it mildly. If he had an outburst over it, that would be the best-case scenario. Scarlett was convinced he would demand a detailed payment from the offender. She shuddered inwardly.

As for herself, she was not stupid. She knew her limitations, and they stopped well before any attempt to tame the Wolf. Her bruised pride had already paid dearly for her falsehood. She was not so keen on involving the Duke in anything in the future.

“You have to forgive my daughter, Your Grace.” Her mama shot her a reproving glare.

But the Dowager Duchess merely laughed lightly. “On the contrary, Lady Southford, I find Lady Scarlett’s honesty very refreshing for someone her age!” She beamed at Scarlett. “This big, old house could do with a bit more of that, I think.”

“You must not encourage her, Your Grace. Her manners are already atrocious, as it is.”

Whatever her mama thought of her in the past few hours, Scarlett was quite certain it was not pride . Horror, perhaps, with a slight mix of despondency. Maybe even a bit of anger.

Yet, her mama was smiling a little bit more, even helping herself to another serving of the potatoes, when she mostly ate like a bird, pecking at her food intermittently.

It must be the wine , Scarlett mused, slightly perplexed. Or the cook in Wolverton must be very, very good.

“Nonsense, Lady Southford. The young lady’s manners are impeccable, her wit dazzling. Such a rare young woman. You must be very proud of your daughter. In fact—” The Dowager Duchess beamed. “I can throw a ball right after this storm passes, and those gentlemen will be falling over themselves for even a dance with dear Lady Scarlett.” She turned towards Scarlett. “I know a great many upstanding young men—sons of my acquaintances, you see. You can have your pick of the lot, my dear.”

The thought of choosing another suitor, right after she managed to evade the Marquess of Colton and earned the ire of the Duke of Wolverton, was the farthest thing from Scarlett’s mind. Quite honestly, the thought of chewing on broken glass sounded far more appealing.

“I suppose the blame for her behavior can be laid at my door,” her mama demurred with a woeful smile. “We never meant to… push her to marry the Marquess. We wanted to give her a bit more liberty in such matters. I should have known that she would not take kindly to such coercion. You see, Your Grace, I was not well-behaved in my youth either.”

“Truly?” The Dowager Duchess looked more intrigued than scandalized by that admission.

“I once hid a newt inside a drawer in my father’s study.”

Scarlett immediately looked up from her food. This tale, she had yet to hear, but her mother would not possibly go so far as to lie just to entertain the Dowager Duchess.

Or would she?

“I imagine that must have caused quite a commotion.” Their host laughed gaily.

“Indeed,” Lady Southford sighed. “And it just so happened that a certain suitor had chosen that particular day to ask for my hand in my papa’s study. When my father opened his drawer to pull out the betrothal contract, the poor thing jumped out immediately.”

Scarlett peered at her mother in pleasant surprise. “And then what happened?”

“Lord Delaney happened to despise all manner of creatures—smaller ones even worse. I heard that he barely tolerated horses and that was simply because he had to use them to get anywhere.” Her mama looked down at her plate with a hint of mischief in her smile. “It did not help matters at all that when the anxious creature skittered over his sleeve, my papa roared my name in fury.”

Her mama… had a different side to her, it would seem.

The Dowager Duchess laughed and shook her head, wiping tears from her eyes. “Seeing as you are now Lady Southford and not Lady Delaney , I would assume that he withdrew his suit?”

“He could not have left faster, Your Grace.”

The Dowager Duchess nodded her head sagely. “Well, if a gentleman cannot stomach even the smallest creatures, how can he be expected to protect a wife and children from the dangers of the world?”

The Dowager Countess smiled in reply. “My thoughts precisely, Your Grace.”

While the two women looked at each other in perfect agreement, Scarlett could only wonder how her mama might have been in her youth. A newt in her grandpapa’s drawer? That was brilliant! She could not have thought up a more ingenious plan herself, nor would she have managed to capture such a creature for her schemes.

“Somehow,” a dark voice intoned. “I find that I am not surprised. Brazenness clearly runs in the family.”

Scarlett felt the prickling sensation in her scalp skittering down her spine to the very tips of her toes before she even saw him. Even her fingertips tingled, and she clutched the cutlery as the Duke walked past the dining table. He barely spared her and her mother a cool, cursory glance, before he growled—absolutely, menacingly growled—for one of the servants to draw him a bath.

As he stalked off in long, angry strides, Scarlett vaguely heard the Dowager Duchess sigh in dismay, “And that is why I fear he would never marry.”

Indeed. Who would ever want to marry such an ill-tempered beast?