Page 14 of A Virgin for the Ton's Wolf

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 asthinkabout 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 marriagesandhad 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 slightlyviolent—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 aremoreeligible 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 avery specialyoung 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 itwould 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 inanythingin 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 notpride. 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 toliejust to entertain the Dowager Duchess.

Or would she?

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

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