Page 18 of A Virgin for the Ton's Wolf

As soon as possible.

Before he ended up truly stealing her innocence.

He groaned as he ran a dust-covered hand over his face. If he did that, if he succumbed to his dark desires, then he would truly be irredeemable.

Just like his father.

And he had sworn that he wouldneverbe like him.

Tomorrow,he decided.

Tomorrow, he would send her and her infernal mama packing and out of Wolverton Estate, even if he had to throw them both into the carriage himself. He would getherout of his mind, and then he would send for Josephine to quell the raging inferno in his blood.

He would purge the fantasies of her brilliant, flame-colored tresses spread across his pillow like a molten river. Of her limbs tangled with his as she moaned his name over and over again…

“Damn it all to hell!” he hissed under his breath.

He needed a bath. Preferably one that was icy enough to quell his raging arousal.

He marched over to the washing section of his workspace and stripped himself naked, groaning as he grabbed his erection.

It was allherfault—that bloody, damned,gloriouswoman.

Without saying another word, he grabbed the bucket and poured its contents on his head. The shock of the cold water cleared his mind only the slightest bit.

The urge to drag Lady Scarlett under his body remained unabated, damn it.

Outside, the rain had slowed down significantly to a steady downpour. Not quite a drizzle yet, but not the heavy torrent that had lashed against the windows earlier.

Tomorrow, he would send her on her way.

He just had to figure out how to make it through the rest of the night with Lady Scarlett sleeping under the same roof, her assigned bedchamber right across from his own.

Sometimes, his mother could be far more diabolical than even the bloody French.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Whatever gods existed never answered his prayers, for it rained throughout the night, and in the morning, his butler delivered the most unfortunate news that the roads remained impassable. Unless he possessed the means to make carriages fly, their guests would have to stay for another day at the very least—a fact that seemed to fill his mother with far more glee than what was logical.

“I should have paid for those damned roads to be paved all the way up to London,” he grumbled as he sifted through the documents on his desk.

Petitions from the villagers. Blueprints for a new machine that could produce twice as much fabric at half the time it would take current machinery…

But all he could think of was an infuriating woman with red-gold hair spilling past her shoulders, wondering if those tresses would feel just as silken between his fingers.

He tossed a sheaf of papers onto the messy pile on his desk and strode out of his study.

None of it mattered. Not while she was still in Wolverton Estate, diverting all his focus and attention simply with her proximity.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” his butler greeted him as he made his way down the stairs. “Will you be having your breakfast in the dining hall?”

“I was not aware that I would be excluded from dining at the table in my own residence, Dalton.”

The stoic butler did not even flinch at his sarcastic reply. “Certainly not, Your Grace. In fact, the Dowager Duchess has made it perfectly clear that your presence at breakfast would be much appreciated.”

I am certain she would do just that.

Hudson was also certain that his mother would be making side comments all morning about the virtues of Lady Scarlett. The Dowager Duchess possessed about as much subtlety as a raging bull in a china shop.

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