Page 27 of A Virgin for the Ton's Wolf

It was just too bad that the only one who seemed capable of fulfilling that fantasy was someone who would much rathernot.

They continued the trek back to the manor in silence. Once or twice, she caught the Wolf looking back at her as if to make sure she was still there, dutifully trailing behind him.

Trailing? Yes. Dutifully? Absolutely not.

Each and every time he did that, she raised her chin and stomped up the path. Fortunately, the closer they got to the manor, the better and clearer the path became.

When they finally arrived at the manor, a little wet and worse for wear, they were both immediately whisked into the parlor by the Dowager Duchess and plied with copious amounts of tea.

The Dowager Countess, however, was far less pleased with her daughter’s actions.

“What were you thinking?” she railed, as politely as she could in company. “Running off into the rain like that? You are so fortunate His Grace went after you, or heaven knows you would be?—”

“Dead?” Scarlett deadpanned.

Her mama glared at her. “Dishonored. Ruined. Oh, Scarlett!”

The Dowager Countess had her priorities set differently.

As for dishonor and ruination, Scarlett was much more likely to end up with both with the Duke—but her mama would never know that.

She gave her mother a reassuring smile. “But, Mama, I am perfectly all right!” She turned around to show her. “See?”

The Dowager Countess fanned herself. “And you could have very easily been not.”

If Scarlett did not know it, her mother was being more dramatic than usual. A tragedy that her intended audience was not the least bit amused by the whole spectacle.

Scarlett cast a glance at the man in question and found him standing stoically by the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression giving nothing away.

A true rake, if she ever saw one. He could indulge in debauchery and go on to have luncheon with the Queen as if nothing had happened.

But Scarlett would never be able to walk away from all of that.

“I, for one, am simply grateful that you are all right, my dear.” The Dowager Duchess smiled at her. She reached out to hold Scarlett’s hands. “Oh my, your hands are cold as ice! Why don’t you head back to your chambers, and I shall have the maids draw a nice hot bath for you?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Scarlett saw Hudson stiffen slightly. “That sounds lovely, Your Grace.”

“Very well then—a bath is in order. And then you must rest. You need not worry about coming down for dinner—I shall have it sent to your chambers as well.”

“Oh, but that is too much, Your Grace.”

“Nonsense, my dear.” The Dowager Duchess clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “As your hostess, it is the least I can do for you.”

If Scarlett did not have to come down for dinner, then that meant she would be less likely to encounter the master of Wolverton Estate.

She nodded with a weak smile. “If Your Grace insists, then I shall spend the rest of the day in my chambers.” She paused and then looked down at the folds of her cloak, where Snowdrop was snuggled. “And if it is not too much trouble, might I have something for the puppy as well?”

“I shall see to it, my dear,” the Dowager Duchess reassured her. “Now, go back to your chambers and get some rest. You have had a long day.”

You have no idea, Your Grace.

Scarlett bit her tongue and allowed herself to be ushered out of the parlor by her mama. She paused when she passed by Hudson and bobbed a quick curtsy.

“Thank you for searching for me earlier, Your Grace.”

She kept her head down, biting her lower lip. She could feel his gaze boring into her, although he remained deathly silent. Butearlier, he had not been as calm. He was on the verge of losing control, too.

What would he look like if he truly lost control? How would it feel to be swept up in his arms in a storm of passion?

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