Page 43 of A Virgin for the Ton's Wolf

So, he simply glared at Ethan for even putting the idea into his head.

His friend simply laughed. “For what it is worth, old friend, you did get her into a scandal,” he pointed out.

“No.Shegot herself into a scandal by making such wild claims.”

Claims that Hudson would like to enact. If he was going to be blamed for something, then why not just do what he was already being accused of?

“They are not such wild claims now, are they?”

Hudson pressed his lips together.

Not anymore. Not after what happened inside.

“You know I cannot marry,” he told his friend grimly. “For her sake.”

“The same thing I said when Phoebe came into my life.” Ethan smiled wistfully. “As I recall,youwere the one who convinced me otherwise, Hudson.”

“This is different.”

“I recall saying the same thing.”

Except this was truly a different case. The shadow that hung over Sinclair Estate was banished the moment Phoebe became its Duchess and, Hudson suspected, even before that.

It would take more than a marriage to purge Wolverton Estate of its demons—andhewas the darkest one of them all.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

She was doomed. Hopelessly, irreparablydoomed.

Scarlett sank onto the upholstered sofa right beside Snowdrop, briefly startling the sleeping puppy. That kiss had been everything she had hoped for andmore. Now, she could not get it out of her head.

Or her racing heart.

Or her tingling… places.

It was enough to drive a sane, independence-loving young woman mad.

With want.

The Duke of Wolverton had become something akin to an addictive substance. Most illicit. Very probably highly frowned upon.

And probably just as difficult to obtain through conventional means.

Not that she would want to obtain him—dear heavens,no. The man was the complete antithesis of the freedom she craved. He ordered her around as if he expected her to simply fall to her knees at his command and?—

Do not go there!

Heat surged up to her cheeks as alarm bells rang in her head. Addiction never did anyone any good—just ask the Baron Farthington, whose weakness for gambling had chased his entire family out of London.

But gambling and kissing were two very,verydifferent things, and although Society might frown upon them both, the former was at least kindly referred to as thegentleman’s vice.

Kissing—kissing rogues, especially—was a shortcut to ruin.

Men were allowed their dalliances. Society generally turned a blind eye, although the ladies might twitter endlessly behind their fans. But for a young lady to be caught in such a compromising position with a man?

Oh, she could consider the next half of her life in the countryside, hidden from polite company because of one tiny error.

“Well, I suppose my little made-up story has become a reality,” she sighed, stroking the soft fur on the puppy’s head. “His Grace cannot claim it is a lie now.”

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