Page 58 of A Virgin for the Ton's Wolf

“Who am I fooling?” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration before the mirror.

She turned towards Snowdrop, who looked up at her expectantly.

“Look at me, Snowdrop. I look like a fright. The Dowager Duchess should never let me step into the ball, or I would scare all the guests away!”

For the past few minutes, she had dutifully applied every technique she had read about inLa Belle Assembléeand Ackerman’sRepository of the Arts.

None of them worked, unfortunately. A most regrettable waste of pin money, the whole lot of them.

“I should just skip the ball altogether,” she moaned despondently, burying her face in her arms.

“And admit defeat? That hardly seems like the Lady Scarlett Clarke I have come to admire!”

Scarlett gasped when she saw the stately and elegant Dowager Duchess standing at her door with a stern smile on her face.

“Your Grace!” She fumbled to get up from her seat, but the older woman simply waved her off and made her way to the upholstered sofa.

“Now, tell me—what is this I hear of your plan to skip the ball, hmm?” the Dowager Duchess asked, patting the seat beside her. “Has that stubborn son of mine offended you again, my dear?”

Define ‘offend.’

Scarlett bit back the retort that hovered on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she smiled slightly at the older lady and sat beside her.

“You have been very kind to me and my mother, Your Grace,” she said politely. “But I have not exactly been feeling myself lately. Besides, His Grace was right—we really should be heading back to Southford.”

The Dowager Duchess peered at her, and Scarlett feared that those eyes of hers were far keener than she let on. Mothers always seemed to know when their children were hiding something, and for a woman who bore Hudson Barrow? She trusted that the Dowager Duchessknewwhen she was being managed.

“Oh, it pains my heart when you say that!” the Dowager Duchess sighed, reaching for her hands. “You and your mama aremyguests, no matter what Hudson says. And did I not promise you a ball to find you a more suitable match?”

Scarlett smiled hesitantly. “That you did, Your Grace.”

“So, there will be no talk of not going to the ball.” The Dowager Duchess patted her hands, oblivious to the dismay that Scarlett was certain showed on her face. “Don’t you fret, my dear—I have invited a great many nice gentlemen for you. Think of it as your second coming out ball.”

It had been three years since Scarlett made her bow, and there were very few reasons one would have a second coming out ball—none of them truly flattering. Except this time, it was the Dowager Duchess of Wolverton who was sending out the invitations.

“You are very kind to me, Your Grace. I will never forget it,” Scarlett said instead, biting back the words she truly wanted to say.

“Please allow me to go home and live the rest of my life in my family’s country estate.”

No, that would slight the Dowager Duchess.

“Say you will attend the ball, my dear.”

My, but she was certainly a persistent one! Scarlett had to bite back a laugh.

“I will, Your Grace,” she promised.

Pleased with her reply, the Dowager Duchess only stayed a little bit longer to urge her to get more sleep—they only had two more days before the ball.

With enough sleep and copious amounts of cold spoons, Scarlett just might manage to tone down the atrocious giveaway of her current dilemma.

Perhaps shecouldattend a ball. She had done so for the past three Seasons or so. She could survive one more.

Except that this time, she would have to attend one with Hudson Barrow in it, and suddenly, she was not so brave anymore.

She turned to face her reflection in the mirror, feeling mildly horrified as she took in the wan face and the dark, little crescents under her eyes. She looked an absolute fright. Hardly anyone to inspire a pledge of marriage.

That would have to change.

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