My Once and Future Duke (The Wagers of Sin #1)(12)

Finally, though it felt abrupt, the duke put his hands palm down on the table and surveyed the damage. His golden hair had grown disheveled, falling in rumpled waves over his forehead, and he’d unbuttoned his jacket at some point. It made him look far more like his rakish younger brother. “Enough,” he said.

She sent a dazzling smile in his direction. “As you wish, sir. And may I say, it has certainly been my pleasure.” The crowd rumbled with laughter. A small mountain of markers sat on her side; she’d lost track of the total after it reached two hundred pounds. This was her best night in a year.

At her words, he looked up, visibly irked. His eyes glittered sea blue, and his mouth tightened. “One more round.”

She laughed in disbelief. “Such a gambler!” Beside her, Philip snorted with laughter. Philip was enjoying this immensely. Sophie rested her hand on the table to lean closer to him and lowered her voice. “Surely you’ve lost enough for one night.”

The duke’s gaze swung toward her, slowly climbing from her hands to her face. Too late she realized her comment, well meant advice to someone on a bad losing streak, had struck him as condescension. “No more paltry stakes.”

Her moment of regret ended. Paltry! No wonder Philip despised him. “Let that be a lesson, Philip,” she said lightly, without taking her eyes from the duke. “A hundred guineas is a paltry sum.”

Philip chuckled. The duke stared at her. A tiny muscle twitched in his jaw, giving the impression of barely leashed emotion. “I stake five thousand pounds.” Sophie’s mouth dropped open and the crowd buzzed with shock—-and delight. Clearly Vega’s did not see recklessness on this scale every night. “One round each, played until loss, winner take all. If we both throw out, it’s a draw.”

Unconsciously her gaze veered back to her prize money. She’d have to wager it all, on one round. If she won, it would be by far the smallest part of her profit tonight. It would also put her almost at her goal of ten thousand pounds saved. Independence would be within her grasp in this one round . . .

But the first rule of gambling was: easily won, easily lost. The duke’s luck had been abominable, but that didn’t mean her odds had improved. “Not tonight, sir,” she said, with more than a tinge of regret. Better to keep the few hundred pounds she’d already won.

“You mistake me. You don’t have to risk a farthing.” She made the mistake of looking at him again. Indifferent to the onlookers whispering around them, he rose to his full height and folded his arms. It made his shoulders look very broad and his arms very strong, and there was a focus in his face as he watched her that made Sophie’s heart patter erratically. She wanted to look away from his sea--blue gaze but couldn’t. “One week of your company is what I want.”



If Jack had seen any other man act the way he’d behaved tonight, he would have suspected the fellow was barking, howling mad.

Since he was that fellow, he knew beyond all doubt that he had indeed lost his mind.

He had ignored his own good judgment and caused a scene—-and not just any scene, piously preventing Philip from running headlong into ruin, but a scene that would enthrall every gossip in London, no matter what pledges Dashwood exacted from his patrons. Worst of all, he was breaking his own vow to avoid gambling—-at hazard, the game designed to beggar a man as speedily as possible.

But there was something about this woman that provoked and entranced him beyond all reason. Her hair had come loose as they played, and one curl hung down at her nape, tangling in that extra length of black ribbon. Every time she leaned over the table to collect the dice—-or her winnings—-his eyes were drawn to that curl, teasing and tempting him to catch it, to bury his face in the mass of her chestnut hair, to inhale her scent. He could almost feel the ripe curves of her body against his. When she smiled after a good roll, he didn’t think of the money he’d just lost but of what her ripe pink mouth would taste like.

Utter madness.

He hadn’t been affected by a woman like this in years, and was shocked by how powerful it was. Helplessly he gazed at her, fully aware that she was flirting with every scoundrel pressed up against the hazard table trying to peer down her vivid red bodice. She filled it out spectacularly, he couldn’t help but notice. No wonder Philip had broken his vow of moral rectitude for her. Jack hadn’t missed the fascination in his brother’s face as he watched her, and on no account was he going to allow her to make a fool of Philip. He had stepped forward to save his brother from a mercenary temptress, nothing more.

But the moment her gaze connected with his, every thought of Philip vanished from his brain.

Consequently, he went a little mad, taunting her into gambling with him, playing recklessly even when it grew abundantly clear he had no idea what he was doing. He’d thought Philip looked like a fool, but then he’d proven himself one, in front of every avid gambler in town.

A murmur went through the crowd when he made the last outrageous wager. Philip, who had been openly enjoying his humiliation to this point, lurched forward. “What the devil are you doing?”

Jack barely glanced at his brother. “Wagering.”

“You can’t wager that!”

“No?” He turned to look at Mrs. Campbell. How reckless was she? She was staring at him, eyes wide, her rosy lips parted. The wise move here would be for her to collect her winnings and walk out the door.