My Once and Future Duke (The Wagers of Sin #1)(14)

“Stop,” she gasped. “Wait a moment . . .”

“You wagered and you lost. Everyone at Vega’s pays their debts, my dear.”

“Yes, but I cannot go with you now—-”

“You can.” There was an outburst behind him—-Philip arguing with Dashwood, who was refusing to intervene. Jack felt a dark satisfaction that perhaps now, at last, Philip would believe he meant what he said.

“Tomorrow,” Mrs. Campbell protested, but he squeezed her and she stopped speaking.

“What is different about tomorrow? You’re trying to think of a way out of it, or stalling for time until Philip can.” He looked down at her as a servant went flying for her cloak. “Don’t be afraid,” he added in cool amusement as he took in her pale, angry face. “I have no designs on you.” He lowered his head until his lips brushed the hair at her temple. She smelled of oranges. “Can you say the same of my brother?”

Her face flushed as scarlet as her gown. Jack caught a glimpse down the front of her bodice and felt an answering flush of heat in his own body. Forget Philip, he wanted to say. Let me seduce you instead. Which was the clearest sign yet that he’d lost his mind.

The servant ran up with Jack’s things and her cloak. The instant she took it, he swept her out the door and down the steps. It had begun raining, and Mrs. Campbell huddled against him, throwing her cloak up to shield herself. Philip shouted after them, but Jack ignored it. This was for his brother’s own good, and he was not in the mood for any more confrontation tonight.

The Ware coach was waiting where he’d left it, even though he’d been inside much longer than expected. A footman threw open the door, his expression impassive as Jack bundled his companion inside. She scrambled onto the far seat as he shrugged into his greatcoat and gave a few short instructions to his servants.

Philip burst out of the club, hatless and furious. “Don’t you dare do this,” he spat, standing with his feet apart and his hands in fists. “I will never forgive you!”

Jack gave him a long, ducal stare, the one he’d learned from his father. “If you’d kept your word, it would not have been necessary. Until next week, dear brother.” He touched the brim of his hat in mocking salute and stepped into the carriage.





Chapter 5




Sophie landed on the plush velvet seat and tried to gather her scrambled wits.

She’d done it now. In the space of a few short hours, she had risked—-and perhaps lost—-everything she’d worked so hard to achieve. Bitterly she remembered Mrs. Upton’s words from long ago: gambling is the path to ruin. Tonight she had flagrantly violated every lesson she’d ever learned, and see where it had got her.

The duke stepped into the carriage and took the seat opposite her. The light gleamed on his golden hair for a moment, and then the footman shut the door, closing her in with the duke.

She wished she’d listened better when Philip spoke of his brother. She wished she’d heeded her own instincts to discourage Philip sooner. If she’d only refused him, she could still be playing whist with Mr. Carter, happily and quietly winning another hundred pounds or so for her savings. The duke had tempted her into lunacy with that enormous wager—-five thousand pounds!—-and it had been her undoing.

But if he thought he had bought her body and soul for a week, the Duke of Ware was going to be sorely disappointed.

“You’re completely mad!” Best to start on the attack.

“Mad?” He gave a sharp huff of laughter. “I don’t doubt it.”

She gripped her cloak with both hands to keep from slapping him. “This is very nearly kidnapping, you know. I lost the wager, but that does not give you the right to haul me out of Vega’s like a constable seizing a wanted criminal!”

“What you were doing to my brother ought to be criminal,” he returned.

Sophie’s mouth dropped open. “Criminal! It’s perfectly legal to gamble in London, thank you very much, and your brother went there of his own will—-to gamble. Why not turn on Mr. Dashwood, for allowing him entry?”

“Philip gave his word just this morning to cease all wagering for one month.” The duke’s voice was icy cold. “Yet there he was, unable to resist playing hazard because you were there.”

She wanted to throw something very heavy at him. “I was engaged in a respectable game of whist with other gentlemen when he arrived. If anything, he disrupted my evening, threatening to cause a scene if I did not play with him. And I suggested hazard because I thought it would end quickly.”

“With his money in your purse.”

“Only because he plays badly,” she shot back, incensed. “But I see that is a common family characteristic, for the most part.”

He inhaled audibly. She braced herself, but when he spoke, it was in the same even, implacable tone as before. “Yes, there has been an abundance of poor judgment this evening.”

Hope made her sit up a little straighter. “It’s not too late, you know. Drive me home, and I give you my word I shall never sit across from Lord Philip again at any table, not for gambling, not for dinner, not for bloody tea. In fact, if you supply a list of other friends or family members you wish to preserve from my offensive presence, I shall commit it to memory and avoid all of them.”