My Once and Future Duke (The Wagers of Sin #1)(33)

Gingerly she took it. Handsome, attracted to her, and now becoming charming. She would have to be very, very careful to avoid making a fool of herself.





Chapter 10




Jack was at breakfast when Wilson brought the first bit of bad news the following morning. “Your Grace, Mr. Percy is here.”

Percy ought to have been working diligently in the Ware mansion in Mayfair at this very moment. Percy knew his place, which meant there was only one explanation for the man’s presence at Alwyn. Jack closed the newspaper—-Wilson must have sent someone on horseback for it at dawn—-and stood.

“Where?”

“The morning room, Your Grace.”

Jack glanced at the door. Mrs. Campbell had not yet appeared. He was looking forward to seeing her far too much. “Has Mrs. Campbell awoken yet?”

“I believe so. Mrs. Gibbon has located some garments for the lady, but mentioned they would need some alteration.”

Of course; she had no clothes of her own. Jack breathed a bit easier, only now realizing he’d grown tense as the minutes ticked away and she didn’t appear. “Very good.” The butler nodded, throwing open the door as Jack strode out of the room and went to see his secretary.

Richard Percy stood in the morning room. He had obviously ridden from town, judging from the mud on his boots and his wet and bedraggled clothing. “Your Grace,” he said, bowing at Jack’s appearance. “I do beg your pardon for this -intrusion—-”

“But Her Grace my mother is going out of her mind with worry,” Jack finished in a dry tone. “Is that it?”

“Yes, sir.” Percy’s expression eased.

Jack knew his mother’s worry didn’t spring from fears for his safety. In fact, it probably wasn’t worry at all, but anger. Since the moment he inherited, she had drummed it into him that he must be above reproach, morally, financially, and socially. Getting into a very scandalous, public wager with a woman at a gaming club would be just the thing to outrage her notions of propriety, and abruptly decamping for Alwyn House with that same woman would send her into a paroxysm of alarm.

For a moment he wondered what Philip had told their mother. Philip never could resist telling a good story, and the scene in Vega’s was unquestionably the most shocking thing Jack had done in the last several years. Of course, telling her would have required that Philip confess he was already playing at Vega’s again, explicitly breaking the promise he’d made in exchange for Jack paying his debt to Bagwell. Philip was not fond of confession.

Well. No doubt that would have been overshadowed by the duchess’s horror at Jack’s actions. It had never been much of a secret that the duchess preferred her second son, the one who took after her, while Jack—-the heir—-might as well have been solely his father’s son.

“You may assure Her Grace I am perfectly well, and will return to town when it suits me.”

“Will it be a long stay, Your Grace?” Percy backed up a step at Jack’s cool stare. “I ask only for my own knowledge, sir.”

“No,” he said curtly. “A few days only.”

“Of course.” Percy wet his lips, then took a sealed letter from his coat pocket and offered it. “Her Grace bid me deliver this.”

Jack took it without looking at it. “Wilson will have sent someone to prepare a room. Go get dry. You can return to London as soon as your mount is cared for. I trust you will be able to carry on in my absence for a few days.”

His secretary bowed and left. Jack cursed aloud in the empty room. His mother’s letter was like an anvil in his hand. He knew what it would say. Since the day he inherited his title, her constant refrain had been one of duty: he must remember his position as duke and moderate his behavior accordingly to honor his father and all the dukes who came before him.

He broke the seal and skimmed the letter. It was as expected, indignant and dismayed, concluding with a stern scolding that he had completely undermined his role as head of the family by engaging in the precise sort of behavior Philip must be persuaded to avoid. His brother, the duchess wrote, was humiliated and stunned by this reversal, and she hinted he would be impossible to govern from now on.

Jack’s mouth flattened at that charge. Philip was already impossible to govern, and it had nothing to do with Jack’s actions.

Worst, though, was the last paragraph. Not only was it most shocking that you would do such a thing, but you have left me open to acute embarrassment. I was counting on you to accompany me to the Benthams’ ball tonight; I presume from your absence you have forgotten and left me to send my regrets at an unpardonably late moment. Lady Stowe and her daughter will be in attendance, and both were anticipating your company. I had not thought you would abandon them so carelessly or hastily; your father would not be pleased . . .

That, Jack thought in irritation, was unfair. The Stowe family had been close to his for decades. The late earl had been his father’s dearest friend, and Lady Stowe and Jack’s mother were inseparable. It was both tragic and fitting that the same boating accident claimed the earl’s life and, after a week of illness, the duke’s, as well. On his deathbed, his father had begged Jack to see that Lady Stowe and her young daughter, Lucinda, were taken care of, and Jack had promised. In the seven years since, he had done everything for them the moment it was asked. He had never abandoned them.