My Once and Future Duke (The Wagers of Sin #1)(52)

If he were as curious as everyone else would be to know what had happened between her and Jack—-not Jack, the duke, she reminded herself—-Forbes didn’t show it. She gave him a bright smile. “Thank you, I am.”

He sent the cloak off with a footman. “Mr. Dashwood would like to have a word at your convenience.”

“Oh?” Sophie tensed, then made herself relax. She’d never fool anyone if she twitched like a startled mouse every time someone spoke to her. “I am free at the moment, if he will speak to me now.”

“This way,” he said, and led her to Mr. Dashwood’s office. It took real effort to keep her muscles from knotting; what was Mr. Dashwood going to say? Forbes had obviously been instructed to bring her in immediately. Had she breached some rule and was about to have her membership revoked? She had been to Mr. Dashwood’s office only three times: when she applied for membership, and the two very happy occasions when she’d won wagers large enough that the owner had overseen payment.

Although, after her time with Jack, Sophie began to suspect that it was more likely her sex and not the size of the wager that had brought Mr. Dashwood into those matters. She had won two hundred seventy pounds from Sir Edward Tisdale, and then almost five hundred pounds from a very drunk viscount who stared at her bosom more than at his cards. Someone confided to her later that the viscount claimed she’d dressed indecently to distract him. Sophie hadn’t felt the slightest twinge of guilt over it. Her gowns were no different from any other fashionable lady’s, and if a man allowed himself to be that dazzled by a hint of female flesh, he ought to restrict his gambling to male company. Both men paid, though rather grudgingly in the case of the viscount. Mr. Dashwood had made sure of it.

Sadly, she was not in possession of a winning marker this evening.

Forbes knocked at the last door. “Mrs. Campbell, sir,” he called, then nodded in apparent response to a reply. He stepped back, opening the door wide for her. “Mr. Dashwood will see you, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Forbes,” she murmured, pressing her hands flat against her skirt to steady them. Lifting her chin, she walked into the office.

Mr. Dashwood was on his feet, coming around his desk. “Mrs. Campbell. How good to see you back at Vega’s.”

“Yes,” she said with a smile, as she dipped a shallow curtsy. She had practiced that gracious, unperturbed expression until it came effortlessly, but tonight it was difficult to hold. “It is good to be back.”

He tilted his head, giving her a sharp look. Everything about Dashwood was sharp: his mind, his features, his ambition. He was a ruthless shark in gentleman’s clothes. “You caused a commotion when you left the other evening.”

Sophie drew a quick breath and clasped her hands. She’d known this was coming. “I am sorry for that—-”

“No doubt,” he said, cutting her off. “That’s not the sort of wager I want in my club.”

Her face heated. “Nor is it the sort of wager I delight in making. His Grace insisted, as you heard—-”

“But you agreed.” Dashwood folded his arms and leaned one hip against his desk. His piercing gaze was almost physically uncomfortable to endure, and he wasn’t letting her put out any of her practiced excuses.

“I did,” she conceded in a low voice. “It was a mistake.”

“I hope you won’t make the same mistake again. If that’s the sort of wager you’re after . . .” He shrugged. “There are plenty of places to make them. But not at the Vega Club.”

Sophie’s breath rasped in her throat. Her spine was as stiff as an iron spike, and her face was surely three shades of scarlet. “Nor do I. It—-it was a momentary madness, certainly on my part and, I believe, on His Grace’s. It was not a serious bet—-I had never met His Grace before that night. I suspect he only proposed such a wager to prevent me from playing hazard with his brother, Lord Philip. I believe there had been some unpleasantness over a debt that caused tension between them, and the wager was made in a moment of anger.”

Dashwood cocked one brow skeptically. “A harsh punishment for you. Not so harsh for Lord Philip.”

She blinked rapidly. “As you can see, it was not fulfilled.”

Something like sympathy drifted over his face for a moment. “You’ve not been here since then.”

“I was indisposed,” she said. Colleen had told two people she was ill in bed, which was as good a story as any. Her hands were gripped together so tightly, she couldn’t feel her fingertips. “I struck a bargain with His Grace. In exchange for my promise not to wager with Lord Philip again, he took me home.” That was true, even if it left out mention of the fact that it happened only this morning. “I took a chill in the rain that night, and was confined to bed for a few days.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Rumors are slippery beasts, madam, hard to cage and even harder to put down. I suggest you avoid His Grace so as not to provide succor to any beastly rumors.”

“I assure you, sir, I have no intention of doing anything remotely similar ever again.” But her heart was hammering wildly.

“Very good, Mrs. Campbell,” he replied after a moment. “See that you don’t—-not here, at any rate.”

“Of course not,” she said through dry lips. And then, because she couldn’t let a single instance of suspicion go unchallenged, she added, “I trust your code of conduct for members will cover this.”