My Once and Future Duke (The Wagers of Sin #1)(54)
Gratefully she rose. She had taken the first step by returning to Vega’s tonight. That was enough for now. Tomorrow some of the surprise would have died down, and the day after, even more; soon she would be treated more normally again. And leaving now could be excused not as cowardice—-which it was—-but as a lingering weakness from her fictitious malady. “You are so kind to offer, Mr. Carter, but I think I ought to return home. It seems I’m not as recovered as I thought. I feel a headache coming on.”
“Of course. You look rather pale.” He offered his arm, which she gratefully took, and they circled the room, heading discreetly for the door. Philip was nowhere to be seen, to her immense relief. He must have gone into another room. Jack would be furious at him—-but that was not her concern, or her problem to solve. Sophie just wanted to go home. She really might be falling ill this time.
They had nearly reached the stand of palms near the manager’s office when someone stepped in front of her.
“There you are, Mrs. Campbell.”
She jolted and barely restrained a small scream of surprise. Philip Lindeville gave a bow so deferential it was almost mocking. He’d spoken loudly and warmly, and she heard the pause in the room noise as everyone turned to look. She had no choice: face him or risk another scene. Gritting her teeth, she curtsied. “Good evening, sir.”
“Indeed it is, to see you.” His gaze flicked to the man beside her. “Good evening, Carter.”
He gave a tight nod. “Lindeville. You must pardon us. I was about to see Mrs. Campbell home.”
His eyebrows rose in exaggerated surprise. “Home? Surely not. It’s not even ten o’clock, and the lady hasn’t been at Vega’s in several nights. Don’t deny the rest of us the pleasure of her company.”
“You flatter me, sir,” she said, smiling as best she could. Act normally. “But to my great regret, I feel unwell.”
“Good heavens.” He rocked back on his heels. “After you’ve been ill these last several days? I’m growing concerned, Mrs. Campbell.”
And the eavesdroppers were growing interested. How cruel it would be if she single--handedly brought down Vega’s pledge of secrecy by being so scandalous no one could resist gossiping about it. “How kind of you, my lord, but unnecessary. It is nothing more than a headache,” she said firmly, keeping her voice low. “I’m sure a good night’s sleep is all I need.”
“No, no, a glass of wine shall restore you.” He reached for her arm, subtly edging Giles Carter aside. “Say you’ll stay.”
Sophie stubbornly resisted and looked him full in the face—-his face, enough like Jack’s to make her heart twist. “Not tonight, sir.”
“The lady said no, Lindeville,” said Carter quietly.
Philip’s eyes grew dark and turbulent, and his mouth pulled into a hard line. “Perhaps we should send for a doctor. It seems very serious, this illness—-it’s lasted several days, and it came upon you very suddenly, didn’t it?” He cocked his head. “Right about the time my brother appeared.” A sardonic smile crossed his face. “Although I find his presence also makes me feel ill of late.”
“Oh no,” she said, pretending he hadn’t spoken suspiciously and angrily. “I wasn’t seriously ill—-only a cold, miserable as they are. I may have overtaxed myself by coming out tonight.”
Philip glanced at her companion. “Carter, be a sport and give me a moment with Mrs. Campbell.” When Carter scowled, Philip laid one hand over his heart. “I’ve been worried about her.”
He was going to make a scene; he was already making one. Sophie gave Mr. Carter a slight nod, and after a moment he stepped backward and bowed. His expression was inscrutable. “I see. Good evening, Mrs. Campbell.”
With a sinking heart, Sophie watched him walk away. She turned to Philip and reminded herself that she could not slap him, no matter how much he deserved it. How had she let this spoiled, arrogant young man have such sway over her life? “My head is aching already, and I haven’t the strength to argue with you.”
He looked offended as he pulled her hand around his elbow. “There won’t be an argument. I only want to talk.” He led her to one of the small sofas at the edge of the room. It was still in the main salon, but far from the hazard and faro tables, where the crowd was concentrated.
“Lord Philip,” she began as soon as she took a seat, “this cannot contin—-”
He raised one hand in a gesture so like Jack, she stopped midword. “Answer one question. I have to know. Did my brother do anything offensive to you?” His tone implied suspicion of all manner of abuse and humiliation.
She snapped her mouth shut before she could give herself away by springing violently to Jack’s defense. “No.”
“Nothing?” He pressed her hand between his. “If he did, I will make him regret it.”
Sophie tugged her hands free of his grip. “Philip, this is madness.”
He scowled. “What?”
“You’re making a spectacle of me,” she said bluntly. “Of yourself. Please stop.”
“Mrs. Campbell—-Sophie,” he protested. “I would never do such a thing.”
She looked at him in reproach. “Think, my lord. You insist I stay and talk with you. You turn away Mr. Carter, who was merely escorting me to the hall so I could have Mr. Forbes summon a hackney. The other night you interrupted a perfectly cordial game of whist I was playing with Mr. Whitley and Mr. Fraser and insisted I play hazard with you instead.”