My Once and Future Duke (The Wagers of Sin #1)(56)

He turned. She wore dark gray, a black veil over her bonnet, but as soon as the butler closed the door she threw it off. And Jack felt like he could breathe again, for the first time in five days, at the sight of her face.

“Your Grace,” she murmured, dropping her extravagant curtsy.

“Mrs. Campbell.” He bowed. As if they were polite acquaintances, not one--time lovers. “Won’t you come in?”

“Thank you for seeing me. I am sorry to disturb you.” She came into the room and removed her bonnet. Her hair was pinned up in a severe knot, and he longed to pull out the pins and see it streaming down her back again.

He cleared his throat and tried to banish the image of her with her unbound hair spread across his pillows. “Not at all.”

She faced him, somber and beautiful, and his knuckles grew white, gripping the edge of the desk behind him. If he didn’t anchor himself somehow, he would never be able to keep his distance from her. “Something must be done about Philip.”

Jack thought he’d misheard. “What about him?” he growled.

“He will not leave me alone,” she said, her voice tight. “Everywhere I go, he appears. I have told him several times I won’t wager with him anymore, so he merely follows me. He gambles wildly, and I suspect he’s losing a great deal. The other night I heard him blame his bad play on the loss of Lady Luck’s affections, and then he turned to look quite pointedly at me—-causing everyone else to look at me, too. He is making me and himself objects of gossip and speculation.”

Jack let out his breath. Curse Philip. “I will speak to him.”

Pink rose in her cheeks. “I’m not certain that will be enough. I tried speaking to him, and then I tried not speaking to him. Others have tried to reason with him as well, all to no effect. He is angry, and he’s not making any effort to hide it.”

Jack wanted to know, intensely, who else had spoken on her behalf. “And you think my words will have no greater impact.”

She hesitated, wetting her lips. Helplessly he watched, wishing he were the one tasting her mouth. “He’s angry at you,” she said softly.

“That is normal.” Philip was usually annoyed at him over something.

“No.” Sophie shook her head, seeming to understand what he meant. “He is jealous. He demanded to know what happened between us.”

His muscles tensed. “What did you tell him?” His brother—-the world—-mustn’t know the truth, and yet something deep inside him rebelled at the thought of saying nothing had happened between him and Sophie. Damn it, he wanted her and he wanted everyone to know she was his—-

Except that she wasn’t. And he had given his word.

“I told him it was none of his concern!” she exclaimed. “He came to call twice at my house while I was . . . away. My maid told him I was ill, but he wasn’t fully convinced. He makes insinuations and suggestive comments, fishing for information. I have tried my best to avoid him, but he’s persistent.”

“What does he hope to achieve?”

“I have no idea!” She took a deep breath and lowered her voice. “He is making me an object of speculation.” She nibbled her lip, then continued, looking deeply uneasy, “He implied I had been your whore.”

Jack came off the edge of the desk, hands in fists. “When?”

“Last night. He was drinking. I don’t think anyone else heard, but it’s only a matter of time—-”

“I don’t give a damn what his excuse is,” he retorted. “That is utterly unacceptable.”

For the first time a tremulous smile appeared on her face. Jack’s fury subsided, and he was beside her before he even realized he was moving. “It won’t happen again,” he said, and then—-unable to resist any longer—-he smoothed a loose wisp of hair from her temple. “I give you my word.”

“How?” Her eyes were warily hopeful. “Can you keep him from Vega’s?”

Jack wound the tendril around his fingertip. He probably couldn’t bar his brother from Vega’s, not without posting a servant outside the club with orders to physically restrain Philip from entering. Dashwood might not be pleased about that. “I can prevent him bothering you. You may depend on that.” He had no idea how, but right now all that mattered was reassuring her.

The tension went out of her. Her smile grew radiant, and she gazed at him with open adoration. “Thank you. I didn’t know what else to do.”

God. It hadn’t even been a week, and it felt like a decade. He touched her chin, then tipped her face up to him. “It’s the least I can offer.” And he kissed her, cupping his hands around her face when her mouth softened under his.

She went up on her toes, clinging to his arms, and kissed him back. Something in his soul stirred possessively. He had not got over her at all. Perhaps he never would.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathed in her ear, brushing his lips over the pulse throbbing faintly at her temple.

“And I you,” she said on a sigh. “Oh, Jack . . .” Her arms went around his neck, and she threaded her fingers into his hair.

Jack gathered her to him. The feel of her body, the scent of her skin went straight to his head, like the most potent whisky drunk too quickly. But no—-that wasn’t right. This wasn’t a passing condition that would be cured when he woke up in the morning. He’d been waiting five long days for that to happen, and when it hadn’t, he burned for an excuse, any at all, to see her again. Not even Philip’s appalling behavior could make him sorry that she was here.