My Once and Future Duke (The Wagers of Sin #1)(58)

“If you will not cut off my brother from your tables, he risks ruin,” Jack went on. “I cannot stop him from degrading his own name and prospects, but I will not stand by and see him become a stain on my name. Admit me to your club, so that I can keep an eye on his activities and intervene as necessary to prevent him losing what he cannot pay to your other patrons.”

Dashwood didn’t bat an eye. “I could be persuaded to allow it—-on your own merits, of course. There is one matter, though, which gives me pause.”

Jack had a good guess what the matter was. He propped one hand on his hip to hide how it had curled into a fist. “Oh?” he drawled.

The club owner looked him in the eye. “Mrs. Campbell.”

That was the one. Jack kept his face impassive. “Who?” he said in a tone of mild scorn.

“The lady you gambled with—-very inappropriately—-the last time you were here, Your Grace.” Dashwood’s smile was thin but dangerous.

Jack dismissed her with a flick of his fingers. He mustn’t give any sign that he even remembered who she was. “Ah. Her. I acted only to separate her from my brother, whom she appeared intent upon fleecing.”

“She is still a member of this club. I won’t have you harassing her or any other lady here.”

Jack drew himself upright and glared at the man with all the ducal arrogance he possessed. “You forget yourself, Dashwood.”

“That’s my condition,” replied Dashwood, relatively unperturbed. “I don’t want that kind of wagering in my club, not from you or anyone else. And you’ll keep your distance from Mrs. Campbell in particular.”

“Obviously,” he said, the word like frost on his lips. If only Dashwood knew—-Jack was tolerating this insulting conversation solely for Sophie’s sake. He’d let Philip twist in the wind, if his brother would show some basic honor and leave her alone. “Then we are agreed.” He picked up his hat and turned to go. “I shall attend this evening.”

“I’ll see that Forbes has your name.”

Jack gave a nod and left. Not until he swung into the saddle and headed home did he allow himself to think about the very much intended consequence of this maneuver. He had got himself admitted to Vega’s, where he would be able to keep an eye on Philip and prevent him from harassing Sophie. And to do that . . .

He would get to see her, as well.





Chapter 17




Sophie walked through the doors of Vega’s two nights later with some trepidation. She was not hopeful that Jack would have persuaded Philip to leave her in peace. Every time she went, he’d been there, as if waiting for her, watching everything she did.

It was both alarming and puzzling. Surely he couldn’t have felt such an attachment to her based only on their convivial habit of gambling together. As Jack had pointed out, she won more from Philip than he won from her. He himself had been the cause of the scene that led to Jack’s outrageous wager. If anything, he ought to have apologized to her when next they met.

Instead he was suspicious and possessive in a way he had never been before. It all made her believe that his anger was more at Jack than at her. Sophie had never had a sibling, and a small piece of her heart ached that the two brothers seemed permanently at odds now, after a close youth. Unfortunately, she couldn’t say any of that to Philip without belying her claim to have been ill in bed instead of off in Chiswick making love with his brother, and since that prospect was what had enraged him so . . . She was helpless.

Tonight she headed for the whist tables. Hazard had lost all appeal, and faro was nearly as bad. Whist was quieter, and somehow more peaceful—-she had to keep her mind focused on the cards to play well, which prevented her thinking about Jack, and how he had crossed the room in two strides to take her in his arms and kiss her, and how she would have begged him to make love to her one last time there on the desk if someone hadn’t knocked on the door and startled her out of the haze of desire. She’d thought, after a few days apart, that her attraction to him would have lessened, or at least been manageable. Instead, it flared hotter than ever the instant she set eyes on him.

“Mrs. Campbell!”

She gave a violent start at the exclamation. “My goodness,” she gasped, clapping one hand to her breast. “You startled me, sir.”

Fergus Fraser grinned. He was charming enough, though terribly shallow. His grandfather was a Scottish lord, and Mr. Fraser had been living on that connection as long as Sophie had known him. She suspected his purpose at Vega’s was similar to her own—-to win a fortune, or at least a decent income. “ ’Twas not my intent. I only came to deliver a message from a mutual friend.”

She tensed. They had several acquaintances in common, but chief among them was Philip Lindeville. “Oh?”

He handed over a folded note with a flourish. “I’m to bid you to read it privately, and if you wish to send a reply, I shall be pleased to deliver it.”

It was Philip’s handwriting on the front, spelling out her name in swooping letters. She tapped it against her palm and gave Mr. Fraser a smile of dismissal. “Thank you, sir. That is very kind of you.”

With a lazily elegant bow, he excused himself and wandered away. Sophie watched where he headed from beneath her eyelashes. The vingt--un room, one of Philip’s favorites. Stepping closer to the wall, she broke the seal on the note and read it.