My Once and Future Duke (The Wagers of Sin #1)(64)

“I must.” He reached for his neckcloth and looped it around his collar.

The reckless fluttering in her chest stopped. She let out her breath silently, thinking that he had saved her from herself. “I know.”

She stared up into the dark and listened to the quiet sounds of him dressing. The floor creaked faintly when he stepped back over to the bed. “When will I see you again?” He sat on the edge of the mattress and leaned down to kiss her, his hand falling on her bare breast for a lingering caress. “Give me a time and day, darling.”

“Jack.” Sophie pushed herself up on the pillows to ward off the temptation to pull him back down with her one more time, the returning hack be damned. “I go to Vega’s most nights between eight and nine o’clock.”

His blue eyes were fixed on her. “When do you leave?”

“Usually not before three o’clock.” His fingers were playing along her ribs, and she shivered. “But that is quite late. I’ve been considering leaving sooner . . .”

“One o’clock,” he whispered. “Leave at one. I’ll find my own way here.”

“What if—-?” she began.

“You don’t want me?” He smiled ruefully. “Don’t leave at one. Leave earlier or leave later, and I will know not to come.”

“How will you know when I leave?”

He touched one fingertip to her lips. “I pay attention—-especially to you. It’s not hard to watch someone else when you’re not watching any cards.”

Sophie pursed her lips and kissed his finger. “You might consider playing a hand now and then. It’s a gaming club, and you’ll be thought odd if you never play at all.”

He arched one brow, amused. “Will I be?”

“I don’t mean you should wager heavily,” she added, “only that it will attract notice if you never wager at all.”

“Thank you for the counsel. I shall consider it.” He kissed her again, first lightly, then deeper and harder until she sighed in pleasure.

She had to get up to walk him out and bar the door for the night. Wearing only her dressing gown, she followed him down the narrow stairs into the tiny hall. There he took her into his arms and simply held her. She pressed her cheek to his chest, once more covered in perfectly tailored linen and wool, and felt her heart swell.

“Good night, darling,” Jack whispered, his lips against her forehead. “Until tomorrow night.”

“Good night, Jack.” She let him out, watching for a moment as he strode away, tall and far too elegant for her modest street. She closed the door and shot the bolt again.

It was only an affair. It would last only a short while. But by God, she would try to savor every blissful moment of it.





Chapter 19




Jack met the waiting hackney in Tottenham Court Road, around the corner from Sophie’s house. Her little home was in a quiet street, and he didn’t want to attract any notice. It had been years since he’d been out in London so late. He leaned back against the thin, shabby seat, and a smile spread over his face at the memory of Sophie in her flower--printed dressing gown, with nothing underneath. He much preferred her in his banyan. Perhaps he ought to send it to her . . .

He stopped that thought. Of course he couldn’t do that. This liaison between them was to be a secret. Only an idiot could have missed the way her mood dimmed abruptly when he said he would accept any condition she set upon their affair. She didn’t want anyone to know about them because it would spoil her reputation; she still hoped to marry someone else. His mood dropped another notch at the thought of her in another man’s arms, a man she loved. And he would have to sit by and watch it happen.

But he had promised to keep their relationship secret. It was becoming clear to him that Sophie kept many secrets.

He muttered a heartfelt curse in the silence of the hackney. Gaining admission to Vega’s might prove to be the death of him. Philip had been furious to see him arrive, but two short sentences put his brother in his place. As much as Philip might chafe at his presence, Jack made it clear he wasn’t budging. Philip could avoid him by avoiding Vega’s.

His brother’s eyes had narrowed, and he’d leaned closer. “You’re here because of her.”

“Do you mean Mrs. Campbell?” Jack had coolly replied. “Yes. I’ve heard rumors you are making a spectacle of yourself chasing after her, and that must stop—-as must your losses. If you can’t keep yourself away, I shall do it for you.”

His brother had glared and muttered, but in the end he hadn’t gone near Sophie. Jack had kept Philip in view all night, so he was certain of that much. And eventually, as hoped, he’d spied Sophie herself. The charge that went through him at the sight of her lasted only a moment, though, because there was a man with her. A man who stood familiarly close, who spoke to her and made her smile. A man who offered her his arm and escorted her away, out of Jack’s view, causing a tidal wave of black and bitter jealousy to rush over him.

It took only a few subtle hints to elicit the man’s name: Giles Carter, a gentleman of respectable family and fortune. No one had an unkind thing to say about him; in fact, he was well--regarded by the patrons of the Vega Club as honorable, sensible, and even somewhat witty. He had seen with his own eyes that the fellow wasn’t ugly or misshapen, and he made Sophie smile. Jack positively ached to punch him in the face. And even though she claimed Carter was merely a friend, that would change in the blink of an eye if she encouraged the man. Carter’s interest was patently obvious, even from across the room.