My Once and Future Duke (The Wagers of Sin #1)(76)

“I did,” Jack baldly admitted. “Nothing else I did got through to you. Philip, you’re flirting with ruin. I’m not speaking of Mrs. Campbell, but the gaming. A public spectacle and the loss of her company are small prices to pay if you quit the tables now.”

“Quit!”

“At least moderate your play,” Jack argued. “For your own sake, but think of Mother, as well. She indulges you, but even her patience will run out eventually.”

“Moderate!” Philip flung himself into a chair moodily. “What does that mean? If I stop when I lose, it will only ensure I never win it back.”

“It astonishes me that I’m about to say this,” Jack said, thinking of what Sophie had said about Philip’s play, “but you might try learning more skill. You play poorly, and then you become reckless, and that’s why your losses are so crippling.”

His brother’s mouth dropped open. “Are you suggesting I take lessons? For hazard and vingt--un?”

“Think of it as improving your odds.”

Philip was still staring at him as if he’d sprouted horns and a tail. “Are you mad? A gambling tutor?”

“Are you mad, to keep playing as lackadaisically as you have been?” Jack shot back. “What do you expect will happen? Playing badly time after time after time doesn’t give you a chance to win back your stake, it causes you to lose more and more. If you won’t give it up entirely, or even moderate your wagering, at least learn to play the bloody odds!”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then, as Jack began to think the gambit had failed utterly, Philip muttered, “Well, I suppose a little practice couldn’t hurt.”

Jack ignored the fact that he had just encouraged his brother to become a better gambler, which would only lead him to wager more often instead of less. “Of course not. Buck up, man,” he said bracingly. “It’s not like learning Latin all over again.”

That elicited a sharp bark of laughter from his brother. “Thank God for it.” He looked at Jack without animosity, for the first time in weeks. “How does one locate a gambling tutor?”

Jack thought of Sophie patiently listing the odds of hazard rolls, and watching the cards so intently in vingt--un. He lifted one shoulder and turned toward the door. “Ask a clever player.”

Philip laughed. “I know just the one! Mrs. Campbell plays better than any bloke I know. I’ll ask her.”

The name caught him off guard. “No,” he said instantly. “Not Sophie.”

“I knew it.” Philip leaped to his feet. “This is about her.”

Damn it. He’d given himself away by saying her name. Slowly Jack turned around to face his brother again. “No,” he repeated. “You’re not to speak to her.”

Philip gave a bark of incredulous laughter. “I’m not to speak to her, even about something like cards—-you stand over my shoulder every night to make certain I keep my distance—-but not because you have any interest in her! No, you goaded her to play hazard with you after humiliating me in front of the entire club, then you whisked her out of the club and set tongues wagging about her morals.” He shook his head in disgust. “Lie to yourself if you want, but don’t tell me you don’t want her.”

“That is not your concern,” Jack bit out.

“No?” Philip scoffed. “She was my friend before you ever set eyes on her. How do you have more claim on her than I do?”

“Not one more word about her.” His temper was hanging by a thread. He turned on his heel and reached for the door.

“She deserves better, Ware.”

He stopped. His brother’s voice rang with warning. Philip stood like a fighter ready to box, feet wide, hands loose at his sides. “You’re hardly the one to decide what she deserves.”

“Neither are you!”

Jack recoiled.

Philip glared. “You’ve already done enough to her, don’t you think?”

“What the hell does that mean?” he growled.

“Dragging her off to Alwyn House like a Roman with a Sabine woman?” Jack gave a small but perceptible start. “I’m not the only one who doubts the story she spread, although I may be the only one who knows you like to slip away to Alwyn for a few days now and then. Very conveniently near, for a secluded seduction.”

Jack took a step toward his brother. It had been years since they fought physically, but his hands were in fists and his muscles were taut. “Close your bloody mouth.”

“I have a bit of advice for you,” his brother continued, “since you’ve been so generous with yours today. Sophie Campbell isn’t going to be your mistress, so you can give up hope there.”

“Shut it,” he growled.

“No, I will not,” his brother snapped back. “Give her up. And do it before you announce your engagement, for God’s sake.”

Jack froze. “What?”

His brother shook his head, scorn written on his face. “Mother told me about it. Sophie won’t have anything to do with you once she knows. She turns away every married man who approaches her.”

“I am not engaged,” said Jack, his heart beginning to thud.

Philip raised his eyebrows in patent skepticism. “Almost engaged is nearly the same as married, among the ton. You know that.”