My Once and Future Duke (The Wagers of Sin #1)(77)
Damn it. Damn it to hell. Jack concentrated on breathing deeply as his thoughts caromed from his mother to Lucinda to Sophie—-Sophie, who would feel cruelly betrayed if she heard that rumor. He had to put a stop to this nonsense before it got out of control and ruined whatever chance he had to persuade her that he hadn’t deceived her and wanted her, not Lucinda or any other woman. “You should avoid idle gossip,” he said coldly.
His brother spread his hands. “Idle? Mother says it will happen, and we both know you always let her have her way in the end. She’ll spread the news all over London within days, if she hasn’t already, and I know you—-you’re too honorable to throw Lucinda over then.” Philip leaned forward, his dark eyes deadly serious. “I’m offering you some well--intentioned advice—-forget Sophie. Leave her alone. You ruined my chances with her—-fine—-but she deserves better than you, too.”
Chapter 23
Eliza’s words played over and over inside Sophie’s head.
She had formulated her Grand Plan at the age of eighteen or nineteen, while darning Lady Fox’s best lace mitts for twenty pounds a year as a hired companion. Sitting quietly behind Lady Fox, watching her flirt and have affairs with men half her age, Sophie had distilled her own goals into a short, simple list: security, companionship, and a family. She hated worrying about how she might keep a roof over her head if her elderly employer died. She hated watching other young ladies her age smile and dance with gentlemen before becoming wives and mothers, while knowing such a fate was unlikely for her. She hated being alone. Her friends were wonderful and loyal, but Sophie knew very well it would not be long before Eliza and Georgiana both had husbands and children of their own. Having lost her only family at the age of twelve, Sophie could think of nothing she wanted more than a comfortable home with a husband who was fond of her and a child or two to brighten her life.
To have a family, she needed a husband. To get a husband, she needed a fortune. To gain a fortune, she turned to the card tables. And so far, everything had been proceeding according to that plan . . . until Jack.
Eliza suggested he could be the solution to her Grand Plan. Even as Sophie denied it, the idea didn’t need much encouragement to take root and flourish in her mind. Why couldn’t he be? The odds might not be high, but they weren’t zero. Sometimes one had to chance long odds, when the reward was tantalizing enough.
When the clock struck one, she rose from the whist table at Vega’s and collected her winnings, fending off protests at her early departure with a smile. Without fanfare she went and collected her cloak, asked Mr. Forbes to fetch her a hackney and left, exactly as she did every other night. At her house she let herself in and waited, pacing circles around her parlor.
She would start with the worst—-her gambling—-and progress from there. Eliza was right, and she either needed to trust him enough with the truth, or break things off with him because she couldn’t trust him.
Within minutes there was a soft knock upon the door. Her heart jumped into her throat as she hurried to open it. He stepped over the threshold and caught her in his arms.
“I’ve been watching the clock for hours,” he whispered, his hands in her hair. “I thought it would never reach one o’clock.”
Her pulse beat wildly. She cupped her hands around his jaw and kissed him, her lips lingering on his. To hell with the odds. She loved him—-she trusted him. Eliza was right. If she wanted more from him, she had to be honest. Flushed, nervous and hopeful at the same time, she put her hands on his chest. “Nor did I. I’ve been waiting all day to talk to you.”
He stiffened with a perceptible jerk. “Oh?”
The wariness in that word gave her pause, but Sophie banished it and forged on. “There is something I must tell you, before things grow even more complicated between us.”
Instead of answering, he closed his eyes and pulled her close again, holding her as if they were about to be parted. “Must you?” he whispered, his lips against her forehead.
Her mind raced and her heart sank. What did that mean? He was clearly dreading it. “Do you not want to know?”
His chest heaved with a silent sigh, then he released her. “Anything you want to tell me, I want to know.”
Sophie didn’t move. “Jack, what is wrong?”
He took her hand and studied it, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. “It’s been a trying day.” He flashed her a wry smile, looking for a moment as he had at Alwyn House. “Thanks to my mother and Philip, not you.”
“Oh.” She exhaled and gave a small laugh in relief. “I’m very sorry to hear they made life difficult.”
“Now that I am here with you, I don’t give a damn about them.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her temple, and they walked into the parlor and sat on the sofa, never letting go of each other.
“I think you have suspected me of having secrets for some time now, and you’re right—-although perhaps not for the right reason,” she began. “I have not been completely honest with you.”
Jack cleared his throat. “Secrets.”
“Yes.” She hesitated. “The first one is that my name isn’t Campbell. Mr. Campbell is a myth, as well.” She watched his face closely but saw no sign of horror or disgust there. “I invented him because I wanted a fresh start when I came to London, and a widow is allowed so much more freedom.”