My Once and Future Duke (The Wagers of Sin #1)(88)
She swiped the back of her hand across her burning eyes. No tears. She’d made mistakes before, and had to pick herself up and dust off her pride; she would recover from this, too. It would hurt, much worse than the time she’d miscalculated her odds and lost four hundred pounds in one night. Much, much worse than when her one previous lover broke with her. At least he’d never proposed, only gave her a very handsome diamond bracelet as a parting gift. She’d sold it for two hundred fifty pounds, a plump addition to her nest egg.
So it would hurt, and her heart might never recover fully, but she would carry on. She had no choice. Perhaps she’d take a holiday to visit Makepeace Manor, as her uncle had offered. Her few memories of it were dark and grim, but this time she might be able to recover some bit of her father and his childhood, before he’d thrown it all away for love . . .
As a girl she’d thought her parents’ story was beautifully romantic. Now she realized how truly lucky they had been. Papa loved her mother just as much as ever when she lost her voice to a persistent cough and could no longer sing. Mama loved him even when he was unable to win enough at the card tables to support them. Their love had survived heartbreak and hardship and endured to their dying days, and Sophie had somehow thought all love could do the same.
Papa, she thought hopelessly, I wish you had warned me how terrible love can be.
Jack arrived at Vega’s later than usual, but in a buoyant mood.
He had a special license in his pocket. It had taken a few hours to procure, but he’d assumed his most ducal demeanor and sent clerks scurrying until he got it.
He had a ring in his pocket as well, a flawless ruby set in a golden band; he liked Sophie in red.
The main reason for his tardy arrival was his mother, who had alternately scolded, wept, and pleaded with him to change his mind. Lady Stowe had broken the news to her earlier, no doubt in a hysterical letter, but Jack still had to weather the storm of her disappointment. When the brunt of it had past, he told her he was unable to marry Lady Lucinda for two reasons: first, that Lucinda didn’t want him, and second, that he wanted someone else.
“Lucinda will see reason,” she cried, trailing after him as he went down the stairs.
“She wants to go to Egypt.” He grinned at the memory of her enthusiasm.
The duchess looked blank. “Egypt? Don’t be ridiculous. Of course she doesn’t. What sort of idea is that for a young lady? She will stay right here in England and do her duty.”
Jack, ready to leave for Vega’s, slid his arms into his coat as Browne held it up. “Her duty does not include wedding me.”
“But your duty is to wed her!”
“No,” he said firmly. “It is not.” She opened her mouth to argue, and Jack held up one hand. “I vowed to Father that I would see that she was cared for. I have done that—-she and her mother have always had a comfortable home, a well--stocked larder, the latest fashions. But she is grown now, with thoughts and ideas of her own, and she does not want to marry someone as old and boring as I.”
“She is still a girl and will heed her mother’s guidance!”
“No, she is a young woman who deserves a chance to choose her own husband.” He gave his mother a quelling look. “That is the end of the matter.”
The duchess’s mouth pinched, and she closed her eyes for a moment. “You’re being hasty and rash, and it’s not like you, Ware. Throwing over Lucinda for a common cardsharp!” She nodded even as he shot her a dark glance. “Of course I heard about that foolish wager—-of course I know you went off to Alwyn with her, and of course I know you’re still seeing her. You’ve been quite unlike yourself lately, and I have no illusions why. Men are the most predictable creatures on earth when it comes to their baser needs. But to bring that woman into this house would shame your father, your grandfather, and every other ancestor who knew his duty and treated marriage with the gravity it deserves.”
He took his hat and gloves from Browne. “Good evening, Mother.”
“You cannot ask me to receive that woman,” she pleaded. “A woman of no name, no connections, no character!”
“That woman has a name, I don’t care about connections, and she has more fortitude and character than half of society put together.” He set the hat on his head as a footman swept open the door. “And if you don’t wish to receive her, have Percy take a new house for you. I expect to bring my bride home within a fortnight.” He ignored her gasp of shock and went out, down the steps and into the carriage waiting for him. He cast a glance at the opposite corner and remembered Sophie, indignant and flustered, badgering him from that seat. His pulse leaped and a slow smile crossed his face at the thought of what he’d do the next time he had her in the carriage with him.
He strode through the door of Vega’s, hardly stopping to leave his coat and hat. Where was she? Tonight he didn’t care a fig for the promise Dashwood had extracted. After tonight, the only gossip that might accrue to Sophie’s name would be about her new place in society, as his wife. After tonight, Dashwood could ban him from Vega’s for life, and Jack wouldn’t give a damn.
A brisk patrol of the club didn’t reveal Sophie, though. He frowned when he reached the main salon again, wondering if she’d stayed home this evening. He’d sent his carriage away, but he could hail a hackney, as he usually did when headed to Sophie’s house . . .