My Once and Future Duke (The Wagers of Sin #1)(92)

“I didn’t mention her because I was not engaged to her,” he said.

“Oh?” She selected five cards from her hand, set them aside, and drew five replacements from the cards still in the talon. It was a good draw, as she had expected, full of high cards. “A bit odd that your own family thinks you are.”

Jack tossed aside three cards from his hand and took the remaining talon cards. “My mother hoped I would marry Lucinda, but that is all it ever was—-her hope.”

“No? Is that why you took her for ices at Gunter’s?” Sophie widened her eyes while keeping her attention on her cards. She would not fall for him so easily again. “I have a point of six.”

Jack’s lips tightened. “Good,” he said tersely, admitting he did not have six or more cards of the same suit.

Sophie added a six to her score.

“I had to speak to her and be certain Lucinda also knew there was no betrothal between us,” he added. “Her mother had been telling her for years it was her duty to marry me . . .”

Sophie’s vision burned red around the edges. “Sixième,” she said coldly. She had clubs from seven to queen.

“Good,” said Jack again, after a slight pause. He did not have a longer sequence than six in his hand.

She smiled without meeting his eyes. “That’s a repique for me.” And another thirty points, on top of the sixteen for the sixième. She was at sixty--two before play even began.

“Lucinda couldn’t wait to say that she did not want to marry me,” Jack said in a low, urgent voice. “She even hoped, when I left town a few weeks ago, that I would never come back and she wouldn’t have to see me.” Unthinkingly Sophie glanced at him. He looked pale, but his blue eyes were steady. “I wish we’d never come back from Alwyn House, either.”

Her breath faltered. She had also wished they could have stayed at Alwyn House, just the two of them, forever. She forced her eyes back down to her cards. “But we did,” she pointed out. “Because of duty.”

“Damn duty,” he said with sudden fierceness. “Do you really think I would have proposed that you marry me if I were engaged to Lucinda?”

Her chin quivered before she could stop it. “Philip said you’ve been promised to her for years . . .”

“Philip,” Jack bit out, “is an idiot.”

Her vision blurred, and she had to blink several times. “He said you’d got your heart broken years ago and never recovered. He said you would marry for practical reasons.”

“He was right about that.” Jack dropped his cards. “I think it eminently practical to marry the woman I want to see every morning when I open my eyes. The woman with enough nerve and cleverness to come to London and expect to support herself playing cards, of all the cursed things to depend on. The woman who would get out of a carriage and walk a mile in the rain and mud, and then ask where the dungeons are. The woman I want to have on my arm at balls and soirees, because she’ll make me laugh through the endless tedium. I think it’s the best idea I’ve ever had, marrying you, because it suits my every desire. I love you, Sophie—-only you.”

Sophie was stunned into silence, which was a good thing; it let her mind start working again. The first time he kissed her, she was the one who invited him to make love to her. Back in London, she had broken their promise not to see each other again by seeking him out. When she asked for his help regarding Philip, he went to great lengths to do so—-personally. He hadn’t asked to resume their affair in London, she had invited him to share her carriage and then to stay the night with her. In everything, he had followed her lead, and now she had repaid him by believing the worst of him.

She looked at him, at his perfect face and his elegant clothing and the intense, anguished gaze he leveled at her. Slowly she put down her cards.

She thought about her uncle, admitting he’d never got around to finding a wife because he had no expectations. Of Giles Carter, who seemed so eligible and kind but was also still unmarried, whiling away his nights at the card tables. And of her father, walking away from his family, rank, and wealth because he’d met her mother, standing by her through poverty and sickness and never uttering a word of regret.

Finding someone she loved as much as she loved Jack was a rare stroke of luck. If Sophie knew anything about luck, it was not to waste it.

“You win,” she said, lashing out with one arm to sweep the cards and markers off the table.

Jack was out of his chair and around the table before they hit the floor. He pulled her up and into his arms, capturing her mouth in a scorching kiss.

Sophie thought she might combust right on the spot. She arched against him, winding her arms around his neck so she could kiss him back with equal passion. He growled low in his throat and licked her lower lip until she opened for him. His fingers plowed into her hair as his kiss deepened until she lost all sense of where they were. In her world there was only Jack, and he loved her—-only her.

Finally he lifted his head and clasped her to his chest. Sophie felt the rapid thud of his heart against her temple, and it made her own chest unbearably tight. “Right,” Jack muttered, breathing hard. “Enough of this place.”

His arm still around her waist, he headed toward the hall, carrying her along with him, just as he’d done once before. This time Sophie went willingly, almost running to keep up with his stride as she clutched at his jacket for balance. Dimly she realized people were watching them—-staring in astonishment at them, actually—-but this time she didn’t care at all. Let them stare. She caught sight of Philip and Mr. Hamilton sitting at a table with a bottle of port between them; Mr. Hamilton lifted his glass in salute, but Philip didn’t even look at her.