No Good Duke Goes Unpunished (The Rules of Scoundrels #3)(58)

“It is not unheard of. I once awoke to a woman in my office. I assure you, she had not been invited. And only yesterday, I found her on the floor of the casino.”

She smiled at the reference. “She sounds like a special case.”

Indeed.

“I do not care for the idea that you might have to flee from some nefarious character.”

He resisted the thrum of pleasure that coursed through him at the idea that she might care for him at all. “Do not concern yourself. I rarely flee.”

He moved past her, rounding the table to put distance and mahogany between them. She stayed where she was. “Does this room have one?”

“Maybe.”

She looked around, eyes narrowed, carefully considering each stretch of wall. “And if it did, where would it lead?”

He ignored the question, reaching for the dice on the hazard table, lifting them, testing their weight. “Would you like to ask questions about the architecture? Or would you like your lesson?”

Her gaze did not waver. “Both.”

The answer did not surprise him. Philippa Marbury was a woman so intrigued by knowledge that she would find it tempting on a variety of topics—not simply sex. Unfortunately, her innate curiosity was one of the most tempting things he’d ever experienced.

His goal for the evening returned.

She had to lose.

If she lost, he could regain his sanity.

Reclaim his control.

That alone was worth it.

He tossed the dice in her direction. “Both it is.”

Her eyes lit as though he’d just offered her jewels. “Who were the women outside?”

He shook his head. “It’s not that easy, Pippa. The lesson is about temptation. You want to know more . . . you have to win it.”

“Fine.”

“And you have to wager.”

She nodded once. “I have five pounds in my reticule.”

He smirked. “Five pounds will not do. It is not enough for the lesson for which you ask.”

“What, then? I have nothing else of value.”

You have your clothing. It took everything in his power not to say the words. “I would like to buy back your time.”

Confusion furrowed her brow. “My time?”

He nodded. “If you win, I tell you what you wish to know. If you lose, you lose time for this insane research project. There are what, eleven days left before you marry?”

There were ten. He had deliberately miscalculated.

She corrected him, then shook her head firmly. “We have an agreement.”

Perhaps, but he had all the power. At least, in her mind. “Then I suppose there is no lesson.”

“You said you wouldn’t renege. You promised.”

“And as I said before, my lady, scoundrels lie.” Not always because of their nature, he was realizing. Sometimes they lied to preserve their sanity. He moved for the door. “I shall send someone with a hooded cloak to escort you from the club and return you home.”

He was at the door, hand to handle, when she said, “Wait.”

He steeled his countenance and turned back. “Yes?”

“The only way I get my lesson is to wager?”

“Think of it as double the research. Lessons in gaming are an adventure many women would not pass up.”

“It’s not an adventure. It’s research. How many times must I tell you?”

“Call it whatever you like, Pippa. Either way, it’s something you desire.”

She looked to the hazard table, longing in her gaze, and he knew he’d won. “I want the gaming.”

“This is it, Pippa.”

She met his gaze. “My first lesson in temptation.”

Clever girl. “All or nothing.”

She nodded. “All.”

Clever, doomed girl.

He moved back to the table and handed her a pair of ivory dice. “On the first roll at the Angel, a seven or eleven wins. Roll a two or three, and lose.”

Her brows rose. “Only a two or three? How did I lose on a nine during our first meeting?”

He couldn’t stop his smirk. “You offered better odds; I took them.”

“I suppose I should know better, gaming with a scoundrel.”

He tilted his head toward her. “I imagine you’ve learned the lesson since.”

She met his gaze, eyes large behind her spectacles. “I’m not so sure.”

The honest words went straight through him, bringing desire and something even more base with them. Before he could reply, she was casting the dice.

“Nine,” she said. “My lucky number?”

“Already an inveterate gamer.” He collected the dice and handed them back to her. “The play is simple. Roll a nine again, and you win. Roll a seven, and you lose.”

“I thought a seven was a win.”

“Only on the first roll. Now you’ve established that your main is nine.”

She shook her head. “I don’t care for those rules. You know as well as I that the odds of rolling a seven are better than of doing the same with any other number.”

“Care for them or not, those are the rules to which you agreed when you chose hazard.”

“I didn’t chose it,” she grumbled, even as she tested the dice in her palm. She wasn’t leaving.