No Good Duke Goes Unpunished (The Rules of Scoundrels #3)(65)

And he was likely not the kind of man to be happy that she’d just tumbled through the wall and into his office . . . and if what she had overheard was to be believed . . . into a very private conversation.

I will never let him hurt you.

Even through the wall, she’d heard the fierceness in his tone. The commitment. Even through the wall, she’d felt the words like a blow. He clearly cared for the lady. Cared for her enough to leave Pippa in a locked room and go to her.

She shouldn’t be upset. After all, theirs was a partnership, not a relationship.

This was no time for jealousy. No place for it. There was no jealousy in science.

Except, apparently, there was.

She shouldn’t be jealous. She should be angry. He’d defiled their agreement by cheating her with weighted dice and wicked lies. Yes. In fact, that was why she had come here furious, was it not? If she was upset, it should be for that reason, and nothing else.

Certainly not because he’d left her to come for this lady.

She should not be upset about that at all.

And yet, that seemed to be precisely the reason for her upset.

Curious, that.

Once the passageway was closed, she spun back to face Mr. Cross and Lady Dunblade. Taking in the fury on his face and the shock on hers, Pippa said the first thing that came to mind. “I am sorry to interrupt.”

There was a beat, as they heard the words, before they both spoke.

“We are through,” said the lady, shoulders squaring as she seemed to remember where she was, backing toward the door. “I am leaving.”

“What in hell are you doing inside that passageway? I told you not to move from that room,” said Mr. Cross at the same time.

“You left me in a locked room and expected me not to attempt to escape?” Pippa said, unable to keep the frustration from her tone.

“I expect you to keep yourself safe from harm.”

Her eyes went wide. “What harm could possibly come to me?”

“In a dark, secret passageway in a gaming hell? You’re right. No harm indeed.”

She took a step back. “Sarcasm does not become you, Mr. Cross.”

He shook his head in frustration and turned to Lady Dunblade, who had reached the door. “You are not leaving.”

The lady’s gaze narrowed. “We are through. I have delivered my message. And I am most definitely leaving.”

Pippa pressed back against the painting through which she’d come, as Cross took a step toward Lady Dunblade, the emotion in his words obvious. “Lavinia—” he started before she held up a hand and stopped him.

“No. You made this choice. You cannot change the past.”

“It is not the past I wish to change, dammit. It is the future.”

Lavinia turned and made for the door that led to the floor of the casino. “The future is not yours to affect.”

Pippa watched them, head turning from one to the other, as though they were in a badminton match, questions rising, desperate for facts. What had happened in their past? What was happening now to threaten their future? How were they connected?

And there, seeking her answer, she discovered the anguish in his gaze.

He loved her.

She stiffened at the last, the thought unsettling and unpleasant.

Lavinia’s hand settled on the door handle and Cross swore. “Goddammit, Lavinia. Half of London is out there. If you’re seen, you’ll be ruined.”

She looked over her shoulder. “Am I not already on that path?”

What did that mean?

His gaze narrowed. “Not if I can stop it. I shall take you home.”

Lavinia looked to Pippa. “And Lady Philippa?”

He turned to Pippa, surprise in his gaze, as though he’d forgotten she was there. She ignored the disappointment that flared at the thought. “I shall take you both home.”

Pippa shook her head. Whatever was happening here with Lady Dunblade, it did not change Pippa’s plans for the evening. Ignoring the weight in her chest at her earlier discovery—a pang that was becoming familiar—she said, “I am not interested in returning home.”

At the same time, Lavinia said, “I will not go anywhere with you.”

He reached for one of several pulls on the wall behind him, yanking it with more force than necessary. “I will not force you to stay, but I will not allow you to destroy yourself either. You will have an escort home.”

Bitterness laced the baroness’s tone. “Once more, you leave me in the hands of another.”

Cross went ashen at the words; the room was suddenly too small, and Pippa was out of place. There was something so connected about these two, in the way they faced each other, neither one willing to back down. There was a similarity in them—in the way they stood tall and refused to cow.

There was no doubt they had a past. No doubt they’d known each other for years.

No doubt there had been a time they cared for each other.

Still did, perhaps.

The thought had Pippa wishing she could crawl back into the painting and find another way out of the club. She turned to do just that, pulling once on the heavy frame, preferring that empty, locked hazard room to this.

But this time, when the painting swung open, it was to reveal a man in the passageway. The enormous brown-skinned man seemed as surprised by Pippa as she was by him. They stared at each other for a moment before she blurted, “Excuse me. I should like to get past.”