My Once and Future Duke (The Wagers of Sin #1)(6)
To his shock, he did spy his brother’s dark head at the center of the room, in a small crowd of people gathered around a table. Jack stopped short. Already Philip was back at it, placing wagers he couldn’t afford, no doubt telling anyone who asked that his brother would pay his losses tonight, tomorrow, on into eternity. As he watched, a cheer broke out, and Philip threw up his hands and laughed.
Jack knew that mannerism. Philip was losing. He always lost with a laugh, a quip, a grandiose gesture. It was only later, when he had to contemplate the consequences of his loss, that he became contrite. Having just settled a very large gambling loss, Jack felt fully in the right dragging his brother out of the club before he could incur another one—-which, Jack realized with fury, he was quite likely to do. Philip was playing hazard, a game of almost pure chance. He turned on his heel and brushed by Dashwood as he strode into the room.
“If I must lose,” Philip declared gallantly as he drew nearer, “at least I’m losing to the most beautiful woman in London.” The crowd around him laughed in boisterous appreciation.
Idiot, Jack seethed, barging through the crowd. You don’t have to lose, you just have to stop playing. Dashwood would cancel his membership if Jack refused to pay this debt. In fact, Jack would have no qualms getting his brother’s gaming privileges revoked across London. He had accepted that his life was to be given in service to the Ware estates, but damned if he’d beggar himself settling Philip’s debts.
He reached the front of the crowd, unfortunately opposite his brother. Oblivious to his glowering presence, Philip gave an extravagant bow and held out the dice to a woman—-the same woman in crimson who’d been playing cards earlier with Philip’s feckless friends.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, her words colored with laughter. “It’s always a pleasure winning from you.” She turned to face the table and raised the dice to brush her lips over them. “Five,” she called, naming her mark and managing to make it sound seductive, before she made her cast. The crowd gave a boisterous huzzah, but Jack’s gaze was locked on her.
Not beautiful in the classic sense, but mesmerizing. Her face was a perfect oval, her eyes the color of sherry. A silver locket hung on the black ribbon around her neck, and when she leaned forward to collect the dice again, Jack got a glimpse of her bosom, threatening to spill over the crimson fabric. She straightened and gave Philip a flirtatious glance as she made her second cast. Jack managed to tear his eyes off her in time to see the focused interest in his brother’s face.
Two thoughts careened through his mind. First, that she was a siren of old, as brazen as brass and as wily as a serpent. Philip was so busy staring at her bosom he didn’t even notice how badly he was losing.
And second, Jack wanted her.
Chapter 2
The Vega Club was very nearly Sophie Campbell’s second home.
In fanciful moments she imagined Vega’s had once been the home of a gentleman, perhaps even an earl or a marquess. It wore its dark wood paneling like a comfortable suit of clothing, inured to the elegance of its crystal chandeliers and plush carpets. Other gaming hells had a closed--up feel, as if sunlight were some sort of plague to be avoided, but not Vega’s. Draperies were only closed at night, and there were windows built high into the walls to allow fresh air on warm evenings. Smoking was confined to a room at the back, and the dining room rivaled the one at Mivart’s Hotel, presumably so the female members were more at ease.
That was the most important feature of Vega’s: women were allowed. Not merely as guests of a man, but as full members in their own right. It was not easy to gain membership, but Sophie had recognized early on that it was the ideal place for her purposes. The Vega Club attracted all sorts of men, and they were all willing to lose to a woman. That was vital to her, for that was how she earned her living.
From the moment she arrived at Mrs. Upton’s Academy, Sophie had known that she would be entirely on her own when she was grown. The morning of her eighteenth birthday, Mrs. Upton had summoned her to gently break the news that Lord Makepeace would no longer pay her tuition. Since the viscount’s letter had arrived the morning of her birthday, Sophie could only imagine how long the bitter old man had been looking forward to sending it. The headmistress offered her a position teaching mathematics, but Sophie declined. At Mrs. Upton’s, her chances of making a good life were small; in the great world, who knew? She’d always been one to play the odds.
It certainly hadn’t been easy. Without funds, she’d taken employment as companion to a widowed viscountess. Anna, Lady Fox, had been a revelation. She was unconventional and bold, generous and witty, and she planted the seeds of an idea in Sophie’s mind. Every woman needs a fortune of her own, she often said—-making Sophie smile in wry agreement, wishing it were that easy. But Lady Fox meant what she said. When she died, she left Sophie three hundred pounds. A good beginning, she wrote in her will; a rare stroke of fortune, to Sophie’s mind, and not one to waste. With that three hundred pounds, plus her own small savings, she invented a dead husband, changed her name, and went to London at the age of twenty--one to put her Grand Plan into effect.
It was a simple plan, really. Once she had secured her independence, she would be mistress of her own fate and able to chart her own course. If independence—-which meant money—-weren’t the key to happiness, it was at least a very great factor in it, and accordingly Sophie set about gaining it with her one profitable skill: gambling.