Page 10 of The Gambler Wagers Her Baron

It was always the children, never Abram and Joy.

Similarly, it was always despite my feelings for Sarah, never that the world had been a better place while Sarah was in it.

“We manage well enough, Joy, Abram, and I—“

“But the children need a mother,” his sister retorted.

“I was unaware that you had any notion what children—mine or otherwise—were in need of.”

Her stare narrowed, and she took a step back as if he’d lashed out physically and not vocally. “Simply because Wittenbottom and I never longed for children, does not mean I am ignorant to their ways and needs. You know perfectly well I did my best raising you.”

She appeared affronted, not hurt by his words in the slightest, confirming what Damon already held as truth where his sister was concerned.

“Please excuse my manners.” Damon leaned forward, placing a light kiss on her cheek. “I fear I am a bit unnerved. Joy and Abram have once again decided to test the merit of their new governess.”

“Perhaps we should revisit the topic of boarding school,” Flora mused. “St. Agatha’s in Dorset, and Winchester Boys Academy in Manchester have places reserved for both of the children.”

We.

As if Flora had had any hand in raising his children, any interest in their studies or their preferred pastimes. If it weren’t for the long list of governesses he’d employed, the children would be left fallow.

“They are not old enough to be away from home,” Damon responded, shaking his head. “I may one day reconsider, but not today…nor tomorrow.” And he hoped by then, his sister would have taken to other interests and no longer think of him and his children as her charity project, a good deed that would see her raised further in society as a pillar of kindness and compassion.

“I implore you to keep my suggestions in mind. My dear friend, Lady Carmichael, has fifteen grandchildren, and as soon as they no longer required a nursemaid, they were sent to live at a boarding school. The two eldest, both girls, were both wed before the end of their first Season.” Flora nodded, further dislodging the pins that held her hat in place. “However, as you so kindly reminded me, I am not one to know about children and their upbringing.”

“As I said, I promise to consider it once they are a bit older,” Damon agreed.

“See that you do”—she patted his cheek as if he were a good boy worthy of a reward and not a thirty-two-year-old widower—“now, where are the children?”

The way her shoulders hitched and her brow furrowed, Damon suspected that she didn’t actually care where Joy and Abram were, nor would she remain long enough to see them.

Despite his sister being their only living relative besides himself, the children were not fond of Flora, and the familial bond was non-existent on both sides. “They retired for the evening a few minutes ago.”

Flora exhaled. “Well, I would not wish to interrupt their sleep.”

“That would not be wise.” Did he so readily agree because he didn’t want to journey above to his children’s side-by-side rooms, or that his sister had only asked after her niece and nephew because it was proper? “Is there a reason you came?”

It was after evening meal, and most of London was preparing for their nightly outings: the opera, Covent Gardens, routs, or even Ashford Hall for a night of gaming. His sister, ever the esteemed lady, would likely be attending a ball with Wittenbottom before retiring early because, as she was wont to say, “Only heathens and ne’er-do-wells would dare be caught out after the witching hour.”

“Certainly, yes.” Her lips pulled back into what Flora likely thought was a genuine smile; however, her thin lips and narrowed eyes gave off no warmth. “You remember the Duchess of Catherton, my dearest bosom friend?” Flora barely paused for him to nod. “Of course, you remember Her Grace. Well, her husband asked after your famed game evening.”

“I do hope you did not issue an invitation without speaking with me first.”

Catherton was the type of lord Damon should want in attendance at his gaming nights: deep pockets with many friends who wagered vast fortunes on a regular basis in seedy gaming hells. Yet, the man’s cruel reputation made him someone Damon did not wish to host in his home.

“I would never—”

“However, you did?” Damon prodded.

Flora picked at the string on her reticule as she avoided Damon’s glare. “I may have…well, the duchess—Evangeline—she said her husband had heard word of your entertainments and desired to know when you would hold your next gaming evening. He is a duke, Damon, a duke! With a son little older than Joy. Think about a match made between our families.”

Damon took several deep breaths as his hands clamped tight behind his back. “Joy is six. Six, Flora. I am not—nor will I in the next ten years—be promising her to any man, duke or otherwise.”

“Of course, not.” Flora attempted light laughter, though it sounded a bit shrill to Damon. “Nevertheless, I gave Evangeline your directions and let her know you’d be hosting this very evening. I assumed”—she glanced around the ballroom as several servants continued preparations—“tonight would be no different than last Saturday night.”

Damon tensed. “You did w—?”

“As always, very good to see you, Damon.” She nodded before her eyes grew round. “Wittenbottom is awaiting me in the drive. We are dining at Wiltons. Wiltons! I dare say, I cannot believe we may very well sup at the very same table Queen Caroline favors. Well, before all the divorce nonsense began, that is.”