Page 11 of The Gambler Wagers Her Baron

She clapped her hands in excitement, her unease at angering Damon forgotten as she spun around and headed for the door.

“Enjoy your evening.” He remained in the shadows of the Ashford Hall ballroom until he heard his butler close the door behind Flora. Only then did he allow his exasperated sigh to escape.

His children were unruly, his governess had the audacity to rebuff his place as their father, and now the Duke of Catherton, known for his ruthlessness in both business and his personal affairs, would be joining his gaming night.

Damon’s cherished few hours outside the hell that was his life suddenly vanished before his eyes, turning into a nightmare of his own making.

Chapter 4

Payton crept from Joy’s room on silent, slippered feet, careful not to disturb the slumbering child. With her golden tresses and moss-green eyes, the girl would one day be a true beauty, a diamond of the first water. London—and likely all of England—would know Miss Joy Kinder. Whether for her beauty or her hellion ways, Payton was not certain. Often, she wondered how a child so peaceful at rest could cause the sheer amount of chaos Joy did while awake. Had Payton been the same in her youth? An angel while abed but a hellion when awake?

She couldn’t help the hint of a smirk that pulled at her lips. Likely, she and Joy had more in common than either thought, though the difference was that Marce had known how to deal with Payton, while Payton was still learning how to handle Joy and her brother.

Pulling the door closed behind her, Payton hurried toward her own room, pausing outside Abram’s chambers to listen. No sound escaped. Both children were tucked in and had found their rest. Payton’s duties for the day were complete, and it was now her turn to escape, though not into slumber. She had a long night ahead of her. Thankfully, the following day—Sunday—was her day off.

The room next to Abram’s had been assigned to Payton when she took the position as the Ashford governess. The chamber was sparse, previously given to Joy’s wet nurse, but it suited Payton well enough. They were her own quarters, and no one intruded on her. The most welcome advantage to her room was the view.

The drapes hadn’t been drawn for the evening, and Payton hurried to look out the double windows to the street below.

Saint George Street, nestled in one of the finest squares in London, was nearly always quiet—unlike her own home, Craven House, which resided in the far less desirable neighborhood of Leicester Square. The carriages coming and going in the Saint George Street area were well maintained and driven by livery in the colorful uniforms of the local households. Her windows faced the street, giving her ample view in both directions. This night, she did not linger at the window, relishing the sights of the cityscape, nor did she focus on the clouds drifting in to cover the moon.

She searched for only one thing; namely, the Craven House carriage.

As it was each week, the enclosed landau with Mr. Curtis holding the reins, waited outside the townhouse three doors down from Ashford Hall. Mr. Curtis, the only male servant employed by Craven House, was tasked with all duties ranging from tending the grounds to attending the door and even driving Payton and her sisters about London in the family’s decrepit coach.

Payton collected her cloak and her wages for the week and rushed from her room, heading down the servant’s stairwell and out into the hall leading to the foyer, which kept her far from the baron’s study. She paused outside the ballroom, watching as two footmen adjusted palm plants close to the dais. In a few short hours, the room would be teeming with lords and ladies—and some wealthy businessmen—as Lord Ashford hosted an evening of cards. Nothing about the baron’s townhouse felt the same during those hours when its normally empty halls filled with the sounds of merriment, laughter, and good cheer. Once a week, this was not a home shrouded in despair and eerie silence.

A shadow shifted in the recesses of the large room as the baron himself came into view.

Payton took a step back, the frame from the doorway blocking her as she watched Lord Ashford assess the room. He appeared as out of place here as he had in the foyer that morning. Odd that he could give his time to something so trivial as preparing his ballroom, but couldn’t be bothered to see to his children’s upbringing.

In fact, after she’d left the baron’s study that morning to change her dress, Payton hadn’t seen him again. She’d fully expected him to seek a word with his children, perhaps during their morning studies or at their noonday meal, but he hadn’t come. Things had continued as they had each day before: she tended to the children, and he retreated to his study.

Lord Ashford had proven gruff, contrary, and distant. At times, Payton wondered if he even remembered that he had children. Despite her mother’s early passing, Payton had never gone a day unloved by her older siblings. Marce had also seen to their discipline and upbringing. If not for Payton, who would take responsibility for Joy and Abram?

It appeared she needed Abram and Joy as much as they needed her, despite everyone acting to the contrary. She could at least give them a bit of the notice that should come from their father, not a governess.

As he walked around the ballroom, the baron called instructions to the footmen, pointing out a lopsided table and questioning the placement of the refreshment stand. The men hopped to each task given by Lord Ashford, each seeming happy to do the baron’s bidding.

The servants at Ashford Hall had made no attempt to gain any familiarity with the baron’s new governess, and she’d overheard the whispers surrounding her presence more than once. Payton would tend the children for several weeks, perhaps a couple of months at most, and then she would leave—either relieved of her position by the baron or run off by the children. That was what everyone at Ashford Hall predicted for her.

Payton had little doubt she would see the same fate as the last half-dozen governesses; however, she planned to leave of her own accord.

And that would happen as soon as she saved enough money—for housing and…other things.

Working tirelessly for a mere baron with two quarrelsome, unmanageable children was not all her future held. Her sisters, Judith and Samantha, had wed an earl and a marquis respectively. While Payton hadn’t set her sights on marriage, she was confident that she would do better than living as a servant in a baron’s household. There were places she longed to see, people to meet, and experiences to have. Though she didn’t have it all figured out, Payton knew she longed for a place of her own, like her mother before her. She knew that living under the edicts of another was not in her future. But beyond earning enough to secure a suitable residence, Payton was still figuring everything out. Her mother had bidden her to strive for something better, yet she hadn’t imparted to Payton precisely what something better was. Was it mere independence? A home of her own? The means to travel the world at will?

She feared if she allowed herself to remain in Lord Ashford’s employ—to gain a sense of comfort—those accomplishments would be stifled and eventually forgotten altogether. Over the last month, a small amount of comfort had been found in the lavishness of Ashford Hall and the continued presence of Joy and Abram. Unless Payton sought out solitude, she was never alone.

The clock down the hall chimed, eliciting a startled yelp from Payton. She’d spent too long lost in her thoughts, staring at Lord Ashford. The baron pivoted toward the door just as she hurried by the opening and continued to the foyer and out the front entrance.

There was nothing better to regain her focus than the crisp, cold London air. As heavy with soot as it was, it reminded Payton of her goals. Much like her mother before her, Payton was confident great things lay in her future.

She pulled the collar of her cloak high to ward off the breeze as she hurried down the street to her waiting carriage.

Her time at Ashford Hall was not all her future held. It was merely a few hard months of work that would enable her to live the life she truly desired.

And that future would begin all the sooner if she could win a few sizable hands at the baron’s card tables tonight.