Page 25 of The Gambler Wagers Her Baron

“Yes?”

“Why doesn’t my father love us?”

Damon trembled, his knees buckling, barely keeping himself upright, and he leaned heavily against the wall. His fist pressed to his mouth in an attempt to remain silent. He should inch his way down the hall to the stairs and return to his study—and his waiting decanter of scotch.

Instead, he remained outside Joy’s door, longing to hear how Miss Samuels responded, as if somehow it would answer his own questions about his love for Joy and Abram. He did love them, with all his heart—at least what little was left with Sarah gone.

He held his breath and listened as Miss Samuels made her way back to his daughter’s bedside, her skirts rustling, and the bed creaking as she sat once more.

“Why do you think he doesn’t love you and Abram?” she asked.

“I don’t know about other mums and fathers, but ours only seems irritated at us all the time.” She paused, and Damon could imagine her tiny, angelic face scrunching as she tried to put into words something that was far too mature for her to reconcile. “He is home, but he doesn’t tuck us into bed or eat his meals with us. Even when we are horrid to you, he doesn’t scold us.”

“Mayhap your father thinks it is my responsibility, as your governess, to handle such things.”

“But you are not our mum.”

“No, I am not,” the governess agreed.

“Soon, you will leave—”

“I am not leaving anytime soon,” Miss Samuels said. “However, one day, you will be a grown woman—smart, beautiful, and confident—and you will not need me any longer.”

Damon pushed away from the wall and risked a glance into the room. The embers in the hearth gave off barely enough light to see Miss Samuels perched on the edge of Joy’s bed, stroking the child’s brow. His stomach twisted, knowing it should be him at his daughter’s bedside. The only thing to do was announce his presence and tell Joy that he did love her and her brother. Nothing would change that. But, instead, he sank back against the wall.

It was best he not disturb Joy. She’d found some semblance of peace, and he was loath to take the moment from her. Tomorrow…there would be time enough tomorrow to speak to the children.

Damon prayed the governess’s words held truth. She would not leave him…er, his children. She would remain in his home and show Joy and Abram the love they so rightfully deserved. The love Damon had for them but could not bring himself to express. One day, he swore to himself, one day he would be free of his guilt and regret over the past and everything they’d lost because of his actions. One day they would be a family again.

He wanted that time to come. More than anything.

For now, he needed to make certain nothing stood in the way of Miss Samuels remaining as his children’s governess for as long as they needed her…for as long as he needed her.

“You must sleep now. Tomorrow, we will learn all about Egyptian history and the hidden tombs their lands have kept a secret for many of centuries.”

“I do not want to study, I want to—”

“You must learn all you can, or you’ll become one of those feather-brained misses who cares for naught but fancy gowns and speaking only of the weather,” Miss Samuels said with a quiet laugh. “Now, to sleep with you.”

Yes, Damon could use a good night of rest, though he suspected a fitful slumber awaited him.

He inched back down the hall as Miss Samuels sang an unfamiliar lullaby.

Damon didn’t deserve the indirect kindness the governess had shown him at Joy’s question. He had neglected his children, he had grown the distance between them, and he despaired that he’d never be able to mend the rift he created. How could he soothe his children’s pain when he was helpless to overcome his own?

Chapter 10

Damon had thought his exhaustion could not possibly worsen; however, after hurrying away from Joy’s bedchamber—the melodic melody of the governess’s voice chasing him—he slept late into the morning without a hint of restful respite. He walked briskly down the hall and past the schoolroom door, not risking a peek inside through the portal that stood ajar. Abram’s stern tone warned Joy against knocking his inkwell over. As if in response, Miss Samuels cautioned Joy against her plan by outlining the consequences if she were to spill the onyx ink on the wood floor.

His steps faltered, but he decided not to interrupt Miss Samuels and his children. They needed to learn to obey their governess, and Miss Samuels must assert her authority over the pair. Otherwise, Damon’s household would continue to be disrupted. After the previous night—the stark honesty between his daughter and the governess—a bond had obviously been formed…or had it been formed long before last night? At the very least, it had been reinforced in their private exchange.

He took the stairs two at a time, more to hurry to his study than any amount of lightness to his step.

Mr. Brown nodded when he reached the final step and waited for his master to address him, his face pinched with a certain measure of pain.

“Good morning, Mr. Brown.” Damon greeted, his voice lacking its usual gruffness.

The butler bowed, then straightened quickly to glance over his shoulder toward Damon’s study. “My lord—”