Page 31 of The Gambler Wagers Her Baron

Damon had been swallowed whole by his own despair. He would never be the same man who’d cared for his wife and children again. That part of him had left with Sarah. Any hope for healing for Joy and Abram would come from another…Miss Samuels. She would be the key to their moving beyond their suffering even if Damon never found his way out.

A future untainted by his past was unimaginable.

What would life have been like had fate not dealt him such a cruel blow?

He pushed from his seat and strode to the sideboard, pouring himself another tumbler of scotch. It was not worth even pondering life without the massive hole that ate at him every single day. He desperately wanted to heal, but where and how to begin was beyond his comprehension.

But his children… Despite Miss Samuels’ flaws, maybe she could make them whole again. They deserved more than Damon could ever give them. But what did that mean for him, having the governess close? Was it possible to heal his children but also keep far from Miss Samuels? Perhaps if Abram and Joy had time away from him, they would flourish. Flora had been pressuring him to send the pair to boarding school, but up until this moment, he’d thought he hesitated because he wanted to keep the siblings together for as long as time allowed.

Now, he realized that he kept them at Ashford Hall for not only that reason but also so he wasn’t alone. They were held down by the loss of their mother, as was Damon. Without his children close, he would suffer alone.

Swirling his glass, Damon focused on the smooth, heavy feel of the tumbler clenched in his fisted hand. He’d taken to drinking often since Sarah’s death. So much so, even the stiffest liquor failed to burn as it made its way down his throat and into his stomach now.

He set down the drink and turned away from it. No matter how many tumblers of scotch, gin, or absinthe he imbibed, it would never mend the fracture within him. It would never fill the void that consumed him. It would never bring a sense of life back to his existence.

Sarah was forever gone, and he’d diminished her memory by allowing a stranger to offer their children the solace that should have come from their father.

His head fell into his hands, and he rubbed at his eyes, hoping to lessen the ache that persisted behind them. How long had it been since he’d been afforded a single night of uninterrupted slumber?

Perhaps he should inform his butler that he would not be eating his evening meal and retire to his room early. A long night’s sleep—even a fitful one—would see his mood improved by morning.

Damon pulled at this cravat until it hung untied around his neck and unclasped the buttons of his shirt at his throat. Breathing in deeply, he pushed the air from his lungs. If only it were so simple to expel all his worries.

A knock sounded on the door.

Likely Mrs. Brown with his evening meal. Though he wasn’t hungry, he’d eat whatever was brought or risk injuring the Ashford cook’s—Miss Eleanor’s—feelings when his plate returned to the kitchens untouched. In recent days, he’d felt he disappointed everyone around him—his children, his sister, the governess, and his servants.

“Enter.” He glanced in the mirror on the wall close to the hearth. The darkened circles under his eyes were far more prominent than they’d been that very morning. His linen shirt was no longer pressed but wrinkled from sitting all day. And now his cravat hung limply at this throat, his shirt buttons undone, exposing his neck. “Please, leave my meal on my desk.”

He couldn’t bear to turn and face his housekeeper. What must his servants think of their erratic, reclusive lord after all these years?

“Lord Ashford?” Miss Samuels whispered. “I thought I might have a word with you.”

He rubbed his forehead. “Miss Samuels—”

“I can return another time if you are otherwise occupied.”

When he remained quiet, the creak of the closing door sounded at this back. “Wait,” he called. Despite his mood, the governess hadn’t done anything to deserve his dark demeanor. “Come in. I have a few minutes before my evening meal arrives.”

He pivoted slowly as she eased into the room, silently closing the door behind her. Her shoulders tensed before she exhaled and faced him.

Something was different about her, far more than the night before. He was used to her irritation, annoyance, and anger. Last night, he’d glimpsed a rare moment of calm conversation with her. Now, she appeared deep in thought. Had she come to give her notice and vacate her position at Ashford Hall? Perhaps she’d come to confess her suspicious activities and beg for the funds to repay the duke.

Damon was prepared to deny both. His children needed a governess—specifically Miss Samuels—and she was no longer indebted to Catherton.

He gestured to the seat he’d been slumped in the last several hours. Having a coherent conversation with Miss Samuels sitting on the lounge would be impossible. He’d need to keep his wits about him if he thought to dissuade her from leaving his employ.

Miss Samuels moved across the room on silent feet and lowered herself into his chair. Her eyes widened before her lips pressed into a firm line.

He couldn’t help but wonder if the seat was still warm, if the soft cushion molded to her back as it did his, if the chair gave her the sense of security he’d found while in it. Yet that was something that marveled him about her; she appeared secure and confident in all she did, whether in the schoolroom or in his study. Damon envied her that above all else.

She stared down at her hands, folded on her peach-colored skirts. Even with her eyes cast toward her lap, her elegant neck was visible, swathed in pale, creamy skin seemingly untouched by the rays of the sun.

Her hesitation had Damon convinced he could change her mind if she meant to resign her position.

“The children have been quiet today,” he mused. “I do hope they are not giving you any more trouble.”

She gave a slight shake of her head. “No, my lord.”