Page 36 of The Gambler Wagers Her Baron

“How so?”

Lord Ashford appeared resigned to some unknown fact. “Because what if I speak out of turn? What if the day is marvelous, but when we return home, I…?”

When his words trailed off, unfinished and looming in the space between them, she prodded, “You what, my lord?”

He ran his hand through his hair, causing it to fall haphazardly over one eye. “It matters naught.”

“Can I ask you a question, my lord?” Gaining the baron’s approval before she made a disparaging comment was unfair, but this moment was a long time coming. She’d noted the distance that separated him from his children the first day she arrived at Ashford Hall. When he nodded, she said, “Why did you offer to accompany us tomorrow? After all this time, why now?”

He showed his palms with a shrug. “They were happy. I haven’t seen them excited about anything in a long while unless they are up to some troublesome behavior. Is it wrong for me to want to be a part of that, even when I know I have no right, and they are better off without me close?”

Payton couldn’t understand how the baron had come to believe that his children would fare better without him. They had no mother…only Lord Ashford. Had her presence at the townhouse over the last month taken away the baron’s chance to deepen his connection with Joy and Abram?

“Do forget I mentioned anything,” the baron sighed. “I bid you goodnight, Miss Samuels.”

Without a backwards glance, he strode from the dining hall. She remained frozen in place as his heavy footfalls faded.

Perhaps it was Payton who should forego the outing to Pall Mall on the morrow. If she were not as readily available, would he take more notice of his children? If she left him no option, would he build his relationship with Joy and Abram?

There were too many questions to have them all answered so simply.

However, there was one thing she was not questioning: Payton hadn’t been overly enthusiastic about the outing until Lord Ashford announced that he’d be joining them. It might be a selfish decision, but Payton now looked forward to witnessing the baron outside of Ashford Hall. Without his study to seek refuge in, and without his mask to hide behind, she—and the children—would likely encounter an entirely different man.

The baron could not possibly keep up his stoic demeanor with both of his children clamoring for his attention at Pall Mall. And there was little chance that Joy and Abram would not be demanding their father’s much-needed notice.

She wondered if any of them would recognize the baron outside the townhouse.

Surely, there was more to Lord Ashford than Payton had seen in their short acquaintance. Was there a time when he had been a charming young lord? A dashing rogue? Mayhap even an enticing scoundrel?

Chapter 13

The room had become his prison.

It was his haven while holding all that haunted him. The more Damon retreated, the more he found himself isolated in a place that held so many memories for him. Some good. Some bad. Most heartbreaking.

The more he glimpsed how life could be free from his past, the more he knew that he needed to find a way to release himself, though the draw of his reclusive ways continued to tempt him.

It was more than just this room, it was the entire house. And yet, he remained. Forever fortifying himself in his own personal hell. The decorative trappings, the muted hues of blue and grey, and the books… Lord above, help him, all the bloody damned books.

Everything was a constant reminder of what he’d loved and lost.

Even his children.

He kept them close, yet he could barely hold himself together in their presence.

Escape. Damon needed to escape, though he suspected it would not grant him the freedom he frantically sought.

But where could he flee to? His country seat at Falconcrest? He’d journeyed there only once since Sarah’s death, and he’d lasted a mere fortnight before the past drove him back to London. The house, the lands, the mere smells of the winter blossoms brought back that fateful day—and his failure.

Maybe Flora had been correct. Damon should send the children to boarding school. Allow them a normal upbringing far from their haunted father. They’d been so tiny when Sarah passed…why should they not have the chance to forget the pain and move on?

Because he was weak. He was broken.

And he greatly needed to keep his children close because they were all he had left of Sarah, even though the sight of them made the agony everlasting.

Damon stood before the hearth, begging its flames to leap from the logs and singe away his pain. Burn it from his very skin.

Closing his eyes, he allowed the heat to overwhelm him. To saturate his exposed flesh and heat the fabric of his trousers until the burn was nearly too much to bear.