Page 38 of The Gambler Wagers Her Baron

She swept out the door with her chin held high, as regal as if she were the lady of the house.

The butler held the door open and watched her walk down the steps before closing the portal behind her.

“Mr. Brown.” Damon stepped from the shadows.

“My lord,” the butler sputtered, adjusting his coat. “Can I assist you with something? Perhaps I can collect you a pot of tea before you retire?”

Damon ignored the servant’s question. “Where is Miss Samuels going?”

“I do not presume to know, my lord.” When Damon frowned, Mr. Brown glanced toward the front door and then back to him. “I can catch her and ask, if that is your wish.”

Their agreement, as with every governess before her, left no questions about responsibilities. She was allotted one day off per week, and evenings were to be spent however she saw fit as long as the children were asleep, and she returned before sunrise. Neither Damon nor the butler had any right to question the governess’s private comings and goings. There was a certain amount of freedom afforded to governesses that was not given to other servants.

“It appeared she was going for a walk,” Damon mused, keeping a close watch on his butler. Did the man know more than he was sharing? There was not much the old butler missed, and it was quite possible the servant was well aware of Miss Samuels’ penchant for gambling. “Mayhap a turn about the square will do me well. A spot of crisp, fresh air.”

The butler shot Damon a narrowed glance as he collected Damon’s greatcoat. “I cannot attest to anything on the matter, my lord. My old bones freeze with the winter weather. But do enjoy your…walk.”

Damon pulled the limp cravat from his neck and handed it to the butler before fastening the buttons at this throat and donning his coat. It would have to do, or he’d risk losing Miss Samuels to the night if he dallied a moment longer.

“Very well, I will be off.” Damon stood awkwardly, expecting the servant to question him further; instead, he nodded and opened the door.

Part of him hoped Mr. Brown would attempt to convince him to remain at Ashford Hall, tell him the weather was too unpredictable for an outing at this ungodly hour, or at the very least give him a reproachful glare.

But his trusted family servant would never lower himself to such behavior.

For once, Damon longed for a butler who overstepped his position.

He walked into the night, realizing that this was his first jaunt out of Ashford Hall in nearly a week. The cold air burned his lungs as he breathed deeply and pulled his coat tighter around himself to ward off the chill. There was little telling how far Miss Samuels planned to travel, or if she’d spoken the truth to Mr. Brown. She could easily make the short walk to Grosvenor Street, hail a hack, and disappear into the night.

Lamplight from the row of townhouses on either side of Saint George Street cast a hazy glow on the walk, making it easy to spot Miss Samuels walking briskly toward the main street. Her steps were sure, and she kept her eyes trained straight ahead as if she hadn’t a care in the world. It was entirely possible that she departed his townhouse each evening and embarked on these suspect walks about the square every night. Merely strolling to and fro, no matter the time of day, was not the gravest sin one could commit.

Hanover Square was as safe a neighborhood as to be found in London proper; however, that did not mean that cutpurses and thieves did not lurk in the passageways, waiting for an unsuspecting victim to happen down their walk.

Did the woman not possess even an ounce of self-preservation? And why hadn’t his butler insisted that a footman accompany her?

Damon waited until she reached the sixth townhouse down from his before he began his pursuit, hoping the noise from Grosvenor Street would be loud enough to drown out the ring of his boot steps on the walkway.

His apprehension lessened when she reached the main street and didn’t hail a hack but instead turned right and continued on down Grosvenor Street on foot. When Damon reached the corner, he paused as she crossed the street at the next intersection and disappeared between a row of houses on Mill Street.

Where in the bloody hell was she going at this time of night?

As the hour grew later, so would the frigid London cold settle across the town, burrowing into every alley and thoroughfare. She’d been in his employ only a short time, did she know her way about the area? Would she grow lost or be targeted by a vagabond up to no good?

He darted down Grosvenor and hurried between two slow-moving carts to the corner of Mill Street, where he lost sight of her. Pushing up against the stone facade of the corner house, he crept along in the darkness, making sure to keep his steps light.

As much as he kept to the shadows, the governess walked in the little light that could be found from the street lamps and uncovered windows to her right—no hiding, no sulking, no fear.

Damon could never imagine allowing Joy to traverse the dangerous London streets, no matter her age. The risk, even in Mayfair, was too great—the late hour notwithstanding.

Miss Samuels slowed her pace, forcing Damon to crouch low to remain unseen.

Glancing up at a townhouse, she pulled something from her pocket and held it close in the dim lighting before returning it to her cloak and walking up the two steps. Before she even had a chance to knock, the door opened, casting a bright light over the governess and onto the walk below. Whoever resided inside had been expecting her.

“A simple walk,” Damon scoffed.

Common sense told him to turn around and return to Ashford Hall.

His ineptness at listening to his own good sense had Damon moving swiftly down the walk to stand before the townhouse at 10 Mill Street. It was nothing as grand as the townhouses in Hanover Square or Grosvenor Square, with no overhang and only an unlit sconce above the single door. The rough stone wall was worn from years of London drizzle, marred by the soot from the tall chimneys dotting the tops of every home. All in all, this townhouse was no different than the ones that flanked it on both sides.