Page 39 of The Gambler Wagers Her Baron

A voice cleared behind him. “Pardon, my lord.”

Damon pivoted to catch an elderly gentleman approaching on foot from behind him, his smile wide and his footfalls matching the strike of his cane against the walk. When he stepped to the side, the man continued up the steps to 10 Mill Street and, once again, the door opened without the newest arrival knocking.

This time, Damon was afforded a quick glimpse inside as the footman paused to take the gentleman’s coat. The interior was lit by a massive silver chandelier, the walls covered by rich, orange silk swaths trimmed in silver. A servant passed the open doorway, a platter held close to his chest. The newly arrived guest took a flute and moved farther into the townhouse.

Miss Samuels had already moved out of view, deeper into the dwelling.

Laughter and music floated out into the night before the door swung shut.

Damon was left alone, in the cold of night.

He hadn’t but a moment to wonder what his children’s governess was doing at 10 Mill Street before an expensively adorned, enclosed coach halted at the curb. With two footmen at the rear, a driver high atop his perch, and four blazing lamps swinging at each corner, the conveyance’s occupant was undoubtedly a lord of means. Damon’s own unkempt, wrinkled attire was not only unsuitable for the chilly night but also made him appear the ruffian. He pulled the collar of his great cloak high to mask his lack of neckcloth and to hide his wrinkled linen shirt.

The driver remained on his perch as the footman at the coach’s rear hopped to the ground, straightened his coat, and brushed the dust from his uniform before opening the carriage door.

A lady grasped the footman’s outstretched hand as the servant assisted her to the walk.

“Flora?” Damon asked.

“Brother?” His sister’s stare met his, and her face paled as if she were seeing a ghost—or, more accurately, as if he’d spotted her in a place she was not supposed to be. “What in heaven’s name are you doing here?”

She looked him up and down, her stare settling on his bare neck.

“I was—am”—he swallowed, collecting his senses—“I thought a brisk walk would do me well before bed.”

“It is several blocks to your townhouse.” She couldn’t disguise her suspicion.

“Yes, well, once I was out of Ashford Hall, I continued to walk. The evening air does wonders for my mind.”

Flora’s gaze traveled over Damon’s shoulder to the door of 10 Mill Street.

“Where is Wittenbottom?” Damon made a display of glancing toward his sister’s waiting carriage. “I should say hello before I am on my way.”

“He, um,” she said, “he is having a meal at his club before meeting me later this evening.”

Damon glanced over his shoulder to where the door stood ajar, waiting for Flora to enter. “I can accompany you inside,” Damon offered.

“You hardly appear presentable,” she retorted. “Besides, it is not necessary. I am only here for an hour or two, then I will be on my way to meet Wittenbottom.”

Miss Samuels had said the same thing to his butler. That she should be gone for only an hour or two.

“Whose residence is this?” he asked. “Someone I know?”

Flora huffed, her patience with his questions expired. “Sir Galment hosts a few select…ladies…for evening entertainment. Music, lectures, and the like. Wittenbottom, as you know, is not the most educated man.”

Educated, no.

Wealthy as a Prussian prince, yes.

“And the evening is for women only?” he prodded. A man had entered directly after Miss Samuels. He waited for Flora to deceive him and for a reason as to why his governess would attend such an affair, let alone who she secured an invitation from.

“Heavens, no,” Flora laughed. “There are spirited debates and cultured conversations. Sir Galment invites several scholarly men to lead the discussions.”

“Ladies attend such gatherings?”

“With zeal, I can assure you.” She waved her hand as she said, “As a boon, Galment offers a spot of cards for those interested. I do not waste my time or funds at the gaming tables but find interest in the conversations to be had.”

Gaming tables.