Page 42 of The Gambler Wagers Her Baron

“I am a grown woman,” she snapped. “During the hours when I am not overseeing the children, I am free to come and go as I please. Was that not our agreement when I took the position in your household?”

He nodded, but his green eyes flared. What right did he have to be angry with her?

Never would she have left her home and taken a post as a governess, only to find the freedom she sought elusive once more.

“Mayhap we should return to the townhouse and have this discussion.”

For the first time, Payton noticed the baron’s breath in the frigid night at the same time her nosed ached with the cold.

“There is nothing to discuss, my lord. Yes, I am a servant in your household. However, that does not give you the right to question my whereabouts at every turn.” She paused in an attempt to collect her thoughts, to express what truly angered her. “My duties for the day were done, the children are abed, and it was my understanding that I am free to do as I wish in the evenings.”

He took the final step, coming to a halt before her, and she glanced up into his remorseful face. His cheeks were hollow, emphasizing the dark circles under his eyes as his gaze begged for her forgiveness. He was exhausted—barely standing, if she were to guess. She’d often noticed his disheveled appearance, even suspected nights of fitful slumber, but it appeared the man before her had not slept for a long, long time.

“I think it best we return to Ashford Hall,” she mused, refusing to allow all her anger to slip away. “Seek our beds. Tomorrow will be a busy day for the both of us.”

Lord Ashford, his light brown hair falling to cover one sparkling green eye, stood so close, she caught the scent of the Albany: a blend of lavender and citrus mixed with something wholly unfamiliar. Her eyes drifted shut as she attempted to place the aroma. Every instinct in her told her to retreat, make haste for the townhouse, find her room, and bar the door until morning—or at least until her good sense returned.

He was not a lord to be trifled with—or a man she should allow to trifle with her emotions. Everything about the baron was confusing, vexing, and continuously changing. One minute, he was aloof and quiet; the next, he was inviting her into his private study only to push her away before inviting himself to dine with her and the children…even dangling the prospect of an entire day together. She’d lost track of how she felt about it all. Her path, only a few short weeks prior, had been set in stone: gain her independence, earn enough funds to support herself, and live any life she wanted. At that moment, Payton could think of nothing beyond the present, these precise few minutes alone in the London night with the scent of the baron carried on the breeze. His green eyes holding hers, asking an unspoken question that she had no answer for before she lowered her lids, fearing what he might see in her gaze.

Surely, her good sense would return come morning light.

Her eyes still closed, his hand brushed a wayward lock of hair behind her ear, and she felt the warmth of his touch through his glove. If she concentrated, she could almost imagine the feel of his flesh against hers. In her mind, his skin was smooth, his touch tender, and his words nothing more than a whisper.

His ragged breath broke the silent hold the moment had encapsulated her in, and Payton’s eyes sprang open to see the baron’s soft stare taking in the sight of her.

Pivoting, Payton pushed her muff higher on her arm and gathered her skirts, her winnings still heavy against her thigh. Without a backwards glance as her heart beat erratically, and her pent-up breath rushed from her lungs, she hurried back toward Ashford Hall. The baron’s footsteps trailed behind her, keeping pace but not daring to come any closer.

Chapter 14

“Pull over here,” Damon called, rapping his knuckles on the side of the carriage.

“I thought we were going to the park and having a picnic?” Joy asked, lifting her head from Miss Samuels’ shoulder. “You promised—”

“Yes, but we have one small stop to make before we arrive at the park.” Damon kept his focus off his children’s governess and on the row of shops bordering Piccadilly as Rigby halted the carriage. “I promise to be quick, and there is a treat in it for everyone.”

“We can wait in the carriage while you attend to your errand, my lord,” Miss Samuels said, stroking Joy’s hair. “I am certain Joy would not mind a few minutes’ rest before the park.”

Their day had started with an early afternoon at the menagerie. Seeing his children in such awe at the spectacles within the traveling show had Damon longing to give them more occasion for jubilation. Though their day was not yet complete, and he’d taken it upon himself to schedule a special treat for Miss Samuels and Joy. More a surprise for his daughter and something he owed Miss Samuels.

“What is it, Father?” Joy pulled back the fabric covering her windowpane. “We haven’t traveled far from the menagerie. Are we going to see the show again?”

“I’d rather eat.” Abram crossed his arms, and Damon heard the corroborating statement of his own stomach growling.

Damon saw the shop out his window. It had been many years since he’d visited any establishment beyond those necessary for a lord. Even Joy’s pinafores and half boots were seen to by Flora when the child grew out of her dresses.

“Madame DelFortaine’s Shoppe,” he proclaimed, hiding his smile by reaching forward to open the door before the footman set down the steps. “A new dress for you, Joy, and a replacement gown for Miss Samuels.”

“I don’t want to go into any ladies’ dress shop,” Abram grumbled.

Damon hopped down from the carriage and reached his arm in to assist Joy and Miss Samuels down.

Helping both alight, he waited for Abram to disembark.

“Abram, do hurry.” Joy bounced from foot to foot, glancing over at the row of shops. “I do so ever want a new gown.” She paused, tapping her finger against her chin. “I think purple…no, yellow. What do you think, Father?”

“Either would look splendid.” Damon smiled at the child’s delight.

“Abram,” Miss Samuels’ stern tone rang over the sounds of the many people hurrying to and fro, and several sets of prying eyes landed on them. “You will exit the carriage now.”