Page 44 of The Gambler Wagers Her Baron

“Miss Samuels, silly,” Joy giggled, yet another sound that should be familiar to him but wasn’t.

His children were changing before his very eyes, and Damon was finding it difficult to keep up.

“Miss Samuels says I can have a proper evening gown made from the yellow fabric,” Joy continued. “She called it silk. I wonder how long it’ll take to get my dress. Do you think it’ll be ready before Mama’s birthday?”

Damon froze, searching his memory for what month it was. February. There were still several weeks until Sarah’s birthday came and went.

“I’ll ask them to hurry. We should get it in, say, two days?”

Joy looks doubtful. “What if it’s not ready?”

“I promise.”

She brightened. “Truly?”

“Truly.”

Damon’s stare drifted back to the shop window where Miss Samuels—no, Payton—pointed to one of two fashion plates the modiste held up. Payton? An unusual name and one Damon should have been quick to commit to memory. If he’d heard the name before, it was for a man, not a woman. However, it was as unique as she was—and unexpected, as well. Much like her hair, long and curling, had come to symbolize her. Or the way her eyes sparked with the changing of her moods.

“Father.” Joy tugged at his coat sleeve. “Do you really promise?”

“Of course, dear one.” He wasn’t sure where the endearment had come from, but the moment the words left his mouth, Joy stopped tugging at his sleeve, her mouth fell open, and her shoulders tensed. “Did I say something wrong?”

Her bottom lip trembled. “Mama called me dear one.”

“She did, didn’t she,” Damon said, remembering Sarah’s melodic voice as she sang Joy to sleep all those years ago. “As did I.”

The bell from Oliver’s chimed, and Abram exited, his arms laden with several massive tomes.

The smile on his face was worth the invoice Damon would receive from the bookseller.

“Can we go now?” Joy’s voice hitched.

“Certainly.” Damon waved to the Ashford footman waiting by his coach. The servant hurried over. “Rigby, see the children inside the carriage. I will collect Miss Samuels and return.”

“Very well, my lord.”

The children followed the footman, Abram focused on the top book, while Joy shuffled alongside her brother.

He’d been caught up in his daughter’s happiness, and he’d unwittingly caused her pain with his thoughtlessness. In the future, Damon would be far more careful when he spoke to his children. Rigby assisted Joy into the carriage and held Abram’s books while the boy found his seat.

“Are the children ready, Lord Ashford?”

Miss Samuels stood behind him, fastening the buttons on her long cloak before touching her perfectly pinned hair.

“Yes, they are hungry and cannot wait for the park.” He held out his arm, and she stared at it as if debating whether to place her hand at his elbow. Something about the woman, her speech, her manners, her way of holding herself, spoke of a past spent among society. She had the poise of a woman raised with privilege. Could she be the daughter or relation of a nobleman? Before he could ask, she set her gloved hand at his elbow and then started for their waiting carriage. “I hope you selected a suitable new gown.”

She kept her stare trained straight ahead. “You were under no obligation to purchase me a new dress. I should have kept a better watch on Joy and Abram’s antics…”

“You are welcome, Miss Samuels.” He knew full well that he wasn’t only under obligation, it was something she’d expected.

“I did not thank you, my lord,” she hissed.

“Are you unfamiliar with accepting a kindness?”

“A kindness?” she asked, her stare meeting his. “Mayhap it was more of an obligation.”

“A kindness, a gift, or a mere obligation, regardless, I hope you selected a lovely new gown.” He handed her up into the carriage, bringing their brief moment of privacy to an end, though he suspected he’d touched on a subject she was wholly uncomfortable with. “To St. James’s Park, Rigby.”