Page 48 of The Gambler Wagers Her Baron

It wasn’t about settling, finding comfort in what she had and losing sight of her independence and future in favor of a few months—possibly a year—with Lord Ashford and his family.

At what point had her goals altered to such a degree that she’d fallen into the false security of everyday life at Ashford Hall?

Chapter 15

Damon rested his face in his open palms, listening to the deep rumbling of Joy’s breathing. Bathed, hair dried, and tucked into bed, she once again appeared the angel she always was in his eyes. Only in sleep was his daughter at peace, her forehead smooth and without worry lines. As her father, it was his responsibility to remove all her burdens. A duty he’d failed to do.

And he hadn’t only failed at the park, but every day since her mother had passed.

Their day had been wonderful. It had even given him hope that he’d begun his climb out of the dark place he’d lived in the last several years.

It wasn’t until he saw his daughter’s head slip under the water that he knew—knew—how utterly he’d failed his children. Joy could have been lost forever—and thinking he didn’t love her.

He’d told her…over and over on their ride home.

When she awoke in the morning, he’d tell her again. And then he would go to Abram and repeat the words that hadn’t escaped him for so many years.

A throat cleared behind him, and Damon turned to see Miss Samuels standing in the doorway, her candle casting a soft glow about her. As soon as they’d gotten home, he demanded she return to her chambers and change while he saw to Joy and Abram with Mrs. Brown’s assistance. He’d made sure his daughter was well and that the hearth in her room was stoked until the heat reached every corner of her chambers before he allowed himself to find dry clothes himself.

His tight shoulders eased at the sight of the governess.

If he hadn’t been there, he knew she would have saved Joy. He was positive. His children meant as much to her as they did to him. It was obvious.

It had taken only a second, Joy lost in the water of the pond, to bring back the helplessness he’d felt all those years ago with Sarah. He would have risked everything in that pond if only to not repeat his failures from the past.

Safety. Security. The two things he’d strove to provide for his children. And he’d nearly failed them.

“How is she doing?” Miss Samuels whispered, stepping into the darkened room.

Mrs. Brown, with the help of a maid, had pulled all the curtains tight, blocking out the waning late-afternoon light.

“She is asleep. But her breathing is labored, and her chest sounds heavy,” he confided. “The water was dreadfully cold. Mrs. Brown made her a tonic to ward off illness after the doctor saw to her. Pure fright, he proclaimed. Nothing more. She needs rest now. And warmth.”

Damon had been petrified to think of Joy falling prey to the fevers and chills that had overtaken her mother.

“And what of you?” She pulled a chair close on the opposite side of Joy’s bed. “You will likely face sickness, too.”

He grimaced at her concern. “I will be well.”

His shoulders tensed. Just as he’d remained well as Sarah battled for her life.

Damon watched the woman smooth Joy’s blond hair away from her face and adjust the blankets at her throat. How had she gone from battling his children to this affection, this seemingly innate connection?

Perhaps it was the governess who’d fallen under Joy’s and Abram’s charms.

Either way, it didn’t matter. Miss Samuels truly cared for his children, and that brought him a measure of peace he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

“Abram is reading in his room,” she said. “Cook will bring a meal to him shortly.”

“Thank you for tending to him.” Gratitude filled him. Damon had seen the boy to his room, quickly changed into dry clothes, and then returned to Joy.

“My wife passed four years ago.”

As if he needed to share this detail—or bring up the topic at all with everything that had transpired at the park. It was difficult to live under his roof without being reminded of Sarah’s absence. It was likely the same for everyone living at Ashford Hall.

“It is the reason I’ve hired governess after governess,” he said, turning to stare at Joy, a new tenderness blossoming within him. “I am not the right man to care for my children, to teach them, to be…anything.”

“I think you are the only man to do all those things. You are their father.”