Page 59 of The Gambler Wagers Her Baron

“More and more as the days go by, I fear,” she mumbled, lifting her neck slightly to clasp her hands behind her head.

“Is my little Pay growing up?”

“I have never been your little Pay, Garrett,” she retorted but laughed when he feigned injury. “It is only that life is difficult, and decisions are not always easy. Do you think Jude’s choice to wed Simon was something she labored over?”

“What has you pondering marriage?” He pinched her leg through her skirts, and she kicked at him to stop.

“Not marriage, but change.” She wasn’t certain what she hoped Garrett would say. “What of you? Was it difficult to make the decision to move on, to leave us, departing Craven House for life at the Albany?”

“I wasn’t moving on or leaving you,” he grunted. “I am a man. Despite my meager inheritance from my father, I cannot expect Marce to take care of me forever. I have to find my own way in life. But I did not move on from my family. I hope to one day have something to give the four of you. At the moment, I can give Marce some semblance of contentment knowing that I can care for myself.”

“Jude is wed to Simon, and Sam to Elijah. You are living at the Albany and doing Lord only knows what during your time away from Craven House.” She snuck a glance at him, hoping he’d share a bit of what he was up to when he was not with her, but he remained silent. Every time she attempted to gain a peek into his London life, he said nothing…or evaded her questions with comments such as hiding with no further explanation. “I suppose it is only I who Marce has to fret over now.”

“Not true.” He shook his head. “She is pleased that you are doing well in the baron’s employ. Perhaps that is why she left so unexpectedly for one of her mysterious trips. She is satisfied we are all cared for, Perhaps, she will find a husband herself before long.”

Payton snorted, and Garrett broke into unrestrained laughter.

The thought of their eldest sister…with a man…was preposterous.

“Marce will wed the same day I swear off the gaming tables,” Payton chuckled, her stomach aching from her deep laughter. “Besides, she can’t marry. What would happen to Craven House?”

“I suppose she’d have no use for the property.”

“What if I moved home?”

His brow rose before his stare narrowed on her. “Are you leaving your post at Lord Ashford’s?”

“Of course, not.” She sat up, swinging her feet to the floor. “I only meant, what if I ever needed to return to Craven House?”

“You are not the young girl you once were. With time, I have no fear you’ll figure things out without having to return home.” He shrugged. “Beyond that, it is not my concern. Men only at the Albany. Do not think to cast yourself at my feet for housing.”

Her brother jested, as was his defense when conversations took on a serious tone.

“Thankfully, I’d rather throw myself on Sam’s mercy than request lodging with you, dear brother.”

He wiped his forehead in mock relief. “That is wonderful news, as my paltry funds would not last long with both of us at the tables.”

Payton had thought several times of taking her fifteen shillings and returning to 10 Mill Street in an attempt to triple her savings, but since her kiss with Damon, the thrill of a high-stakes game had lost its luster. Perhaps the allure hadn’t diminished, per se, but she longed for something entirely different. Not the adventure that came from laying all she’d acquired on the line with the threat of losing it all. Perhaps she’d discovered other activities—or people—who gave her the same thrill…posed the same risk.

“If you have your own funds, my friend Davenport and I are attending a party this evening—with a card room. I am certain he wouldn’t mind if you joined us.” His eyes widened. “In fact, you might lend an air of respectability.”

“That is ever so kind of you, but I should be returning to the baron’s house.” She pondered remaining at Craven House for the night and having Mr. Curtis return her before first light. “The butler, a most kind man, does not take to his bed until the entire household is accounted for.”

“If you must,” Garrett mused, pushing to his feet.

“Who are you hiding from?” she asked, almost as an afterthought.

He eyes flitted toward the door—his escape—before he turned back to her with an easy smile. “Did I say hiding earlier? I meant picking up an old coat I left here a few nights ago.”

“Good evening, Garrett,” she called as he departed the room.

“I’ll inform Mr. Curtis you are ready to return to Ashford Hall,” he tossed over his shoulder.

Suddenly, she longed to be back at Damon’s residence, if only to make sure he arrived home safely.

Chapter 19

Damon stood outside the schoolroom doorway. The room had initially been Joy and Abram’s nursery, but it had been converted for their use as a classroom as soon as they were old enough to no longer need a wet nurse. The pale-yellow draperies had been replaced by muted grey fabric. The twin cradles were moved to the Ashford attic, and the chest of toys transported to Falconcrest for future generations of Ashford children. Even the charcoal drawings and the neat row of nursery books had been done away with in favor of two desks, a tall shelf full of textbooks, and a chalkboard mounted on the far wall.