Page 62 of The Gambler Wagers Her Baron

She cleared the lump from her throat before she spoke. “Thank you for escorting the children, my lord.”

When there was no sound behind her, Payton lifted her chin—and the rag—to continue with her chore. She didn’t need an explanation of why he preferred that she remain at the house while they went to the museum. She did not need to see the regret in his stare over their brief, intimate encounter outside Joy’s room. Blast it all, but she could not be made to forget the entire night if he continued as he was.

She was not part of their family, would never have that luxury—nor did she want it.

Her place at Ashford Hall was merely temporary.

She was replaceable to the baron and his children, just as she could replace them and her position as a governess with another household—if she so chose.

She’d been begging herself to believe all this, to grasp the truth of it and hold it close, if only for her protection. For her, it didn’t matter what her place was with the baron and his children, nor that it was temporary. Never in all her years had she dreamt of a future as a governess. There was no freedom in that fate, and if she accepted that her life held nothing else, then it was where she would remain.

She sensed his eyes on her back, watching…waiting.

What was he waiting for? Her approval at his decision to leave her out of their outing even though it had been her idea to take the children?

The baron didn’t need her approval on any matter, least of all his children, and especially his comings and goings.

She squeezed her eyes tight, remembering her foolish idea from the night before. Directly upon returning to the townhouse from Craven House, she’d sought out the baron in his study, thinking if they spoke—really discussed what had happened in Joy’s room—they could put it behind them. Marce had always been a firm believer in communication. If a person spoke of something enough, clarity would follow. In this case, Payton would listen as he admitted that their kiss had been a mistake, that any private time between them was best avoided, and they’d both laugh with relief and go on about their duties.

Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how she looked at it, that hadn’t happened.

Damon hadn’t returned from his evening out.

Worse yet, Mr. Brown had caught her leaving the baron’s study. The butler’s knowing look had made Payton wonder if news of their master kissing the hired help had spread through the servants’ quarters already.

What if Joy and Abram heard the rumblings of scandal?

She could not bear to hurt them any more than they’d already been harmed by their mother’s death.

“Are you certain my taking the children without you is wise?” he whispered, suddenly closer than she’d expected. His footsteps had made no sound as he walked across the schoolroom. “They would prefer you join—”

“My lord.” She pivoted, and the book slipped from under her arm and thumped to the floor. Neither made any move to collect it. “I agree it is best that I allow you to take the children.”

“I never said it was best,” he sighed.

He was a mere two feet from her. So close, his scent traveled toward her, a familiar blend she’d come to expect when he was near.

“Payton, I…”

“Miss Samuels,” she sighed. It had to be Miss Samuels to him. There were no more private moments, no more stolen kisses in the dark. She was his children’s governess—nothing more. “Joy and Abram are your children. You are quite competent to escort them to the museum without my accompaniment, I assure you. Do enjoy your day.”

His shoulders sagged. Had he expected something different from her?

She had expected something entirely different from him, as well. Going on about his usual tasks, especially taking Joy and Abram out was nearly unbelievable. Life was not always what a person expected, though. She knew that well enough, as should the baron. Life was unfair and normally unpredictable.

He reached out, taking her free hand and rubbing his thumb across her palm.

“Miss Samuels—”

She pulled her hand from his grasp and clasped both behind her back, the rag wadded up in her fist. She hadn’t any idea what game he played at, but she was tired of playing along. One moment, he pushed her away, And the next, he stood far too close for her to keep her thoughts in order.

“The children will be back any moment, my lord.” She narrowed her eyes at him and straightened her shoulders. “It would be unwise to allow them to see us standing so close.”

They both took a step back at the same time the children raced back into the room. Joy had chosen her black, knee-length coat with the brass buttons and a bonnet, while Abram had his jacket slung over his shoulder but had donned his small Hessians that matched his father’s.

“Children, I think it would be wise to bring your notebooks,” Payton called as the baron turned away from her. “In case you learn something interesting or want to sketch an exhibit to discuss later.”

Joy’s grin dimmed, but Abram readily collected his notebook and pencil nub from his desk.