Page 65 of The Gambler Wagers Her Baron

“I haven’t any notion.” Damon picked up his fork and speared an egg on his plate, popping it into his mouth.

If she thought to bring up the subject of boarding school—with the children present—she would be sorely peeved when he gave her the same answer he’d given for years now. What other reasoning could she have for demanding they meet her?

Could she know of the disastrous card night with Miss Samuels and the Duke of Catherton? No, the duke would never admit that he’d been swindled and left owed a debt.

Maybe it was long past time Joy and Abram spent more time with Flora. She was their only other relation besides him. With Sarah gone, Joy would one day need a woman to guide her in society, and Damon knew of no other for the task. A relationship between Joy and her aunt would not harm his daughter, and could only do a world of good for his sister. If there was one thing Flora was gifted at, it was making her way in society. Indeed, if she spent some time with Joy—and Abram—Flora would come to care for them, much like an aunt should for her niece and nephew.

Joy bent over her plate, her blond hair brushed and hanging freely down her back as she finished her toast with orange jam. The same orange jam he favored.

His heart squeezed with affection. He wanted the best for her—both now and in the future. If that meant a closer relationship with her only female relation, then it was what needed to be done. Damon had spent so many years neglecting his children’s needs while feeding his own despair. It had to end.

If—or more accurately, when—Payton left them, Joy would benefit from Flora’s presence. No matter his sister’s aversion to children, at least she could be a constant in Joy’s and Abram’s lives—something he couldn’t expect of Payton or any governess that might follow.

“Do you have a pretty frock to wear?” he asked.

Joy’s sparkling, moss-green eyes caught his as she bit her bottom lip. “Perhaps. Do you think Aunt Flora would prefer a light green dress or peach?”

“I would assume”—he leaned toward her as if captivated by the conversation—“peach. And would you like to know why?”

When she only smiled and nodded, he continued.

“Because you are as sweet as a peach.”

“Oh, Father,” she giggled, slipping from her seat. “I will be ready on time.”

She flitted from the room, dancing the entire way until all he could hear was her humming as she skipped down the hallway to the stairs.

Damon longed for even a fraction of Joy’s lighthearted nature. Perhaps then he would not dwell so much on the past or fret so intensely about their future.

Payton walked briskly down Piccadilly, the early afternoon sun warming her skin and invigorating her spirit. An entire night at Craven House without any of her siblings in residence had been almost too much to bear. Quiet, without a thing to attend to, she’d languished about the house with nothing to occupy her time but her own thoughts.

The moment she left Craven House, her spirits had begun to lift.

It made little sense. Freedom and independence would mean periods of time spent alone. Solitude was something she should relish. Nevertheless, she’d done nothing but think about those she’d rather be with. Namely, Damon and the children. She’d wondered who’d selected the perfect frock for Joy or if Abram ever left his studies long enough for a spot in the sun. What of Damon? Had he returned to his study? Did he wonder where she was and if she thought of him—their kiss.

Damon’s maudlin mood, which had lifted over the last several days, had instead settled on her.

Mr. Curtis had deposited her on Piccadilly and promised to return for her a few hours later.

She hadn’t anything to buy, nor the funds to spend; however, her new gown, along with Joy’s, should be ready at the modiste’s shop. She could imagine the girl’s excitement when she arrived back at Ashford Hall with their new frocks.

Perhaps they would don the finery and dine together in the schoolroom.

Payton laughed, her arm bumping a passing gentleman.

“Pardon, miss,” he called over his shoulder but kept pace as he continued away from Payton.

The walk was busy for the time of day; however, the warm weather was likely a draw to tempt everyone from their residences.

Snippets of conversation floated around her as she walked. The creak of carriage wheels and the clop of horse hooves passed her on the street. It was almost enough to keep her mind from wandering back to Damon—errr, Lord Ashford, and his insistence that she take the previous afternoon and evening off. Never, in the several weeks she’d been the Ashford governess, had the baron given her time off that wasn’t her regular day. Even more confusing, he planned to spend time with his children—away from the townhouse.

Why should she feel left out? Hadn’t it been her goal to have the baron connect with his children?

She hadn’t expected it to happen so swiftly. That was all.

She took a deep breath. The smell of fresh bread and savory meat drifted on the air, and her stomach let out a loud growl. Glancing around, she set her hand against her midsection, hoping that no one had heard the noise.

Before her were large windows beyond which was a fancy restaurant.