Page 69 of The Gambler Wagers Her Baron

She remembered his words from before. That he didn’t want to care about her or any servant to come.

“Be that as it may”—she shook her head ruefully—“I must. Wants and needs cannot outweigh everything else. Besides, you know it is for the best. You’ve already started the process of finding someone to replace me.”

“That is ludicrous,” he snapped, his entire body tense, even as his eyes softened.

Payton slipped her fists into the pockets of her cloak to hide her clenched, aching hands. This was for the best…she knew that, and Damon knew that, despite his denial. This arrangement had never been meant to be permanent. It had come to its natural conclusion, and she would not mourn it, only look to what would come next for her.

“It is not ludicrous, nor unexpected, my lord.” She took a step back at the same time his eyes lightened with…what? Anger? Betrayal? Confusion?

There was nothing to be angry over. She couldn’t allow any feelings of betrayal as they owed one another nothing. His confusion was what kept her in the room. Damon had no right to be confused about her leaving her position. He was the one meeting with another governess. He was the one relieving her of her duties and granting her days off. He was the one avoiding her at every turn.

“If you will allow me to pack my things—”

His glared burned feverishly into her as he rocked forward. “Do you think I would have settled your gaming debt with Catherton if I expected you to pack your things and disappear into the night?”

His confession was akin to a slap across the face. All these weeks, she’d been set on earning her own way, taking care of herself, and truly living a life free from oversight. How had she not noted that hadn’t been the case at all?

“I am not disappearing into the night, Damon.” Her voice was a near shout before she fell silent, every nerve in her body on alert. She’d been a fool, harrying to and fro in an attempt to find a way to repay the duke, when Damon had already seen to the matter as if she were the baron’s charge. “You paid my debt to the duke? How did you…why would you…I cannot…”

He held his hand out between them, palms up. “You, obviously, did not have the means to settle your debt.”

“That is not for you to judge, Lord Ashford.” Fury rolled under her skin, and her face grew heated at his highhandedness. “How dare you.”

“How dare I?” he demanded. “How dare you enter my home on a lark, disguised as a proper lady of the ton, only to abscond when your debt grew too large to handle.”

She sucked in a breath as if he’d physically struck her. He knew her ruse as the masked woman. He’d overstepped his bounds by settling her debt with the duke. And now he challenged her standing as a proper woman. She may be little more than the daughter of a blacksmith and his whore, but never had she lowered herself to crying off when her debts seemed insurmountable. She was a gambler, but never an outright thief.

“You go too far,” she hissed, suppressing the urge to stomp her foot in fury. “No man will ever own me.”

Was this what her mother had feared most? When a man thought himself above his position and misguidedly assumed that a woman needed to be cared for. Payton could take care of herself. She might owe money, but no one controlled her. Except, now, the baron owned her.

It was no longer Catherton who held her debt but Damon.

Chapter 22

Damon was around the desk before he had time to think, standing face-to-face with Payton, his stare pleading with her to understand. He should be the angry one. He should be the one questioning her motives. He should be the one unsurprised by her determination to leave him.

He was always the one left behind.

“You do not understand,” he said. “Catherton was prepared to call the magistrate, to start a manhunt—a womanhunt—for you. You fled without making good on your debt. He would have scoured the streets of London until he learned your identity. He would not have stopped until you paid dearly for your actions. Catherton’s arrogance and pride would have demanded it of him, even if the debt were a mere shilling.”

“I did not ask for, nor do I want a protector.”

“And I did not ask for a masquerading governess with mounting debts.” He paused, staring down his nose at her attempting to muster a bit of disdain, but failing miserably. “But despite that, here we both are.”

“No, I am leaving.” She pivoted toward the door, and he sneaked out a hand to clasp her upper arm.

“Wait—”

“I will have someone come to collect my things,” she bit out between clenched teeth.

“It was meant as a kindness, nothing more.” The fight left him with those words. Each true and meant to his core. “This is not a debt I expect to be repaid.”

“No debt goes unsatisfied, my lord. I can assure you of that.” She pulled from his grasp and crossed her arms, her pointed glare stopping him from attempting to keep her any longer. “You have overstepped.”

“Overstepped what?” he asked, his hand falling to his side as he fought to urge to clench his fingers into a fist.

She might be angry, but he was not.