Page 87 of The Gambler Wagers Her Baron

Chapter 27

Damon stumbled from his study, moving away from the merriment in his ballroom and toward the front door that would lead him out into the night—and to Payton.

Few people had experienced the hardships he had during his life and the guilt that came with it knowing you held the blame. Except her. She understood the loss of a loved one and how difficult it was to find enough strength within yourself to love—and lose—again.

Love?

Yes, he cared deeply for Payton. He cherished her kindness to his children and her understanding for him. Surely, it could not have progressed to something as profound as love. He barely knew her, beyond their brief moments together. He was attracted to her; no man would be irrational enough to deny that.

What was irrational, was for him to even think the word love regarding a woman he barely knew, a woman who deserved more than an empty shell of a man who hadn’t enough left within him to actively love his own children.

Pressing his outstretched hand against the wall, Damon made his way to the front of the house.

He didn’t know what to call the draw he felt for Payton, but if he could convince her to speak with him, they would figure it out—together. He would tell her all he should have confessed before—before he’d begun to push her away, before she’d discovered he’d paid her debt, and before she’d left.

Raised voices drifted toward him, and he slowed, pushing into the shadows to avoid being seen. The last thing he wanted was to be waylaid in the foyer when he desperately needed the solitude of his room. He wanted to be alone with his musings somewhere his servants wouldn’t happen upon him.

“Unhand me!” a woman’s voice growled.

“Your Grace, please,” Mr. Brown pleaded. “Let the lady go. I will find Lord Ashford, and you can speak privately about this matter.”

“This lady is a conniving swindler.” The Duke of Catherton’s furious tone was unmistakable. “Summon the magistrate now, and I will be pleased to meet with the baron when the magistrate arrives; however, she has been known to disappear. I will not release her until the authorities are called.”

Damon pushed from the shadows, his head clearing as he stepped into the foyer.

Catherton stood below the bottom stair, his hand grasping a woman’s elbow as she frantically tried to pull away. Mr. Brown attempted to push in between the pair.

The duke and his butler jostled, blocking Damon’s view of the altercation. Who was the woman? Gowned and masked in cream, pearls at her throat, Damon didn’t recognize her from the ballroom.

“Catherton,” Damon’s voice echoed off the high ceiling in the foyer. “Remove your hands from her before I have you removed from this house and thrown headfirst into the Thames.”

Both men froze, allowing the woman to pull from Catherton’s clutches.

Damon’s heart beat rapidly before stopping. It could not be…but it was.

Wearing a cream evening dress with a mask to match, Payton’s signature single mahogany curl hung over her shoulder, teasing the lace of her bodice. How he had not spotted her so clearly before, Damon would never know. Now, he saw only her—even with her mask as a guise. He blinked several times, but she did not disappear or morph into another woman. He knew the sparkling, deep blue eyes hidden behind her mask. He was familiar with the feel of her soft, lush lips against his. He could almost hear the melody of her laughter, or the dark tone of her voice when she was called to anger.

“Lord Ashford.” Catherton straightened his coat and dipped to retrieve his mask from the floor. “Our thief has returned.”

“She is not a thief,” Damon seethed. “Her debt to you was settled. You have your money; therefore, there are no grounds for you causing a scene in my house.”

Payton looked between Damon and the duke before turning to glance at the closed door.

There was nothing more he wanted than to ask her why she was here. Had she come back to speak with him or merely to gamble?

“I apologize,” he confessed, holding her stare. “For the duke’s rude behavior. You are free to leave.”

“Over my bloody body will she be allowed to leave,” Catherton thundered. “I have a grievance with this woman, and I will see it resolved.”

He pointed his finger at Payton with each word, and Damon had the urge to prod the man in return. He took a step forward.

Footsteps sounded from down the hall, and Damon felt the inquisitive stares of his guests as they pushed closer to absorb any gossip they could overhear. The murmurs of the group left no doubt that his gaming evening would be the talk of the ton come morning light.

He didn’t want that for Payton. She deserved better than to be exposed in the gossip rags.

Meeting Payton’s eyes once more, Damon noted that they’d softened—even lightened in color—behind her mask. She should be terrified. Bloody hell, the duke was a fierce and formidable adversary. Yet, that was not what he saw in her eyes.

It was almost as if she regretted being caught by Catherton because of the impact on him.