Page 89 of The Gambler Wagers Her Baron

“Do not be impulsive, Miss Samuels,” Damon said. If the magistrate learned of the incident, Damon would be helpless to save her. She’d be taken from his home and likely disappear, leaving him with little recourse. He wouldn’t allow that fate to befall her. His temper flared for his part in bringing the duke back to Ashford Hall.

Once again, it was his failure that would cause others pain.

“How do you know the woman, Ashford?” the duke demanded, clasping his hands behind his back.

“She is—was—my children’s governess,” Damon offered, hoping the duke would take pity on her…or him. “At the time, I was unaware it was she masquerading at my gaming party. I settled her debt without her knowledge after I discovered her identity.”

“And you did not summon the magistrate yourself? Interesting…” He stared between Damon and Payton, a slow smile spreading across his face. “What are we to do?”

“I am willing to hand myself over to the magistrate and accept my punishment,” Payton muttered with contrition, stealing the breath from Damon’s lungs as if he’d been punched in the gut. “As long as you leave the baron and his family out of the matter. I created this situation. Alone.”

She was willing to sacrifice herself for him and the children? It was inconceivable and unnecessary.

Catherton had stalled calling for the magistrate this long, and Damon suspected the duke never planned to turn her over for punishment in the first place. No, he was the type of lord who took pleasure in doling out his own forms of punishment.

Unfortunately for him, he was unaware of the adversary he faced in Miss Payton Samuels…and the man who loved her.

Damon had no intention of leaving this room until Catherton knew the retribution he’d face if he tarnished Payton’s name and family in any way—or worse, caused her to be detained by the magistrate.

Chapter 28

Damon’s reasoning for settling her debt without consulting her became clear the moment the Duke of Catherton grasped her arm as she attempted to flee back up the grand stairs. Even now, behind the safety of Damon’s massive desk with both men on the other side, the aching pulse in her upper arm from the duke’s crushing hold reminded her that Catherton was not a lord to be trifled with. His face reddened further, and his nostrils flared even more when she proclaimed her willingness to take responsibility for her actions.

It was always bound to come to this.

She’d gambled when she hadn’t the funds to make good on her bets. She’d misread the duke. More than that, Payton had underestimated his skill at the gaming tables.

She had wagered and lost.

And now she would lose far more than the freedom she coveted and the ability to make her own decisions.

She stood to lose Damon and the children, as well. It seemed all the more real and final, far more so than leaving the baron’s employ.

Staring the duke directly in the eyes, Payton waited for his verdict, her outward confidence belying her racing pulse and trembling knees. She’d rather spend eternity in gaol without benefit of proper lighting or meals before she’d allow Catherton to see her weakness—or Damon to witness her losing the tentative grip she had on her fear.

All of Marce’s savings would not buy her freedom from this situation. This was about far more than mere money…yet, she was at a loss as to what Catherton wanted from her.

Payton balled her fists at her sides, praying her flowing skirts hid them from sight.

“She was in my employ at the time, and it is I who should be held accountable for her transgression, Your Grace.”

She couldn’t bring herself to look at Damon as he spoke.

Why would he take the blame for her? Not many days ago, he’d basically told her she was replaceable, and that he merely tolerated her presence. She would have wagered on him in a heartbeat, and he could have turned her out onto the streets without a second thought.

Now, they were both willing to put their names and futures in jeopardy to save the other.

…and the children. What must they think of her after witnessing her confrontation with Catherton? She could only pray that they’d taken to their beds and had not heard the commotion.

A loud thump hit the closed study door with such fierce power that it rattled the latch.

“My lord,” Mr. Brown whined. “I cannot allow you inside Lord Ashford’s study. He is engaged in a very important meeting and has asked not to be disturbed. If you would like to wait in the ballroom, I will be pleased to—”

“I will not wait anywhere but where my sister is.” The malice in Garrett’s normally easygoing voice pierced through the thick, wooden door. “Move out of my way, sir.”

The scuffle continued, and the latch jiggled as if Garrett were attempting to open the door while the butler was still blocking it.

“Is that the magistrate, Ashford?” Catherton demanded, stalking toward the door. “Your servant is denying him entrance.”