Page 76 of The Gambler Wagers Her Baron

Abram halted and turned toward Damon, a hopeful glint in his eyes. “Do you know William Drummond?”

“The poet?” He searched his memory for any other Drummond, but none came to mind.

“Yes,” Abram said as he sat. “Miss Samuels thought it best I expand my educational goals and study poetry. I thought it nonsense, as there is little reason for a historian to study such things as literature; however, I promised her.”

“And how are you faring at the task?” Damon pulled Joy’s seat out for her to sit and then pushed it in when she was ready.

“Admirably, I assure you. Though I find literature is unlike history. Or science.”

Damon took his own seat, and a footman hurried forward with an extra place setting for him. “How so?”

“Well, in the poem To The Nightingale, I suspect Drummond is not speaking of a feathered bird at all, but something wholly different…and scandalous.” Abram’s cheeks flushed red at his insinuation, and he glanced nervously toward Joy as if he’d misspoken in mixed company. “But I cannot think of any reason Miss Samuels would think I have something to learn from poets and their convoluted, misleading poems.”

Damon averted his stare by filling his and Joy’s plates with fruit tart pastries and plump cherries with pudding.

Pastries and pudding instead of boiled eggs and toast. There was little hope that the news of Miss Payton’s departure had not already spread through the servants’ quarters. Cook was coddling the children in preparation for the disappointment to come when they learned of their governess’s departure.

“When will Miss Samuels be well again?” Joy asked.

“Soon, I hope,” Abram replied, filling his own plate.

“I shall visit her after our meal.” Joy turned to look out the window at the garden below. “Mayhap a bouquet of posies will brighten her day.”

Damon’s spirits sank further. “I am afraid Miss Samuels is not at Ashford Hall. She is resting at her own home.” At least Damon hoped she had a home to return to.

“Where is it?” Joy prodded. “After I fell into the pond and nearly drowned—”

“Do not be overdramatic, Joy,” Abram chastised. “You merely swallowed a bit of water when you thought yourself an adequate swimmer.”

Joy stuck out her tongue at her brother before continuing, “As I was saying, when I nearly drowned, Miss Samuels remained by my bedside. I should do no less for her. Isn’t that correct, Father?”

Her shining, green eyes looked up into his, and Damon was hesitant to extinguish the light in the girl’s face.

“That will not be possible.” Damon shook his head, all his nerves failing him at Joy’s upturned face. They couldn’t be there to comfort Payton—Payton had left them. However, breaking his daughter’s heart would be his undoing. “Miss Samuels’ note said the sickness is contagious, and we mustn’t visit for fear of falling ill ourselves.”

The lie fell from his lips far too easily, though that did not stop the guilt from pooling in his stomach. At some point, sooner rather than later, he’d need to tell them the truth—hopefully, before they overheard the news from one of the servants.

Yet, Damon lacked the courage to speak the words, for when he did, things would be final.

He’d thought he would feel a sense of relief with Payton’s parting. No longer did it matter what had transpired between them—and what hadn’t. What had been said, and what remained unsaid. As was always the case, it was only him and the children. Their small family of three.

The children had gotten on well with Flora and her lady’s companion the day before when they dined together. They’d appeared happy and content, while Flora had taken an interest in Joy’s love of horses and Abram’s habit of comparing anything and everything to a battle from years past.

In time, Damon would find a new governess for the children, and it would be like Payton had never come into his household. She’d been their governess for a mere six weeks. Certainly, that was not enough time for the children to form such an affection that they would mourn her.

This was what he wanted, after all. Damon had become far too attached himself, and that did not bode well for anyone.

Damon ate his meal slowly and in silence, waiting for the tension to release within him.

It did not happen.

He’d let Payton walk out of his house without even attempting to change her mind. He’d languished over the idea of going after her, but he feared it would only make matters worse and push her farther away.

Perhaps it would take time for normalcy to return, just as it had taken time for his children to latch on to their new governess.

Damon shook his head to dispel any thoughts of Payton, their kiss, and the draw between them that had grown so powerful he could no longer ignore it.

With time, the attraction and memories would fade until she no longer came to mind at all.