Chapter 10
Damon had thought his exhaustion could not possibly worsen; however, after hurrying away from Joy’s bedchamber—the melodic melody of the governess’s voice chasing him—he slept late into the morning without a hint of restful respite.
He walked briskly down the hall and past the schoolroom door, not risking a peek inside through the portal that stood ajar.
Abram’s stern tone warned Joy against knocking his inkwell over.
As if in response, Miss Samuels cautioned Joy against her plan by outlining the consequences if she were to spill the onyx ink on the wood floor.
His steps faltered, but he decided not to interrupt Miss Samuels and his children.
They needed to learn to obey their governess, and Miss Samuels must assert her authority over the pair.
Otherwise, Damon’s household would continue to be disrupted.
After the previous night—the stark honesty between his daughter and the governess—a bond had obviously been formed…
or had it been formed long before last night?
At the very least, it had been reinforced in their private exchange.
He took the stairs two at a time, more to hurry to his study than any amount of lightness to his step.
Mr. Brown nodded when he reached the final step and waited for his master to address him, his face pinched with a certain measure of pain.
“Good morning, Mr. Brown.” Damon greeted, his voice lacking its usual gruffness.
The butler bowed, then straightened quickly to glance over his shoulder toward Damon’s study. “My lord—”
“Out with it,” Damon sighed, glancing at the hall clock. Nearly midday, and he hadn’t even made it to his work yet. “I have a long day ahead of me.”
“Ummm—” Brown stared at the floor. “You have a visitor.”
“A visitor?” Damon asked. “Why was I not summoned?”
Was it Flora again, stopping by unannounced to badger him and create unease in his servants?
It had been less than two days since her last visit.
Even when she was upset over Damon’s refusal to conduct his daily life according to her edicts, Flora was not known to call on him more than once per week.
Had he done something unusual to incur her wrath?
Mr. Brown cleared his throat as he was accustomed to doing when he was nervous and feared inciting Damon’s ire. “After what happened at the party, I had hoped he would take his leave if you did not attend him directly.”
The only thing that had happened at the party was…
“The Duke of Catherton is here?” Any lingering tendrils of exhaustion fled as a new alertness coursed through him. “How long has he been made to wait?”
“Only ten minutes, my lord.”
“Thank you, Mr. Brown.” Damon couldn’t be upset with his butler.
After Damon had gone upstairs to see to his misbehaving children the night of the party, Brown had been charged with escorting the duke and Miss Samuels to his study.
At some point, the governess—still masked—had slipped from the gaming room and absconded into the night, leaving the duke enraged with an unsettled debt.
“Shall I have tea brought round?” the butler asked.
“Heavens, no.” Damon had insisted he would send word to the duke as soon as he located the mystery woman who owed Catherton twenty pounds.
He hadn’t any notion where she’d gone that night, but he knew where she was now, and handing over her identity to Catherton was not an option.
“We shall not endeavor to make the man feel any more welcome than he is.”
Damon needed the governess to remain in his employ. If not for himself, then for Joy and Abram. With her in residence at Ashford Hall, she cared for his children in a way he’d been unable to all these years—something he longed to learn.
“Please make certain the children remain above stairs.” He couldn’t risk the duke spotting Miss Samuels, nor chance his children creating a scene his sister would surely hear about.
“Of course.” The butler nodded stiffly and turned to make his way upstairs.
There was nothing left for Damon to do but appease the duke.
With a casual grin, he entered his study to find the duke pouring himself a healthy tumbler of brandy. If his guest had been any other man, Damon would have laughed and asked him to pour him a drink, as well. Though it wasn’t another man.
“Your Grace.” The greeting was cool as Catherton pivoted to face Damon, his chilling, cold blue eyes nearly cutting him from across the room. “Do have a seat.”
Catherton ignored his offer; instead, he turned to study the portrait above the sideboard.
“My father with his favored hound,” Damon offered.
Still, the duke remained silent. Damon couldn’t help but wonder if it was a tactic the lord regularly used to unhinge his opponents. Not that Damon was in any way the man’s adversary.
Perhaps it was best to discuss the issue at hand and have it finished. “I thought we decided I would—”
“It has been over a day, Ashford…over a day.” The duke drained his tumbler and set it on a nearby table then sauntered across the room toward Damon. “I was under the impression you would handle the matter with haste and have the debt paid.”
“I have been unable to locate the woman in question. My man of business has taken up the search, and will no doubt be contacting me with information soon.”
Catherton’s stare narrowed on him. “I would hate to think you allow such unsavory characters into your home and go so far as to assist them in bilking your friends.”
The only unsavory man in his home was Catherton, and friends was something Damon would never be with the duke.
Reflexively, Damon moved toward his desk, putting Catherton closer to the door.
Damon stalled himself from running his hand through his hair before pivoting to stare over Catherton’s shoulder and out the open door as a wisp of green ducked from view.
The duke moved back toward Damon, grabbing his tumbler from the sideboard and refilling it.
Outside his study, Miss Samuels’ dark hair could be seen as she leaned around the door frame. Was the woman determined to be noticed? If it hadn’t been for the blue dye on her elbow, Damon might have continued on, oblivious to the mystery woman’s identity.
Damon turned in her direction, his brow raising in question before he sauntered across the room and shut the door in her bewildered face before moving to stand behind his desk.
“My home—and my gaming tables—are open to many, Your Grace.” The woman was a fool and certainly should pay for her mistake, but never would he allow Catherton to know her identity.
He opened the drawer near his elbow and retrieved the small box he kept his household funds in.
Each week, he gave Mrs. Brown enough for the market and his servants’ wages.
“If I am not mistaken, you received an invitation from Lady Wittenbottom, my sister.”
“That is of no consequence,” the duke retorted. “I will have the lady’s name and directions immediately. If you cannot be held responsible for those gaming in your home, then I am certain the magistrate will handle the matter swiftly.”
“My sister informed you of my rules. Identities always remain secret.” Damon opened the box and counted out the twenty pounds Catherton was owed.
“Even I do not know all my guests. That is why many come to Ashford Hall. I afford them both privacy and safety. That being said, I do agree you should have your debt settled.”
The sum was not significant for Damon, nor would it affect his household accounts. However, such a debt for a mere governess would be impossible to repay.
“Here is your due.” Damon held the notes out to the man. “I will assume the debt marker and collect.”
“I don’t want your money, Ashford,” the duke hissed. “I want the name of the woman who dared flee before making good on her losses.”
“Even if I knew her name, I would not give it to you.” Damon straightened, sending his haughtiest glare across his desk. “If I were you, I’d take the money, consider the debt settled, and be gone.”
Catherton’s eyes narrowed, and his face reddened at Damon’s audacity.
His brow rose. “And what, may I ask, would you do if you found her name and directions?”
“That is my concern.” The duke snatched the notes and slipped them into his coat pocket, never removing his cold stare from Damon. “Ashford, do not expect me—or any of my friends—to attend Ashford Hall again.”
“I never presumed you would, Your Grace.” There could be no mistaking the intent behind Damon’s retort. “I will bid you good day.”
Behind them, Mr. Brown opened the study door as if he’d had his ear pressed to the wood and gestured for the duke to follow.
Catherton swung around and departed the room without so much as a farewell, not that Damon expected one.
He only hoped Miss Samuels had found her way back upstairs and out of sight.
Damon rubbed his face as he slumped into his chair.
He’d settled Miss Samuels’ debt for a selfish reason.
Damon needed a governess, particularly someone who understood what his children were going through, and she was that person.
He couldn’t help Joy and Abram. Damon was as lost in his own grief as they were.
However, if what he’d witnessed the previous night told him anything, Miss Samuels could help them.
And in so doing, she might save Damon, as well.
If he hadn’t paid Catherton, there was little chance the man would forget the debt or allow Damon to continue his gambling parties without issue. If he could not maintain his gaming evenings, he would need something else to occupy his mind and his time.
He needed the brief reprieve from what his life had become. It was only when he donned his mask that the pain and anguish did not threaten to overtake him with each breath he took. He did not long for the woman he lost. He did not languish over the void that separated him from his children.
And he had no need to face his failures, at least for a brief few hours.