Chapter 17 #2
The baron was going to release her from her duties, Payton was certain of it.
Why else would he demand her presence in his study after ignoring her for so many days?
Letting her go after agreeing to their museum outing would hurt Joy and Abram greatly, possibly more even than their father turning down their invitation to join them.
She stood outside the closed study door for several minutes after the children’s voices had faded as they made their way upstairs.
She smoothed her hands down her skirts, wishing she’d changed her gown before their evening meal.
Chalkdust clung to her bodice, and a spot of ink had found its way onto her sleeve.
At least her hairpins still remained solidly in place.
In her mind, she heard her sister Samantha’s voice, chiding her for neglecting her appearance. “If your dress is pressed and wrinkle-free, your hair is in place, and your gloves pristine, you can command any room, Payton.”
She wanted to laugh at her sister’s irrational thinking.
A woman’s dress, hair, and adornments did not speak for the woman within.
“Miss Samuels?”
Mr. Brown, the Ashford butler, watched her intently where she stood frozen in the hall.
Payton smiled, knowing the elderly servant felt responsible for everyone under the baron’s roof, not just her. He was kind and caring to all the staff, along with the baron and his children. “Good evening, Mr. Brown. The baron asked to speak with me after I finished my meal.”
His lips pursed. “Shall I have Mrs. Brown bring tea?”
“I do not think that necessary but thank you.” It was enough that she’d ruined her place at Ashford Hall, making it impossible to continue on.
But to have the housekeeper witness her disgrace was unthinkable.
“I am certain whatever he has to say will be completed in swift order, and I will be dismissed…to my chambers.”
The butler nodded, his chin falling at a slight angle due to his age. “Very well, miss.”
Nothing was very well; however, there was no need to share that with Mr. Brown.
“Do have a restful night if I do not see you again this evening,” she said with a smile.
Payton faced the door, her hand poised on the latch. Everything her mother had taught her during their short time together was before her. It was time to move on. She should not fear doing so. Life improved with each new opportunity.
Releasing the latch, she raised her hand and knocked to announce her arrival.
“Enter.” The single-word command should have irritated her, but there was no bite behind it.
She pushed the door open and stepped into the study—so familiar after her many conversations with the baron over the last month, yet it remained his private domain. She surveyed the room, finding the baron sitting in his favored chair, facing the open fire.
“Have a seat, Miss Samuels,” he said, his stare never leaving the hearth.
She expected to find a tumbler in his hand, filled with liquor—or empty, depending on how long she’d tarried in the hall.
No glass rested between his fingers nor on the table near his elbow.
In fact, his hands were clenched in tight fists on the armrests of his chair.
Had she upset him again?
“Drink?” he asked, tilting his head toward the sideboard as if inviting her to collect her own.
“No, thank you, my lord.” She lowered to perch on the lounge.
“Not there.”
Payton quickly stood, taking in her other option—a matching chair to the baron’s seat, also facing the fire. Perhaps that was best, at least she wouldn’t have to see the relief on his face when he stripped her of her duties.
She sank into the overstuffed chair, instantly knowing why Lord Ashford preferred the seat over the lounge. The cushion contoured to her bum and back, cocooning her in a softness she’d never experienced before.
The silence between them was almost comforting. He didn’t speak; therefore, he hadn’t told her that she must leave her position.
The minutes stretched on and on, seemingly endless as they both stared into the fire, its warmth wrapping them in its embrace. She longed to ask why he’d requested her presence but was loath to break the quiet stillness around them.
Was this how he spent his hours locked in his study?
Staring into the open flames and merely existing.
Her own upbringing was rarely peaceful with a house full of siblings.
There was always bantering and bickering, slamming doors and pounding feet.
Despite Joy’s and Abram’s childish episodes, the household was orderly and quiet most of the time.
When she first arrived, the overwhelming silence had unnerved her.
Now, she wondered if she could return to the chaos of Craven House—or more importantly, if she wanted to.
Despite knowing that she shouldn’t want to return home, there was a sense of comfort in the chaotic nature of her childhood home.
She’d spent the last several months preparing for her future—a future outside the bounds of her family—yet the lure of home picked at her subconscious.
Obviously, with no money to her name, and her debt with the duke still unsettled, she had no other choice.
Perhaps that was what made it all so troubling: the idea that the choice was once again being stripped from her.
At her side, the baron’s brow furrowed, his fists clenching and unclenching as if he worked through something in his mind. His breathing was shallow and quick, tension evident in the set of his shoulders and back.
He’d appeared at ease and almost jovial in the dining hall despite his mood turning solemn after she’d spoke out in his defense.
At the moment, he seemed to have returned to the man she’d met when she first came to Ashford Hall.
Burdened and…almost defeated. The crushing weight of his indiscernible troubles threatening to finally overtake him.
Payton had been foolish enough to think that their outing and their kiss would change things—anything.
It had certainly changed everything for her. No, not changed, but it had altered her perception.
Perhaps too much time had passed, too many issues remained unsolved, and the damage was far more profound than she’d imagined. Did he struggle with things that she was unaware of?
The clock on the mantel above the hearth chimed seven. She’d asked Mr. Curtis to come and collect her at half past the hour. That left her thirty minutes to have the children abed and herself waiting down the street for the Craven House servant.
The baron had asked her here for a reason, to speak about something, but his silence continued.
“My lord?”
He flinched at her words but kept his narrowed stare focused straight ahead.
“Will you be going out tonight?” His question was unexpected. Besides the night she’d discovered him following her home from Galment’s, he’d never queried her about her comings and goings.
“Yes.” There was no reason to lie.
“I will also be leaving for the evening,” he said. “I will have a carriage readied for your use.”
“I do not need—”
He turned sharply to face her, his entire countenance heavy with something akin to fatigue. That was not something new.
“I will not spend my infrequent evening away from Ashford Hall fretting over you walking the dark streets,” he said in a rush before his lips pressed closed. “Is it not enough I have to worry about my children’s welfare that you will add yourself to the burden?”
“I am a grown woman. A hired servant in your home, my lord,” she replied quietly. “Do you worry when the maid goes to the market? Or a footman out on an errand?”
He remained silent.
“I am no different than a maid or the footman.”
“The bloody hell you are not,” he huffed.
He rubbed the back of his neck, but his built-up tension did not leave, even Payton could see that much.
He breathed in and exhaled, the sound louder than the crackle of the fire.
“Never have I worried over the whereabouts of another governess or maid for that matter, and there have been many with likely more to come. Yet, with you, I…”
The silence stretched between them once more as the tension inside her twisted tightly at the insinuation in his words.
“I do not want to care about you,” he whispered, so softly she wondered if she’d heard him correctly. “When will you return?”
She would not admit that she was fleeing Ashford Hall for Craven House. It was none of his concern—her past, her present, or her future.
“Before the children awaken.” She couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes.
“Very well.” His words sounded flippant to her, but his tone conveyed that things were not well at all.
“I will see to the children and depart for the evening.” Payton stood and started for the door, expecting the baron to stop her. To call for her to return. To command her to remain here, with him. To say or do…something before she crossed the threshold into the hall beyond.
But he remained silent. And still.
If this were how her mother’s entanglements ended, Payton would be happy to leave Damon behind. To hollow silence. The playacting that what had transpired between them had been forgettable and not worth mentioning. The feigned laughter and jesting from the dining hall.
With a sigh, Payton fled the study, keeping her steps measured and unhurried as she made her way to the stairs. The last thing she was willing to do—and she was willing to do many things—was allow the baron to know he’d hurt her as well as his children.