Chapter 18
Payton pulled the pins from her hair, allowing her gathered waves to hang freely down her back before she threw herself on the chaise in Marce’s gold and red office. Her long, mahogany curls trailed on the rug below where she lay, but she paid it no mind.
The room was startlingly empty without her eldest sister on her throne behind the feminine desk.
How many times had Payton been summoned to this very room while Marce held court over her younger, impertinent, disobedient siblings?
She’d been beckoned to attend her sister when she was caught pickpocketing with Ellie when they were only twelve.
She’d been hauled into the room by Garrett when he found her cheating at cards at a dinner party.
She’d been taken to task in this very room when Marce discovered her slipping into her upstairs window after a night wandering Covent Garden.
It all seemed a lifetime ago. And childish.
She’d been so contrary in her youth.
Difficult to believe that she’d changed so much since her arrival at Ashford Hall.
When had her actions begun to have such severe consequences?
When had her words taken on such import?
Her plans for her independence, her life to come, had developed since she’d moved out of Craven House.
They’d become more real and encroaching, if that were even possible; as if she were only now coming to understand the gravity of her choices.
And why had the baron taken any interest in her?
He’d all but ignored her since their kiss, only joining her and the children for meals. Nothing more.
She scoffed at Damon’s earlier declaration.
He planned to spend his evening away from Ashford Hall, as well.
The man hadn’t spent so much as a single evening outside his townhouse in all the weeks she’d lived there.
He rarely even left during the daytime, but he thought to go out tonight. But why even speak of it to her?
She ran her hands through her loose hair, her fingers tangling in the long waves, and she had to tug several times to free them.
Footsteps sounded in the hall, likely Mr. Curtis coming to collect her to return to the baron’s house. It was as they’d done over a dozen times since she’d taken the position as the Ashford governess, the only difference being that she knew that Damon would not be home when she returned.
Where could the man have gone?
The door to the office opened without a knock, and Payton twisted on the chaise, her head hanging off the side.
“What in heavens are you doing?” Her brother filled the open doorway.
From her vantage point, Garrett was upside down…the entire world topsy-turvy.
“Wallowing,” she offered. “You?”
“Hiding,” he mused, sinking onto the chaise beside her.
“I never thought I’d say this, let alone admit it to you. However,” she paused, shifting her head back onto the chaise, “I miss Marce…and Jude.”
“What of Samantha?” he jested.
Payton wrinkled her nose. “She can remain abroad with Ridgefeld.”
At that, Garrett chuckled, setting his hand on her outstretched legs. “Sam is a bit of an oddity, is she not?”
“We are all peculiar in our own way; however, she lacks Jude’s empathy.”
“What do you know of empathy?” he asked.
“More and more as the days go by, I fear,” she mumbled, lifting her neck slightly to clasp her hands behind her head.
“Is my little Pay growing up?”
“I have never been your little Pay, Garrett,” she retorted but laughed when he feigned injury. “It is only that life is difficult, and decisions are not always easy. Do you think Jude’s choice to wed Simon was something she labored over?”
“What has you pondering marriage?” He pinched her leg through her skirts, and she kicked at him to stop.
“Not marriage, but change.” She wasn’t certain what she hoped Garrett would say. “What of you? Was it difficult to make the decision to move on, to leave us, departing Craven House for life at the Albany?”
“I wasn’t moving on or leaving you,” he grunted.
“I am a man. Despite my meager inheritance from my father, I cannot expect Marce to take care of me forever. I have to find my own way in life. But I did not move on from my family. I hope to one day have something to give the four of you. At the moment, I can give Marce some semblance of contentment knowing that I can care for myself.”
“Jude is wed to Simon, and Sam to Elijah. You are living at the Albany and doing Lord only knows what during your time away from Craven House.” She snuck a glance at him, hoping he’d share a bit of what he was up to when he was not with her, but he remained silent.
Every time she attempted to gain a peek into his London life, he said nothing…
or evaded her questions with comments such as hiding with no further explanation.
“I suppose it is only I who Marce has to fret over now.”
“Not true.” He shook his head. “She is pleased that you are doing well in the baron’s employ. Perhaps that is why she left so unexpectedly for one of her mysterious trips. She is satisfied we are all cared for, Perhaps, she will find a husband herself before long.”
Payton snorted, and Garrett broke into unrestrained laughter.
The thought of their eldest sister…with a man…was preposterous.
“Marce will wed the same day I swear off the gaming tables,” Payton chuckled, her stomach aching from her deep laughter. “Besides, she can’t marry. What would happen to Craven House?”
“I suppose she’d have no use for the property.”
“What if I moved home?”
His brow rose before his stare narrowed on her. “Are you leaving your post at Lord Ashford’s?”
“Of course, not.” She sat up, swinging her feet to the floor. “I only meant, what if I ever needed to return to Craven House?”
“You are not the young girl you once were. With time, I have no fear you’ll figure things out without having to return home.” He shrugged. “Beyond that, it is not my concern. Men only at the Albany. Do not think to cast yourself at my feet for housing.”
Her brother jested, as was his defense when conversations took on a serious tone.
“Thankfully, I’d rather throw myself on Sam’s mercy than request lodging with you, dear brother.”
He wiped his forehead in mock relief. “That is wonderful news, as my paltry funds would not last long with both of us at the tables.”
Payton had thought several times of taking her fifteen shillings and returning to 10 Mill Street in an attempt to triple her savings, but since her kiss with Damon, the thrill of a high-stakes game had lost its luster.
Perhaps the allure hadn’t diminished, per se, but she longed for something entirely different.
Not the adventure that came from laying all she’d acquired on the line with the threat of losing it all.
Perhaps she’d discovered other activities—or people—who gave her the same thrill… posed the same risk.
“If you have your own funds, my friend Davenport and I are attending a party this evening—with a card room. I am certain he wouldn’t mind if you joined us.” His eyes widened. “In fact, you might lend an air of respectability.”
“That is ever so kind of you, but I should be returning to the baron’s house.” She pondered remaining at Craven House for the night and having Mr. Curtis return her before first light. “The butler, a most kind man, does not take to his bed until the entire household is accounted for.”
“If you must,” Garrett mused, pushing to his feet.
“Who are you hiding from?” she asked, almost as an afterthought.
He eyes flitted toward the door—his escape—before he turned back to her with an easy smile. “Did I say hiding earlier? I meant picking up an old coat I left here a few nights ago.”
“Good evening, Garrett,” she called as he departed the room.
“I’ll inform Mr. Curtis you are ready to return to Ashford Hall,” he tossed over his shoulder.
Suddenly, she longed to be back at Damon’s residence, if only to make sure he arrived home safely.