Chapter 21
Payton leapt down from the Craven House carriage, startling Mr. Curtis with her unexpected and unladylike jump onto the Ashford walk. She hadn’t bothered to instruct the Craven House servant to park down the street. It would not take her long within the townhouse.
“Do wait here, please, Mr. Curtis,” she threw over her shoulder as she stalked to the front door. “I shall only be a few moments.”
She didn’t wait for his response but raised her gloved hand to knock. The door swung open to reveal Mr. Brown’s grinning, wrinkled face.
“Good morn, Miss Samuels.” He stood back and allowed her entrance. “I was beginning to worry.”
It had taken all of Payton’s resolve not to return to Ashford Hall the night before and tell the baron precisely what she thought of him. He was aloof, cold, distant, and highly unqualified to be raising two children.
However, she’d adjusted her plans by the time the sun rose.
“Good morning, Mr. Brown.” The hour was ungodly early at only seven o’clock. It would be best if she collected her things, left the letter on the baron’s desk, and departed before the household was fully awake. “Is the baron in his study yet this morning?”
Payton started for the stairs, and the butler fell into place beside her, matching her long strides. “He is, in fact, up early this morning and already at work.”
Her step faltered. “Lord Ashford is awake and in his study already?”
The butler nodded toward the baron’s office where the door stood ajar.
She hadn’t expected to find him up and already below stairs.
In fact, she’d hoped he’d be having a lie-in after hosting his gaming evening the previous night, giving her another thirty minutes at least to pack her room, leave her letter, and escape before Damon or the children came downstairs to take their morning meal.
Her hopes had been dashed, though her anger had yet to ebb.
Grasping her skirts, she held them up from the floor and started for the study.
Speaking directly to the baron would have to do as he would certainly hear the commotion if she attempted to remove her trunk from Ashford Hall and move it out to the walk where Mr. Curtis waited.
“Shall I announce you, Miss Samuels?” The elder servant attempted to keep pace with her but was falling behind.
“No need.” Payton slipped into the study and closed the door at the same moment the butler scoffed at the brashness of her entering unbidden.
“Miss Samuels?” Confusion laced Damon’s voice, and her shoulders tensed at the softness. “Good morning. It is lovely to have you back. I do hope you enjoyed—”
“Stop,” she commanded, taking a deep breath before leveling her narrowed stare on the baron.
She needs must think of him as the baron or better still, Lord Ashford if she had any hope of making it through this without showing the bloody man how much it hurt her.
She took her painstakingly neat letter from the pocket of her cloak.
It had taken nearly three hours to write it as she attempted to collect her words yet keep her emotions out of the situation.
He stood from his desk, his eyes trained on the paper clutched in her hands.
“What have you there, Payton?” She detected a hint of unease in his tone.
Payton glanced down at her hands before raising her chin and pointedly staring at him across the room, attempting to keep her irritation at bay at his insistence on using her given name.
Why had she kissed him and allowed him to kiss her back?
If it hadn’t been for that brief lapse in judgment, she would be able to continue on as Joy and Abram’s governess.
That wasn’t true.
The boundaries had been crossed long before their kiss.
What of the night he’d invited her into this very room and offered her a drink?
She’d accepted without a second thought.
It was in that moment that things had changed between them.
He was no longer the aloof, reserved baron who all but ignored his children, and she was no longer the ill-tempered governess who couldn’t bring his children to heel.
They’d come to an unspoken agreement as they shared a scotch. He’d told her of the woman he’d lost, and she’d shared a bit about her past.
Now, there was nothing of the quiet, intimate moment remaining.
By the light of day, everything was different. He was different, and she most definitely was.
She walked toward his desk and held out the letter. “My resignation letter, my lord.”
After he’d taken the paper from her, she could do nothing but twine her fingers, squeezing them so tightly, her knuckles surely turned white beneath her gloves.
She could not look at him—did not want to see the satisfaction on his face to know that he did not have to release her and commit to severance pay.
Payton was undertaking the difficult task herself.
She heard, rather than saw him unfold the letter.
It would be wise for her to pivot and depart the room. She hadn’t many possessions at Ashford Hall, mainly a handful of dresses, two pairs of slippers, boots, underpinnings, and her brushes. A few hairpins and ribbons—but not much else.
When she’d taken the position as governess, she’d arrived with only her traveling trunk. In truth, she could have carried all her possession if the need had arisen. Thankfully, Mr. Curtis waited just outside the townhouse.
“You are leaving?” he whispered.
She glanced up to see Damon’s questioning stare.
“I think it best I move on,” she replied. Her voice remained steady without so much as a waver in her tone.
“Best for whom?”
“For all considered.” She’d expected this to be the easy part, giving her notice and collecting her things.
“You think to know what’s best for me?” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “For my children?”
She cleared her throat. “My apologies, my lord. Best for me, this is best for my future.”
“Where will you go?” he demanded.
Belatedly, she realized he had no intention of making this easy for her, even though they both knew this was what they both wanted.
Of all the questions, why would he be concerned with where she went after departing his employ?
“Home, though that is none of your concern.” She bit out the words with more force than intended.
“What of the children?” Was it hurt that etched his face? “They need a governess, Miss Samuels.”
“And you shall find another. If you haven’t already.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Come now, my lord—”
“Damon,” he all but growled across the desk.
“That is improper and far too informal, Lord Ashford.” Every word was like a dagger to her chest. She wanted to call him by his given name, just as she wanted to hear her name from his lips at least once more.
“We both know after what happened, this is best. You will find another suitable governess, and the children will continue to thrive. Of that, I have no doubt.”
“Nothing has changed.” He pounded his fist on the desk, causing Payton to flinch. “You know that as well as I.”
She shook her head. “We both know it is impossible to return to the way things were.”
“Damnation,” he hissed. “I do not want you to leave, and my children need you.”
Payton laughed, though the sound rang false and hollow.
Was she using their kiss as an excuse to escape?
Certainly, she was not misreading everything that’d transpired since that night.
The baron had all but demanded she leave that night and proceeded to give her the next afternoon off.
They both knew what’d happened between them was a mistake and could never happen again.
The only way to make sure it didn’t was for the baron to be rid of her and hire another governess.
He was pushing her away.
She was not fleeing.
And it was all for good reason.
She remembered his words from before. That he didn’t want to care about her or any servant to come.
“Be that as it may”—she shook her head ruefully—“I must. Wants and needs cannot outweigh everything else. Besides, you know it is for the best. You’ve already started the process of finding someone to replace me.”
“That is ludicrous,” he snapped, his entire body tense, even as his eyes softened.
Payton slipped her fists into the pockets of her cloak to hide her clenched, aching hands.
This was for the best…she knew that, and Damon knew that, despite his denial.
This arrangement had never been meant to be permanent.
It had come to its natural conclusion, and she would not mourn it, only look to what would come next for her.
“It is not ludicrous, nor unexpected, my lord.” She took a step back at the same time his eyes lightened with…what? Anger? Betrayal? Confusion?
There was nothing to be angry over. She couldn’t allow any feelings of betrayal as they owed one another nothing.
His confusion was what kept her in the room.
Damon had no right to be confused about her leaving her position.
He was the one meeting with another governess.
He was the one relieving her of her duties and granting her days off.
He was the one avoiding her at every turn.
“If you will allow me to pack my things—”
His glared burned feverishly into her as he rocked forward. “Do you think I would have settled your gaming debt with Catherton if I expected you to pack your things and disappear into the night?”
His confession was akin to a slap across the face. All these weeks, she’d been set on earning her own way, taking care of herself, and truly living a life free from oversight. How had she not noted that hadn’t been the case at all?
“I am not disappearing into the night, Damon.” Her voice was a near shout before she fell silent, every nerve in her body on alert.
She’d been a fool, harrying to and fro in an attempt to find a way to repay the duke, when Damon had already seen to the matter as if she were the baron’s charge.
“You paid my debt to the duke? How did you…why would you…I cannot…”
He held his hand out between them, palms up. “You, obviously, did not have the means to settle your debt.”
“That is not for you to judge, Lord Ashford.” Fury rolled under her skin, and her face grew heated at his highhandedness. “How dare you.”
“How dare I?” he demanded. “How dare you enter my home on a lark, disguised as a proper lady of the ton, only to abscond when your debt grew too large to handle.”
She sucked in a breath as if he’d physically struck her.
He knew her ruse as the masked woman. He’d overstepped his bounds by settling her debt with the duke.
And now he challenged her standing as a proper woman.
She may be little more than the daughter of a blacksmith and his whore, but never had she lowered herself to crying off when her debts seemed insurmountable.
She was a gambler, but never an outright thief.
“You go too far,” she hissed, suppressing the urge to stomp her foot in fury. “No man will ever own me.”
Was this what her mother had feared most? When a man thought himself above his position and misguidedly assumed that a woman needed to be cared for. Payton could take care of herself. She might owe money, but no one controlled her. Except, now, the baron owned her.
It was no longer Catherton who held her debt but Damon.