Chapter 22
Damon was around the desk before he had time to think, standing face-to-face with Payton, his stare pleading with her to understand. He should be the angry one. He should be the one questioning her motives. He should be the one unsurprised by her determination to leave him.
He was always the one left behind.
“You do not understand,” he said. “Catherton was prepared to call the magistrate, to start a manhunt—a womanhunt—for you. You fled without making good on your debt. He would have scoured the streets of London until he learned your identity. He would not have stopped until you paid dearly for your actions. Catherton’s arrogance and pride would have demanded it of him, even if the debt were a mere shilling. ”
“I did not ask for, nor do I want a protector.”
“And I did not ask for a masquerading governess with mounting debts.” He paused, staring down his nose at her attempting to muster a bit of disdain, but failing miserably. “But despite that, here we both are.”
“No, I am leaving.” She pivoted toward the door, and he sneaked out a hand to clasp her upper arm.
“Wait—”
“I will have someone come to collect my things,” she bit out between clenched teeth.
“It was meant as a kindness, nothing more.” The fight left him with those words. Each true and meant to his core. “This is not a debt I expect to be repaid.”
“No debt goes unsatisfied, my lord. I can assure you of that.” She pulled from his grasp and crossed her arms, her pointed glare stopping him from attempting to keep her any longer. “You have overstepped.”
“Overstepped what?” he asked, his hand falling to his side as he fought to urge to clench his fingers into a fist.
She might be angry, but he was not.
“Propriety.” Her face reddened. “You have overstepped your place in my life. You are not my guardian, nor do you make any decisions for me, especially those concerning my financial circumstances.”
He wanted to reach out to her and explain the unexplainable. But he held himself still, knowing that once she walked out, he might never see her again. He needed her to remain.
“I will repay my debt to you,” she proclaimed, lifting her chin, yet the action did not hide the glisten of unshed tears in her eyes. “You can begin by keeping my final wages.”
“Payton, I do not…” Damon didn’t want her bloody money, nor any pledge to settle her debts. This was why he’d kept to himself all these years. This was why he’d never taken another wife as his sister had pushed him to do. This was why he kept distance between himself and his children.
With connection, came dependence. With care, came attachment.
And when that connection and care were severed, only loss remained.
He and his children had mourned the loss of Sarah all these years, and the most important thing he’d taught Abram and Joy since then was that distance saved the heart. Governesses came and went. No attachment, no loss.
He’d held on to his misguided notion for so many years, it was difficult to let it go. But since Payton had come into their lives, he’d lost sight of his long-held belief.
When had he—and the children—accepted Payton as part of their family?
When had they decided, without vocalizing it, that this dark-haired woman was different from all the rest?
Despite his best efforts, she had indeed become part of their family. A significant portion if he were being truthful. And they would all suffer from her absence. He’d fooled himself into believing that he needed her for the children.
The truth was, Damon needed Payton for himself.
He’d told himself, year after year, that he’d learned his lesson. He’d given himself entirely to Sarah, reveled in their love, and he’d lost her. She’d left him and the children behind. She’d died and taken his heart with her.
Or at least that was what he’d thought.
But letting Payton go, allowing her to walk out of his home, was something he was unprepared to face.
“You can collect your things, but, I beg of you, allow me to tell Joy and Abram.” The words came out like his last wish.
At her slight nod, Damon knew it was for the best—for both him and his children.
When Payton hesitated, new hope sprang up within him, and the words begging her to stay nearly tumbled from his lips.
He would apologize, and she would forgive him.
They could move past it all and forget. Everything would return to normal.
She would reprise her position as the Ashford governess, and he’d return to his place as the sulking lord.
He would not dwell on their kiss. He would not languish over their severed attachment.
If he promised, would she remain at Ashford Hall, or was she determined to leave him?
Not him, this was not about him. Joy and Abram would be devastated if Payton left. It was for them that he clung to the small sliver of hope.
“I will repay you, Lord Ashford,” she bit out, her tone cold.
“That is not necessary nor needed,” he replied, his hands trembling as he held himself back—from going to her, from holding her close, from not letting her leave.
He wanted to keep her but wasn’t sure how.
He’d thought settling her debt with Catherton had been the right thing to do, but she’d seen it as a presumptuous act intended to form a new debt.
If he begged her to stay, to reconsider, would she see it as him overstepping his place once more?
He hadn’t paid her debt as a means of controlling her. The thought had never crossed his mind.
“Unfortunately, I must.” She turned, her single curl falling over her shoulder to hang down her back as she strode from the room.
Damon listened to her retreating footsteps as they disappeared when she climbed the stairs.
He’d made a colossal mistake; however, he wasn’t sure if it was bringing Payton into his home all those weeks ago or allowing her to walk out now.
It took all his willpower to move to the sideboard and pour himself a drink before slumping into his chair in front of the fire. He set his scotch on the table, forgotten, as he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the seat.
He knew what he listened for—even though he begged himself not to.
The light footsteps of her leaving…for good.
Would she pause in the foyer? Would she return to give him a final goodbye?
Was he strong enough to let her go? Or sufficiently weak if he begged her to stay?
Bloody hell…he wanted her to stay, no matter the cost to him.
He was a fool to think he could fix whatever had gone wrong between him and Payton. At each step, it only grew worse. He made it worse; with his words and his actions.
Damon sat frozen and waited until he heard her coming down the main stairs. Her attempt to slip from the house silently was made impossible as he heard her struggling with her trunk as she slowly made her way down.
To halt himself from rushing from his study to assist her, he grabbed his tumbler and took a long pull.
The scotch burned its way to his stomach as his insides roiled against the spirits so early in the day.
Yet, with what was to come when the children awoke and learned of Payton’s departure, he shouldn’t turn away from the anesthetic provided by the scotch.
It would undoubtedly diminish the ache that would remain after she was gone.
The front door opened to several voices, both male and female.
Likely Mr. Brown and the other servants giving the governess a final farewell.
What seemed like an eternity later, the door closed, and his household fell silent once more.
Miss Samuels was gone.
Relief should lessen the tension in his shoulders. Annoyance at Payton’s sudden departure from her position should flare his anger. It was over, she was gone, and he no longer need fight the urges within him, the draw to take her into his arms, and the desire in his heart to hold her tight.
Yet, he could neither grasp his relief nor anger.
The stark realization that he’d need to start his search for another governess was enough to have him draining his glass.
“My lord?” The partially ajar study door opened behind him. “The Duke of Catherton is here to see you.”
“Tell him I am still abed,” Damon mumbled, massaging his temples.
“I do not think that will do.”
“Tell him I have already departed for a morning meeting.”
“Again, my lord, that will—"
Damon slammed his empty tumbler on the table, refusing to turn toward the butler. “I am in no mood to see the vile man. Get rid of him.”
“Vile man?” The sound of the duke’s Hessians rang across the floor until he stepped on the carpet. “I think I shall endeavor to embrace your words as a compliment, though I dare say they were not meant as one, Ashford.”
“What do you want, Catherton?” Damon stood, turning to face the unwanted duke. “You have your money. We have no other business together.”
The duke gave a gruff laugh before waving Mr. Brown from the room. “I have my money but not the masked lady’s name.”
“What does that matter?”
“It is the only thing that matters, Ashford,” Catherton hissed. “I will have her name and see her punished.”
“We have been over this, Catherton. You have your money…the woman will not be allowed in my home again. It is the best you can hope for.”
“You are more of a simpleton than I thought if you assume this is only about money.”
“I do not know the woman’s identity.” Damon strode to his desk, putting the large expanse of the surface between him and the duke. “If I learn it, you will be the first to know.”
The duke paced farther into the room, picking up Damon’s empty glass and smelling it. “Scotch? This early, Ashford?” His tsk-tsk was as disapproving as possible. “Who was the woman I passed when I arrived?”
The hairs on the back of Damon’s neck stood on end, but he managed to keep his stance from showing his alarm. “My children’s governess.”
“Early to be departing without the children,” Catherton mused. “Not that I am afflicted with children…or the need for a governess.”
“Just as my actions are none of your concern, neither are those of my servants or children.”
“The trunk she carried appeared quite cumbersome.” He set Damon’s glass back on the table, trailing his fingertip along the rim before turning toward the door. “She was very familiar. Perhaps we are acquainted. What is her name?”
Damon would rather shave a pound of his flesh than give the duke so much as Payton’s first name. There was no trust between them nor any kinship lost by denying the duke’s request.
“I think it best if you depart before your line of questioning offends me further.” Damon sat at his desk in an attempt to hide his fury.
“I will have the swindler’s name, Ashford,” the duke said, pivoting back toward Damon. His nostrils flared, and he narrowed his glare on his supposed adversary. “Even without your help. I do not take kindly to being bilked, especially by a woman.”
Damon flipped open a folder on his desk and lowered his head as if to read, signaling that their meeting had come to its conclusion. “I wish you all the luck in your endeavor to locate the mystery woman. Again, I will send her directions to you immediately if I discover her identity.”
“Did she attend your gaming night last eve?”
“No.” There was no reason for Damon to share that he hadn’t been of a mind for cards either and had remained in his room while his guests enjoyed themselves. “I do not think she’d risk it if she has any sense.”
“Women are not known for their sense,” Catherton chuckled snidely.
“The same is true for many men I know.” Damon didn’t bother looking up at the duke. His meaning was clear. “I do wish you a good day, Your Grace.”
Damon was likely to get an earful from Flora if she heard about him giving Catherton the cut direct. But the pompous lord deserved far more than just being dismissed.
The clip of Catherton’s Hessians as he stalked from Ashford Hall rang through the empty house, and Damon could only exhale once the front door slammed in the duke’s wake.
Payton was back from whence she came, and hopefully, that place did not overlap with Catherton’s circle of acquaintances. Damon should be furious with Payton for putting him in such a predicament, yet he couldn’t muster the energy to be upset with her.
No, anger was not what filled him, making his entire body heavy and sending his mind into a dark, deep dive.
Damon’s head fell into his hands, and he squeezed his eyes tight against the coming pain he was sure to cause his children. His own discomfort at Payton’s departure would not compare to the agony of Joy and Abram’s loss.