Chapter 27
Damon stumbled from his study, moving away from the merriment in his ballroom and toward the front door that would lead him out into the night—and to Payton.
Few people had experienced the hardships he had during his life and the guilt that came with it knowing you held the blame. Except her. She understood the loss of a loved one and how difficult it was to find enough strength within yourself to love—and lose—again.
Love?
Yes, he cared deeply for Payton. He cherished her kindness to his children and her understanding for him.
Surely, it could not have progressed to something as profound as love.
He barely knew her, beyond their brief moments together.
He was attracted to her; no man would be irrational enough to deny that.
What was irrational, was for him to even think the word love regarding a woman he barely knew, a woman who deserved more than an empty shell of a man who hadn’t enough left within him to actively love his own children.
Pressing his outstretched hand against the wall, Damon made his way to the front of the house.
He didn’t know what to call the draw he felt for Payton, but if he could convince her to speak with him, they would figure it out—together. He would tell her all he should have confessed before—before he’d begun to push her away, before she’d discovered he’d paid her debt, and before she’d left.
Raised voices drifted toward him, and he slowed, pushing into the shadows to avoid being seen. The last thing he wanted was to be waylaid in the foyer when he desperately needed the solitude of his room. He wanted to be alone with his musings somewhere his servants wouldn’t happen upon him.
“Unhand me!” a woman’s voice growled.
“Your Grace, please,” Mr. Brown pleaded. “Let the lady go. I will find Lord Ashford, and you can speak privately about this matter.”
“This lady is a conniving swindler.” The Duke of Catherton’s furious tone was unmistakable. “Summon the magistrate now, and I will be pleased to meet with the baron when the magistrate arrives; however, she has been known to disappear. I will not release her until the authorities are called.”
Damon pushed from the shadows, his head clearing as he stepped into the foyer.
Catherton stood below the bottom stair, his hand grasping a woman’s elbow as she frantically tried to pull away. Mr. Brown attempted to push in between the pair.
The duke and his butler jostled, blocking Damon’s view of the altercation. Who was the woman? Gowned and masked in cream, pearls at her throat, Damon didn’t recognize her from the ballroom.
“Catherton,” Damon’s voice echoed off the high ceiling in the foyer. “Remove your hands from her before I have you removed from this house and thrown headfirst into the Thames.”
Both men froze, allowing the woman to pull from Catherton’s clutches.
Damon’s heart beat rapidly before stopping. It could not be…but it was.
Wearing a cream evening dress with a mask to match, Payton’s signature single mahogany curl hung over her shoulder, teasing the lace of her bodice.
How he had not spotted her so clearly before, Damon would never know.
Now, he saw only her—even with her mask as a guise.
He blinked several times, but she did not disappear or morph into another woman.
He knew the sparkling, deep blue eyes hidden behind her mask.
He was familiar with the feel of her soft, lush lips against his.
He could almost hear the melody of her laughter, or the dark tone of her voice when she was called to anger.
“Lord Ashford.” Catherton straightened his coat and dipped to retrieve his mask from the floor. “Our thief has returned.”
“She is not a thief,” Damon seethed. “Her debt to you was settled. You have your money; therefore, there are no grounds for you causing a scene in my house.”
Payton looked between Damon and the duke before turning to glance at the closed door.
There was nothing more he wanted than to ask her why she was here. Had she come back to speak with him or merely to gamble?
“I apologize,” he confessed, holding her stare. “For the duke’s rude behavior. You are free to leave.”
“Over my bloody body will she be allowed to leave,” Catherton thundered. “I have a grievance with this woman, and I will see it resolved.”
He pointed his finger at Payton with each word, and Damon had the urge to prod the man in return. He took a step forward.
Footsteps sounded from down the hall, and Damon felt the inquisitive stares of his guests as they pushed closer to absorb any gossip they could overhear. The murmurs of the group left no doubt that his gaming evening would be the talk of the ton come morning light.
He didn’t want that for Payton. She deserved better than to be exposed in the gossip rags.
Meeting Payton’s eyes once more, Damon noted that they’d softened—even lightened in color—behind her mask. She should be terrified. Bloody hell, the duke was a fierce and formidable adversary. Yet, that was not what he saw in her eyes.
It was almost as if she regretted being caught by Catherton because of the impact on him.
“You should go,” he whispered, notching his head toward the door. “Mr. Brown, make certain my guest finds her carriage and arrives home safely. Send Rigby as an escort.”
“Of course, my lord.” The Ashford butler cleared his throat, and Damon glanced away from Payton to see the servant nod upward. “If you will come with me, miss.”
On the landing above, both his children stood staring down at him in utter shock—and outrage?
“Return to your rooms, children,” Damon commanded. If at any time he desperately needed Joy and Abram to follow his demands, it was now. “I will come and check in on you in a few minutes.”
He was satisfied when both blond heads disappeared, but he waited to hear the closing of their doors from above. His guests had fallen silent behind him, likely hanging on every word spoken, committing it to memory, and ready to retrieve it during their rounds of social calls the following day.
“I am not leaving,” Payton said, gaining a gasp from the enthralled crowd and a scowl from Damon. She turned away from him to face the duke. “I do owe you a debt and mean to settle it as soon as I have the funds.”
“You owe him nothing,” Damon countered. “I made good on what was owed to Catherton.”
“Not before this woman fled your home like a thief in the night.” Catherton took in the awestruck crowd lingering in the hall. “See this woman”—he pointed at Payton, who shrank back a step—“she lost a sizable hand to me, and instead of paying her due, she left. She is a coward and a con.”
Damon turned to address his guests. “Please, return to the ballroom.”
In the dim corridor, Damon watched as one by one, the ladies and lords of the ton exclaimed in horror, and their mouths rounded in Os of surprise as Payton began to untie the strings holding her mask in place.
“Don’t!” It was all Damon could think to say.
If the crowd learned her identity, despite merely being a governess in his household, she would never again secure a position in London or anywhere in England, for that matter.
If the magistrate were summoned, she’d face far worse penalties for her crime than any proper lady would.
But his warning did nothing to stop her or even slow her as the mask slipped from her face, exposing her creamy white skin and her deep-set, catlike, blue eyes.
“Who is she?” a woman asked.
“I haven’t the faintest notion,” a man replied.
“Never set eyes on the girl before,” another male voice mumbled.
Of course, they’d not know Payton. Perhaps there was still hope the matter could be settled in private without the magistrate.
“Let us take this to my study,” Damon said. “You have caused quite enough of a disturbance, Catherton.” He turned to the crowd. “The spectacle is over. Please return to the ballroom.”
When the duke nodded, the crowd dispersed quickly and, within moments, the musicians could be heard tuning their instruments.
Satisfied, Damon held out his arm for Payton, who gratefully slipped her gloved hand into the crook of his elbow.
Her actions befuddled him, not to mention her unexpected presence in his home.
They followed in the direction of his guests towards the ballroom but turned right instead of left when the corridor split.
The duke’s sharp footfalls filled the corridor behind them with Mr. Brown’s shuffle scurrying after them all.
Once everyone had entered his study, and the door was securely closed behind them preventing anyone from eavesdropping on their conversation, Damon offered Payton the seat behind his desk.
If anything, it was to keep Catherton as far from her as possible.
With a piece of furniture between them, Damon did not fear the duke laying a hand on her again.
“Your disturbance here this evening was uncalled for, Your Grace.” Damon’s tone left no room for argument. “You have insulted me, my guests, and provided ample gossip for the papers. I do not take kindly to such spectacles in my home.”
“It was you who invited me, Ashford.”
Damon faced away from Payton, keeping his focus on Catherton and settling the matter without another call for the magistrate.
“I sent my invitation to make amends and secure your agreement that this entire matter was resolved. You are friends with my sister and her husband. I did not want any ill will between our families.”
“Yet you, my lord, were hiding the woman in your home the entire time.” The duke fell silent, but Damon would not refute his claim.
“You thought you could fool me as she did. It is dishonorable and, despite making good on what she owed me, the debt is nowhere near being settled.” His narrowed stare landed on Payton next. “I will have your name.”
She stood behind Damon’s desk, not taking the seat he’d offered her, and met the duke’s glare without flinching. “Miss Payton Samuels of Craven House, Your Grace.”
“Craven House,” he scoffed. “I should have known.”
To her credit, Payton did not appear wounded by his retort. She lifted her chin a notch and refused to break eye contact with Catherton.
“Lord Garrett Davenport’s sister, are you?” When Payton only nodded, Catherton chuckled. “I should have noted your lack of pedigree the moment you removed your mask.”
“You can summon the magistrate,” Payton said, her voice cracking with defeat.
“Do not be impulsive, Miss Samuels,” Damon said.
If the magistrate learned of the incident, Damon would be helpless to save her.
She’d be taken from his home and likely disappear, leaving him with little recourse.
He wouldn’t allow that fate to befall her.
His temper flared for his part in bringing the duke back to Ashford Hall.
Once again, it was his failure that would cause others pain.
“How do you know the woman, Ashford?” the duke demanded, clasping his hands behind his back.
“She is—was—my children’s governess,” Damon offered, hoping the duke would take pity on her…or him. “At the time, I was unaware it was she masquerading at my gaming party. I settled her debt without her knowledge after I discovered her identity.”
“And you did not summon the magistrate yourself? Interesting…” He stared between Damon and Payton, a slow smile spreading across his face. “What are we to do?”
“I am willing to hand myself over to the magistrate and accept my punishment,” Payton muttered with contrition, stealing the breath from Damon’s lungs as if he’d been punched in the gut. “As long as you leave the baron and his family out of the matter. I created this situation. Alone.”
She was willing to sacrifice herself for him and the children? It was inconceivable and unnecessary.
Catherton had stalled calling for the magistrate this long, and Damon suspected the duke never planned to turn her over for punishment in the first place. No, he was the type of lord who took pleasure in doling out his own forms of punishment.
Unfortunately for him, he was unaware of the adversary he faced in Miss Payton Samuels…and the man who loved her.
Damon had no intention of leaving this room until Catherton knew the retribution he’d face if he tarnished Payton’s name and family in any way—or worse, caused her to be detained by the magistrate.