The Gentleman Who Loved Me (Heart of Enquiry Book 6)(102)

“Dear heaven, spare us the intimate details,” Em muttered.

“We ought to focus on Rosie’s dilemma,” Thea agreed. “Now, Rosie dear, are you certain you wish to marry Mr. Corbett? Even if it means giving up your hard-won respectability—not to mention your title and fortune?”

“All I want is Andrew,” she said simply.

With aching remorse, she recognized that while Andrew had always put her needs first—had protected her, loved her through it all—she’d not done the same for him. She’d only recently confessed her feelings… and apparently not as clearly as she ought to have.

“Then you must talk to Mr. Corbett,” Thea said with her gentle smile.

Rosie nodded absently. A plan was already formulating in her head. Andrew deserved more than mere words: he deserved to be shown in no uncertain terms just how much he meant to her.

~~~

“We’ll finalize the details in the upcoming weeks.” Andrew pushed the contract across the desk. “For now, I’ve had my solicitor draw this up.”

Across the desk, his new partners looked at him.

“You’re certain you want to do this?” Grier said gruffly. “It’s your life’s work—”

“And you’re signing it away for a song.” Sitting next to Grier, Fanny frowned in concern. “You nicked in the nob, Corbett?”

He wasn’t. For the first time, his head was on straight, and he was thinking clearly. He saw now that, somewhere along the way, his life had turned in the wrong direction. He wasn’t the man he wanted to be. Needed to be—in order to be deserving of Primrose.

I love you… I’m so sorry I didn’t let you explain about Kitty.

The words wrought an exquisite pain, tightening his throat. One day, he hoped that he would have an adequate explanation to give Primrose. That he would be worthy of her love. But right now it wouldn’t be fair to ask her to give up her bright future—her title, place in society, and wealth—for a man who had abandoned her so unforgivably. Who didn’t even know where he was headed next.

It had taken all his willpower not to go to her. The last two days had been hell, and he didn’t know how many more he could endure, with the temptation of her so close. Maybe he ought to go travel. See the world. He had money, time, and, for the first time in his life, freedom to do what he wanted.

The problem was that the only thing he wanted was Primrose. Wherever he went, for as long as he lived, he would never forget her. He would hoard his memories of their time together, warm himself with them in the cold, lonely nights that stretched ahead.

“You’re doing me a favor,” he said quietly. “It makes it easier to walk away knowing that I’m leaving Corbett’s and the other clubs in good hands.”

He’d spelled it all out in the contract. He would give ownership of his brothels to Fanny and Grier in exchange for a cut of the profits. The pair would uphold all the benefits he extended to his employees—and offer a new one.

“This new profit-sharing idea of yours is bound to rile up Todd,” Grier said dourly.

Rewarding workers with a small percentage of the revenues was an idea that had been percolating for some time. It would be Andrew’s final legacy to the business.

The fact that his plan would irk Todd was just a bonus.

“You don’t have to worry about Todd,” he said. “I’ve spoken to Bartholomew Black. He knows what’s what. If Todd makes a move, he’ll step in.”

“And that’s it? That’s your revenge on Todd?” Fanny planted her hands on the desk, her expression indignant. “After all the trouble’s he caused?”

“Lord, woman,” Grier muttered. “Leave it be.”

“Oh no, you don’t, Horace Grier. Just because we’re to be partners doesn’t mean you can order me about,” Fanny warned.

It’s going to be a beautiful partnership, Andrew thought with a touch of satisfaction.

Aloud, he said, “Doing what I want—what I believe to be right—is the best revenge.”

And it was.

A knock sounded on the door, and Grier left to answer it.

Fanny eyed him. “You’re doing this for the chit, aren’t you?”

His chest tightened. “I’m doing it for myself.”

“You can’t fool me, Corbett.” The bawd snorted. “Why don’t you just marry her and be done with it?”

Because she deserves better. Because I want her to have the best.

Because I love her… and always will.

Grier returned, announcing, “We’ve got a problem.”

“What sort of problem?” Andrew said.

The Scot shook his head. “It’s best you see for yourself.”

That didn’t bode well.

Getting to his feet, he shrugged into his jacket. “Lead the way.”

He and Grier hadn’t even made it to the front salon when he heard the brouhaha, the excited swell of chatter. He frowned. What the bloody hell is going on? The salon was packed with bodies. Men were craning their necks to see over one another, their attention centered on something… by the pianoforte? He couldn’t see through the throng, couldn’t guess what would captivate this raucous bunch. Surely not a musical performance—unless one of the wenches was doing it naked.