Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(2)

Griffin had to repress a bitter laugh, covering the emotion her remark had engendered with a languid smile. “My dear, you flatter me, but I trust you see the reasoning behind my insistence on your ability to meet my terms. At least in this particular instance.”

“I do.” Madeline’s lovely features shifted ever so slightly, transforming her from one of London’s most-sought-after courtesans into a canny businesswoman. “If we could not demonstrate our ability to manage The Golden Tie according to your terms, then we would never be able to maintain our financial independence and treat the girls with a modicum of decency. I know how important that is to you.”

She leaned forward to place a hand on the polished countertop of his Chippendale desk, her burgundy gown, beautifully tailored to showcase her magnificent figure, rustling with the soft slide of expensive silk. “I won’t let anything happen to the girls, Griffin. You have my word.”

“I know I do, and I am grateful to you.”

He was, too. Madeline and her new partners—all women who worked in his brothel—were a key part of his plan to achieve his freedom.

Griffin had long wanted to shed The Golden Tie. He’d only saddled himself with it because he’d been unable to tolerate the brutal treatment meted out to the girls by the brothel’s former owner—a foul excuse for a man named Paulson. The pig had done nothing to protect the girls from disease, pregnancy, and beatings from the customers. The man had, unfortunately, also owned The Cormorant, the first gaming house Griffin had acquired and the foundation of his wealth and influence. Though Griffin had only wanted the gaming house, he’d found himself taking the brothel on, as well.

Not that he was a saint. He’d taken full financial advantage of the opportunity—on his terms, of course—but now he was eager to rid himself of a responsibility he’d never wanted. Too often, in the years since he’d arrived in London, he’d seen the ruination of women, mistreated and then discarded by the sorts of men who frequented establishments like The Golden Tie. His own mother had suffered a similar fate. Griffin’s father had the bluest blood in the land, but to his mind the man was less than a scraping of mud from a bootjack.

“Griffin, is something wrong?” The keen understanding in Madeline’s eyes jogged him even more than her words.

Waving a negligent hand, Griffin rose to his feet to signal an end to their interview. “Not in the least, my dear. I’ll have my solicitor look the papers over later today, but I’m sure everything is in order. We should be able to sign off in a few days.” With a smile, he rounded the desk to offer Madeline his hand. “I wish you the best of luck, Mad. I know you’ll make a go of it.”

She rose with the sinuous grace that had entranced so many. Madeline was tall, enough so that she could almost look him straight in the eye.

“Would you, perhaps, like to celebrate the completion of our deal?” she purred, her velvet-brown gaze glittering with satisfaction and invitation. “Once more for old times’ sake?”

Her voice brushed along his nerves, pleasantly arousing. At one time, Griffin would have responded to that siren call with alacrity. But he’d left Madeline’s bed months ago, as much from a growing ennui as a reluctance to mix business and pleasure. For a moment, he allowed himself to consider the invitation, knowing that Madeline would be more than willing to do all the work. But then that dark, dissatisfied part of him that had been pushing so hard of late, the part driving him to step far away from his current life, reasserted itself. He didn’t have to say a word, either. Madeline, ever sensitive to his emotional nuance, saw the answer on his face.