He set down his pen, his gaze taking in the pair. “What now?”
“Malcolm Todd, that’s what,” Grier said.
At the mention of his rival, Andrew’s jaw clenched. “I just met with the bastard. Made it clear that Nursery House is no threat to his business.”
Three days ago, he’d had a parley with Todd. He preferred to avoid bloodshed whenever possible, and thus he’d taken pains to quell any rumors concerning his venture. He’d informed the other of Nursery House’s purpose—and that it posed no competition to Todd’s brothel two blocks away.
“Todd didn’t get the message, apparently. Got his men surveying that damned nursery of yours,” Grier said. “He’s spread the word that you’re encroaching on his territory.”
Andrew slammed his fist on the desk. “The lying bugger. He’s been spoiling for a fight, and now he’s using this as an excuse to start a war.”
“Choose your battles,” Grier advised. “This one ain’t worth it.”
“Surely you’re not suggesting that he shut down the place to appease Todd?” Fanny crossed her arms beneath her bosom, which was generously displayed by her scarlet gown. She wore paint, and her lashes were sooted; on the nights she worked, she looked the part of Abbess Fanny. “Why should he kowtow to that bastard?”
“Because he wants to keep his head on his neck, that’s why,” the Scot growled.
“I thought it was your job to keep it there,” she shot back. “Not up to the challenge?”
“I swear to God, woman, if you push me—”
“Devil take it, that’s enough.” Andrew rose, and the pair swung to face him. “You’re both right. I have to choose my battles—but I’m not bloody going to back down, either. To do so would be a show of weakness. Once the bastards smell blood in the water, they’ll all come circling.”
“What do you want me to do, sir?” Grier said.
“Todd is powerful,” Andrew said grimly, “but even he must tread carefully. He was part of the Accord, like the rest of us. He has no legitimate reason to strike out against me; any violence he incites violates the terms we all agreed to. He’ll have to answer not only to me but to the King.”
In recent years, the London Underworld had undergone a quiet revolution. The bloodshed had risen to a degree that benefited no one—and resulted in the most powerful men of the rookeries coming together to hammer out a solution. Both Andrew and Todd had been at the table when territories had been drawn, treaties negotiated. And Bartholomew Black, the most powerful of them all, had been crowned King of the Underworld, giving him the right to mediate and dispense justice as necessary.
In some ways, the system heralded back to old Arthur and his round table. Only the King was a certified cutthroat and the knights were men who made their living off the darkest trades of London.
“I don’t see Todd quaking in his boots,” Grier said with a snort, “seeing as how the King happens to be his father-in-law.”
“Black may be ruthless, but he’s fair.” Andrew straightened the papers on his desk. “Moreover, he and Todd don’t see eye to eye, and Todd won’t dare risk Black’s wrath. In the meantime, put an around-the-clock watch on the Nursery House. Tell the men not to engage but to report in immediately if there’s any trouble.”
Grumbling, Grier took off, but not before he snuck a glance at… Fanny’s bosom?
Good God.Andrew headed for the whiskey decanter. Half-past three in the afternoon and he needed a drink. Not a good sign.
Fanny tagged at his heels. “You’re not going to shut down Nursery House, are you? I’ve just finished settling in the girls and—”
“I’m not shutting it down.” He downed a shot of whiskey.
The bawd studied him. “You look like hell. As hellish as an Adonis can look, at any rate.”
“Is that a compliment or an insult?” He tossed back another shot.
“An observation. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”
He hadn’t… because of Primrose. She’d featured nightly in his dreams, torturing him with what could never be. Now that she knew who and what he was, she would understand that no future was possible between them. That the one thing she craved—respectability—was the one thing he couldn’t offer. As much as he told himself that this was all for the best, that he had no business being a part of her life, his spirits had plunged into an abyss.
“And you’ve been distracted since you returned from your trip.” Fanny’s brows formed thin arches. “Care to talk about… her?”
A rap on the door prevented the necessity of a reply.
Tim, one of the footmen, appeared. “Sorry to disturb you, sir. But someone’s here to see you.”
“I’m not expecting visitors.” Andrew frowned. “Did he give his name?”
