Once the door was closed, he gestured for them both to sit. Annette perched on the edge of the chair, her posture tense, while Mr. Davies settled more comfortably, pulling out papers from his leather case.
"Lady Holford," Andrew began, choosing his words carefully. "You've been managing the Mayfair Fox brilliantly in my absence. Better than I could have hoped."
"Thank you, Your Grace."
"Which is why I want to make it official." He nodded to Mr. Davies, who spread several documents across the desk. "I'm appointing you as the primary operator of the Mayfair Fox.You'll oversee all daily operations, make decisions regarding staff and clients, and manage the accounts. Mr. Davies has drawn up the legal documents."
Annette's eyes widened. "Your Grace, I don't understand. Are you... are you leaving?"
"Not leaving. Stepping back." Andrew leaned against his desk. "I've realized recently that I've been using this place as a crutch.”
That wasn't entirely true. Or untrue. He was still figuring it out, still wrestling with decades of fear and self-doubt. But saying it aloud made it feel more real.
"This club will always be important to me," he continued. "It represents everything I built from my father's ruins. But it can't be my entire life anymore. I have other priorities now."
Annette's expression softened with understanding. "The Duchess."
"Yes." The word came easily. "My wife deserves more than a husband who's married to his business. She deserves someone who's present. Who chooses her. Who puts her first."
"She must be quite a woman," Annette said softly.
"She is." Andrew felt his chest tighten with the admission. "She's fierce and intelligent and far too good for me. But somehow, shechose to stay. And I'll be damned if I repay that by continuing to put this place before her."
Mr. Davies cleared his throat. "The documents give the Dowager Countess full operational control, Your Grace. You'll retain ownership and ultimate authority, of course, but she'll handle everything day-to-day. You'll receive regular reports and can visit as often as you like, but you won't be required to be here."
"What about difficult decisions?" Annette asked, her brow furrowed. "What if something happens that requires your input?"
"Use your judgment." Andrew met her gaze. "I trust you, Annette. I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't. You know this place as well as I do, better, in some ways. You know the clients, the staff, what works and what doesn't. I'm confident you'll make the right choices."
Annette was quiet for a long moment, studying the documents. Then she looked up at him, her expression serious.
"This is about more than just trusting me, isn't it? This is about you learning to let go."
Andrew smiled ruefully. "Indeed. I must make an effort."
“Yes,” Annette agreed readily. “That is an admirable thing to do.” She stood moving to look out the window at the club below. "I'll do it. I'll take care of this place like it's my own."
"Thank you, Annette."
They spent the next hour going over details, signing documents, discussing transitions and protocols. By the time they finished, Andrew felt lighter than he had in weeks.
He was doing the right thing. He knew it in his bones.
Now he just needed to get home and tell Isobel.
The ballroom glittered with candlelight and jewels. The space was filled with the cream of London society. Musicians played from the gallery, couples swirled across the floor, and servants moved efficiently through the crowd with trays of champagne and delicacies.
It should have been delightful.
It would have been the perfect night. If her husband had bothered to attend.
"Your Grace." Lady Foster approached with her daughter in tow, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "What a lovely ball. Though I confess, I'm surprised not to see the Duke here. Surely, he hasn't been called away on business?"
The emphasis on "business" made it clear what she thought of the Mayfair Fox.
"His Grace was detained," Isobel said, her voice smooth despite the mortification burning in her chest. "He'll be joining us shortly."
"Of course." Lady Foster's smile sharpened. "Though it does seem rather unusual for a host to be absent from his own ball."
