It was as if she’d stepped into a world of criminals and spies and intrigue. If not for their father’s actions, Marcus would have become the Duke of Wolfford. She wondered if that was the reason behind the moniker he’d chosen to use. Wolf. “That’s how you got in touch with Marcus.”
“Only a couple of times. It’s better for him if they believe he’s turned his back on all he once held dear.”
She did what she’d never done before. She hugged him close, hugged him as though she’d never again have the opportunity. When his arms tentatively came around her, she nearly wept. “Please take care. And if you needme, you know where to find me.”
He stepped out of her embrace and nodded toward the building. “Go on with you.”
Picking up her satchel, she made her way to the steps, hurried up them, placed her hand on the door handle, and glanced back to give him a final wave of farewell.
He’d already dissolved into the crowd of passersby on their way to work, home, the shops, and appointments. She had the unsettling thought that there were a good many aspects to Griffith of which she was unaware.
The door opened and before she could even react, the satchel was taken from her grip.
“He didn’t seem particularly happy,” Benedict Trewlove said. She imagined him with his nose pressed to the window, awaiting her arrival, watching as she said farewell to her brother.
She shouldn’t have been pleased with the thought that he’d been anxious for her return. Nothing of any serious nature could develop between them. He wasn’t to be part of her permanent plans, her future. He was simply the means to an end, just as she was for him. They would assist each other in achieving their goals and then they would amicably part ways and get on with their lives.
He moved back and she stepped over the threshold. “I doubt his disgruntlement over recognizing this place as a brothel some mates had told him about will last long. He’s rid of me now, free to do as he wishes.”
“His loss is my gain. Let’s get you settled in your bedchamber. Then we’ll leave for our appointment with the solicitor to sign the agreement.” He escorted her across the large foyer, past the parlor, to the stairs. “The ladies are all abed. We close the business at six. They’re usually ravenous by then so breakfast is served before they retire. If you’re not an early riser, I can instruct the cook to prepare another meal later for you.”
“As I’ve been getting up long before dawn in order to prepare food for Griff before he left for the docks, I suspect I’ll find myself continuing to awaken at an ungodly hour.”
“You cook?”
“I wouldn’t go that far in describing my skill. We ate mostly cheese, bread, and boiled eggs, anything that required little preparation.”
“You’ll have better selections here. I could have enticed you with that.”
“You offered more than adequate inducements.”
He started up the stairs. “Beginning tomorrow, your mornings will be yours to do with as you please. The others sleep until half twelve or so. Luncheon is served at one. You’ll begin your lessons at two. I thought a couple of hours a day would suffice, although you’re welcome to adjust the schedule to suit you. We dine at half six. The women prepare for the night. The doors are open to customers at eight.”
She wondered if all brothels ran with such efficiency or if this one was simply more of a reflection of its owner.
At the landing she glanced quickly—and guiltily—down the ordinary corridor at the row of doors, behind which naughtiness occurred. Did the chambers contain large beds, mirrors, scarlet satin sheets, silk-covered chairs?
“You can explore if you like,” he said, humor lacing his voice, making her realize she’d stopped walking while he had continued on and was now leaning on the balustrade several steps up. “They won’t bite.”
Mortification warmed her skin. “No, I just... I’d rather see my room.”
She breathed a little easier when they reached the next level.
“My study.” He pointed to a closed door at the nearer end of the hallway. “You can usually find me there.”
He crossed over to an open doorway. “The library. You’ll tutor the ladies in here.”
Peering inside, she felt a contentment settle over her at the familiar musty scent and the shelves of books, so many books. “I hadn’t expected a library in a brothel.”
“This floor isn’t considered part of the brothel. It’s considered our residence.” He glanced around. “And I like books.”
“Are these all yours, then?”
“Every single one.”
They must have cost him a fortune. She couldn’t stop herself from walking over to the wide, tall bookcase that lined one wall. It contained an astonishing assortment of leather-bound volumes. She was surprised by the variety and number and how unworn so many of them appeared. “Is anyone welcome to read them?”
“They are.”
