It wasn’t an answer. It was, however, a threat. Griffith was considering just how much trouble he’d be in with her if he did punch Baxter.

Likely too much, he thought with regret.

“That’s why I am here. We don’t want your daughter, the one you purport to care for, to know that you were here and yet you didn’t make an effort to see her.”

Baxter’s lip curled. “It’s not even a sure bet she is my daughter.”

Griffith was up and at Baxter’s throat before the last word was out of his mouth. He wrapped his hand around the man’s neck as he lifted the man up off the stool, suspending him in air. Baxter’s eyes were wide, his breathing ragged, and Griffith just stared at him for a few moments before lowering him back down. “You won’t say anything like that again.”

That was a threat. And Baxter knew it.

“Fine,” he said, still gasping for air. “But the price went up. Now that I know you care about her.”

Griffith wished he were in a good enough mood to roll his eyes at the man’s idiocy—of course he cared about her, or why else would he be here? He had already made it clear he wasn’t the duke’s emissary, and he was clearly a gentleman.

He would have to ask Della at some point just what she saw in this idiot.

And, if she ever felt the same way about him—which he hoped she would—he might have to question her judgment. Though not enough to refuse her attentions.

But first he had to deal with her former idiot.

“What do you want?” Griffith pointed an accusatory finger at Baxter. “But this is it. I won’t have you coming back for more. Whatever your price is, name it now. If you try to come back for more,” he said, shrugging, “I can’t promise it won’t negatively affect you.”

Hopefully the idiot wasn’t so stupid he didn’t understand what Griffith meant.

“You won’t see me ever again once you pay me,” Baxter said. “I know how your kind operates. You could just as easily pay to have me removed as give me money.”

“I’d just do it myself, save the cost of paying someone,” Griffith remarked in a mild tone. He was pleased to see Baxter turn pale. His size was still good for something. “So how much?”

Baxter named a figure that was high, but not so high that Griffith couldn’t pay it. “I don’t have that much on me,” he said, pulling out the money he’d brought with him. “You can have this now and I’ll get you the rest later.”

“On account?” Baxter snorted. “How do I know you won’t just leave me high and dry?”