“I don’t understand this. You cannot possibly wish for me to court your granddaughter after I bought this house.”

“True, you would not be my first choice. Or even my second. But then, no one is good enough for Florence in my opinion—especially not a man who refuses to fight for her.”

The dig was not lost on Clay. “Even if I wanted her, she’d never forgive me for this. She hates me.”

“Hate and love are close cousins, as far as I’m concerned. And anything worth having doesn’t come easy, Mr. Madden. You should know that, considering how hard you’ve worked for all you have. I’m told your fortune rivals my own.”

“Duncan would certainly never give his blessing.”

“Do you care?”

No, but Florence would miss spending time with her father. Clay leaned over and rested his elbows on his knees. Jesus, this conversation hadn’t gone as expected. He almost felt . . . hopeful.

He went with the truth. “I wouldn’t wish to come between Florence and her family. I know how much it hurts to lose loved ones.”

Sympathy shone in eyes so much like Florence’s that he winced. “As do I. However, there comes a time when one must leave the nest. Florence has been itching to do so for the past few years—on her terms, of course. And she is close, especially since I have decided to fund her casino for women.”

“You have?” That was monumental. Florence must have been ecstatic.

“Yes, I have. Young women have ambition these days and I think such ambition should be rewarded. I want her to succeed.”

“I do, as well.”

“Do you?” She cocked her head. “Or do you just wish to feel less guilty where she is concerned?”

“Both, actually.”

“Well, at least you’re honest.” She put down her glass and stood.

Clay also rose then shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn’t know what to make of this remarkable woman, a Knickerbocker matriarch who should by all rights hate his living guts. Yet, she’d been kind and had offered advice.

It made no sense.

In Clay’s world, violence begat violence. Evil was met with evil. Someone came at him, he hit back even harder. There was no forgiveness or charity. Kindness was a luxury he’d never been able to afford.

But this woman was pushing him toward her granddaughter, to fight for Florence.

While I wish it were otherwise, I cannot fault the emotion that drove you to take my home.

When was the last time someone had given him something without wanting an even exchange? Or when a stranger had shown him the least amount of kindness?

He felt humbled by her generosity, a gift he certainly didn’t deserve. Closing the distance between them, he held out his hand. “Mrs. Greene, it has been a pleasure.”