"Contract?" she said with patently false innocence. "What contract?"

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Gran, I'm not in leading strings anymore. You've heard about the deal with the East India captains, haven't you?"

She shrugged. "There are rumors ..."

"And you came to confirm them. Well, they are all true." He picked up his copy of the contract and brought it over to drop in her lap. "See for yourself."

She pounced on the contract like a profligate scenting sin. It took her several moments to scan it for the particulars, but when she got to the amount they'd contracted for, her eyes went wide. "You got them to agree to purchase two thousand barrels? However did you manage that?"

"It's a good brew at a good price. They're no fools."

"But that is almost a quarter of the market!"

"You sound surprised," he said dryly as he took a seat again. "What did you think I'd been doing up here all this time? Twiddling my thumbs?"

She must have heard the edge in his voice, for she set down the contract. "Jarret, never let it be said that I am not willing to acknowledge my mistakes. And I made a very great one when I refused to let you continue on at the brewery when you were young."

The words shouldn't have mattered so much to him, but they did. "Good of you to admit it." Somehow he managed a smile. "I wasn't cut out to be a barrister, Gran. But I realize now that you suddenly found yourself stuck with five grandchildren to raise, and you probably didn't need all of them underfoot-"

"Oh, G.o.d, it was not that." Her blue eyes deepened in sorrow. "Don't you see, my boy? I pushed my daughter to marry your father. After that ended in disaster, I realized that we had never given you a choice-your grandfather and I just dragged you to the brewery and told you that it was your future."

"It was a future I wanted."

"You were thirteen. What did you know? You had never had any other choice shown to you. I wanted you to see the world that was available to you before you entered the brewery business. I wanted you to have the same advantages as any gentleman your age-a good education, a chance for something greater."

A month ago, he would have lashed out over that. He would have told her that Eton was the last place to send a grieving boy whose family had suffered scandal and who needed familiar places and familiar people around him.

But that had been before he met Annabel. Now he understood that mothers-and grandmothers-sometimes made the wrong sacrifices for their children. Because they had limited resources or limited knowledge. Or simply because they were afraid.

That didn't mean they loved them any less. Sometimes it meant they loved them more.

"You did what you thought was right," he said softly, realizing that any resentment he'd felt for her over the past was gone. "I don't blame you for that."

She blinked back tears, then jerked the contract back into her lap and continued to read. "It is a solid agreement, with many advantages for us."

"I know."

A bark of laughter escaped her. "c.o.c.ky rascal, aren't you?"

"So I've been told." As she went on reading, he broached a subject he'd been putting off. "Gran, I intend to keep running the brewery after the year is up."

She kept reading, but her hands trembled a little. "I suppose that could be arranged."

"And you are going to retire."

That got her full attention. "What? You are not going to put me out to pasture, Jarret Sharpe."

"No, indeed. You're too valuable for that. I mean to use your expertise every chance I get." When that seemed to mollify her, he added gently, "But the brewing business is for the young. You know that, or you wouldn't have asked me to step in." He cast her an arch glance. "Besides, if your devious little plan works out and you get everyone married off, you'll soon have great-grandchildren to coddle. You'll have no time for Plumtree."

She digested that a moment. "I take it you still disapprove of my methods."

"I do. I suspect that down the road, it's going to give you grief in ways you haven't antic.i.p.ated."

With a sniff, she returned to reading the contract. When she was done, she set it aside. "Do you believe Lake Ale can hold up their end?"

"I have no doubt of that. Annabel will make sure they hold up their end."

"Annabel?" she asked, her eyebrows lifting.

He hesitated. But he'd already decided that he had to try again with Annabel. She was everything he wanted. "You'd like her. She's a great deal like you, actually-stubborn and impudent and a plague of a woman. With a heart as big as the ocean."

"So why don't you marry her?"

"I proposed, but she turned me down."

"What?" She scowled. "Well then, I do not think she is right for you. Sounds like a fool to me, and you should not marry a fool."

"She's no fool, trust me. Just a bit skittish. And her life is ... complicated."

"Well then, uncomplicate it." She stabbed a finger at the contract. "If you managed a deal like this, you can uncomplicate the life of some provincial brewster who spends her time looking after her brother's children, and has not had a man in her life since her fiance died in the war."

He blinked. "How did you know all that?"

She tipped up her chin. "I have sources, remember?"

G.o.d help them all. No telling what other secrets she'd dredged up.

He was about to prod further when a ruckus in the outer office caught their attention. Croft let out a yelp, and a boy ran into the room, his eyes wild.

"George?" Jarret said as he leapt from the chair, his heart thundering. What was the lad doing here? And did that mean Annabel was here, too?

Croft ran in to grab the poor boy by his collar. "Forgive me, sir, but the little brat kicked me and got past me. I swear-"

"Let him go, Croft. I know him. Leave us."

Croft threw up his hands, muttered something vaguely curselike, and marched stiffly out.

George looked a bit worse for wear, with his clothes rumpled, his hair thoroughly mussed, and his shoes muddy. And were those cake crumbs on his coat?

As soon as Croft had closed the door, George said, without preamble, "You knew I was a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, and you didn't tell me!"

The look of betrayal on his face made Jarret's gut twist. d.a.m.n it all to h.e.l.l. "I didn't know until the night before I left, when your aunt-"

"My mother, you mean. You can say it. She's my mother."

Gran cleared her throat. In horror, George looked over to see her sitting there, and his face went red.

"George, this is my grandmother, Mrs. Hester Plumtree. Gran, this is George Lake, Annabel's-"

"Son," George finished, his stance belligerent. "Her b.a.s.t.a.r.d son."

Gran blinked, then stood. Coming up to George, she held out her hand. "Pleased to meet you, George. I've heard a great many good things about your mother."

The lad stared at her, obviously not quite sure what to do. At last he took her hand and shook it, a trifle warily.

"Gran, would you give us a moment?" Jarret said. "George and I need to have a little talk."

"Certainly." She shot him a furtive glance. "Is this one of those complications you were talking about?"

"You could say that." And she was going to expect full details later.

As soon as she was gone, Jarret said, "It's good to see you, George, but where's your family?"

"In Burton." The lad's chin trembled, as if he were holding himself together only with great effort. "I came to London alone. I sneaked out."

"Good G.o.d, lad, are you daft? They must be mad with worry by now."

He thrust out his lower lip. "They won't care." His voice turned bitter. "I'm just a b.a.s.t.a.r.d and an embarra.s.sment to the family."

"Oh, George. I'm sure they didn't say that to you."

"No, they didn't say anything to me. No one ever tells me things. I overheard them talking about it, about how ... Aunt Annabel refused your proposal because of me, and I came here straightaway." A look of desperation shone in his face. "You have to marry her!"

Jarret lifted an eyebrow. "I already proposed marriage, and she refused me, lad."

"That's only because she's embarra.s.sed that people will find out about me. But they won't, because I'm not going to let her tell anyone. You're going to marry her and bring her to London, s-so everything can go back to h-how it was before."

The way the lad stood so stalwart, with his hands balled into fists and his eyes desperate, made something clutch in Jarret's chest. "I'm sorry, George, but it can never go back to how it was before. You can't un-drink the water. Even if no one else knows, you will. You won't be able to put that out of your head."

"Yes, I will! You have to marry her, so everything can stay the same." He steadied his bony little shoulders. "If I have to, I'll make you marry her."

Jarret blinked. "Oh? And how will you do that?"

"I'll call you out."

It took Jarret an immense effort to swallow his laugh. "Using what for a weapon?"

"I-I was hoping you'd have an extra dueling pistol I could borrow."

"I see. Do you even know how to shoot a pistol?"

George thrust out his chest. "I shot a fowling piece when I went hunting with Grandfather." A troubled frown touched his brow. "Well, I suppose he's not really my grandfather since he's not Aunt Annabel's father ..."

"You see, George?" Jarret said softly. "Things can't go back to how they were. You know too much now."

"But I don't want to know!" he cried. "I d-don't want to h-have no father and no sisters or brother and n-no grandparents-"

Jarret was at George's side in an instant, pulling the boy into his arms. "It's all right, lad. It will be all right, I swear. Not at this moment perhaps, but in time."

"It's n-never going to be all right!" George wailed. "I'm a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, and there's nothing I can do about it."

"That's true." He tugged the boy over to the settee near the window and urged him down onto it, then sat beside him with his arm about his shoulders. "But it doesn't have to shape your life if you don't want it to." The way he'd let his anger and pain over his parents' deaths shape his life. "And I know that your mother doesn't care if you're a b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"Don't call her that! She's not my mother. I won't let her be my mother."

"That's your choice, of course. You can continue to live the lie. But there's a chance that doing so will hurt her deeply."

His lower lip trembled. "She ought to be hurt. She lied to me. They all lied to me."

"Yes. And I can see how that would make you very angry. But they were trying to protect you from people who are stupid and ignorant. They weren't embarra.s.sed by you. They just didn't want you to be embarra.s.sed."

He squeezed the boy. "I know for a fact that your mother loves you very much. Most ladies, when they bear a child outside of marriage, give it away to be raised by someone else. Then they can go on to live their lives as they please, to marry where they please. But she didn't do that. She gave up the chance of marriage and having a family and home of her own so she could be near you, to see you grow up, to take care of you."

George swallowed. "I still say she should have told me. Mother and Father should have told me."

"Yes, they probably should have. But sometimes grown-ups don't know what to do any better than children. And consider this-most children only have one mother. I lost my mother when I was your age. Do you know how jealous I am of you for having two mothers who dote on you and brag about how clever you are? You're very lucky."

George scowled at him.

"I suppose you're not feeling very lucky right now, but that time will come."

"Does this mean you're not going to marry Aunt ... my mother?"

Jarret smiled. "How about this? If you'll forgo the duel by fowling piece, I'll ask your mother again to marry me. But if she refuses me, there's not much I can do. You'll just have to accept her decision. Can you do that?"

"I suppose." He worried the edge of his coat with his hands. "Does that mean you're going to take me back to Burton?"

"Actually, I would imagine that your family is already on their way here."

"They don't know I came to London. I didn't leave a note or anything."

"I daresay that won't stop them," he said dryly. "If I know your mother, she has already browbeaten every citizen in Burton to find someone who could tell her where you went."

George shook his head vigorously. "Toby Mawer won't tell. I gave him a watch."

"Toby Mawer ... isn't he the fellow you called your archenemy?"

"Yes."

"Never trust an archenemy, lad. We're better off sending an express to Burton to tell them that you're with me. I'd hate to head there and chance missing them as they came this direction." He patted the boy's shoulder. "Besides, I want you to meet my family. Just in case they become your family, too."

George's face brightened. "If you marry my ... mother, you'd be my father, wouldn't you?"

"Stepfather, yes. And my brother Gabe, the one who races horses, would be your uncle. Indeed, you'd gain two uncles, two aunts, and a great-grandmother. Not quite as good as a brother and sisters, perhaps, but it would be something." He cast the boy a sly glance. "Of course, that's only if you choose to live in London with your mother, and let everyone know that you're a b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I won't blame you if you don't want that."

Leaving George to ponder that, he rose and called for Croft. As soon as the clerk entered, he gave him instructions on sending an express letter to the Lakes in Burton.

Gran strode into the room behind him. "When did you last eat, George?" No doubt she'd been listening at the door and knew everything.