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“That’s not true, blast it!” He blamed himself alone. If only he’d ridden after Mother as soon as she’d gone missing. If only he’d pressed Gran harder. If only, if only, if only . . .

“I don’t blame you for anything in the past. But Iwillblame you for this.”

“Surely even you can see that something must be done.”

“Why? Minerva and Celia will marry eventually, and Gabe and Jarrett are just sowing their wild oats. Given time, they’ll settle down.”

“Youhave not.”

“That’s different.”

“Why is it different?”

“Why are you suddenly so determined to push this matter of our marrying?”

“Answer my question, and I will answer yours.”

So that’s what she wanted—to force him into a confession of his sins. Well, she was never getting that from him.

“Someday, Oliver,” she went on when he remained silent, “you will have to talk about what happened that day, if only so you can put it behind you.”

“Ihaveput it behind me.” Turning on his heel, he strode for the door.

As he jerked it open, she called out, “I am not changing my mind about the inheritance or the rest of it. Marry or lose everything.”

When he froze with his hand on the knob, she came up to stand in the doorway and sweep her gaze over his siblings inside the room. “I am tired of hearing you children called the Hellions of Halstead Hall in the scandalsheets. Of reading that my youngest granddaughter has once again horrified society by appearing at some shooting match.” She leveled a glance on Gabe. “Or that my grandson nearly lost his life in a race. This will end now.”

“What if we agree to behave more discreetly in the future?” Oliver snapped.

“Not good enough. Perhaps if you five have someone else depending on you—a spouse and children—you will finally learn the value of what you have.”

“Damn it, Gran—”

“Stop cursing at me, Oliver. This is the end of the discussion. Mr. Bogg will explain the particulars of my demands and you may askhimyour questions. I must attend a meeting at the brewery.”

She walked off down the hall, her cane briskly tapping along.

The minute Oliver reentered the room, his siblings turned to Mr. Bogg. “She doesn’t mean it, does she?” said one. “How could she do this?” said another. “You must talk her out of it,” said a third.

Bogg sat back in the antique chair, which creaked in protest. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. After Lord Gabriel’s injury, she became determined not to watch her grandchildren die before they do their duty to the family.”

“You see what you’ve done, Gabe?” Celia cried. “You ruined everything!”

“It’s not about Gabe,” Oliver said wearily. “It’s about me. She doesn’t want to lose the title and position that she fought so hard to gain for her family. She means to make sure one of us chaps carries it on.”

“Then why force me and Celia into it?” Minerva asked.

“Forgive me, your lordship,” Bogg put in, “but you’re wrong. She worries about all of you. She wants to make sure you’re well settled before she dies.”

Oliver’s head snapped around. “Dies? Is Gran ill?” That possibility tied his insides into a knot. “Is there something she’s not telling us?” It would explain the suddenness of her scheme.

Bogg paused before shaking his head. “She’s merely tired of waiting for you five to provide her with great-grandchildren.”

NowthatOliver could easily believe.

Bogg cleared his throat. “Have you any more questions?”

“Just one,” Oliver said. “Did she really not stipulatewhomwe could marry?” He had an idea how to thwart her mad scheme.