West’s mouth watered and his hands shook. He slid his hands onto the bar, palms down, to stop the slight trembling. He’d made a promise. And when he decided to do something, he didn’t do it by half. “Only watered ale for me.”

“Now that’s something I never thought I’d hear from your lips, Westbury,” said Jax.

“I promised my sisters I’d reform.”

“Hate to lose my best customer,” Jax joked.

“You’ve taken too much of my fortune already.”

Jax made a bow. “Thank you for choosing our fine establishment, Your Grace.”

“Oh, don’t Your Grace me, you bastard. We’re well past that. My life’s taken a few unexpected twists since I saw you last. Found an American heiress to marry and then she tossed me over for one of her countrymen.”

“You don’t sound too broken up about it,” Jax commented. “You’ll be after another heiress then?”

“Regrettably.”

Jax took the seat next to him and gave Gus a look that sent the barkeep to the far side of the bar. “Look, Westbury, I’m glad to hear that you’re reforming. I’ve been worried about you lately.”

West groaned. “Not you, too. Can’t a man enjoy his watered ale in peace?”

“The last time you were here you seemed different. You had this empty look in your eyes and you started that fight with Gus. It wasn’t like you. It was like . . . well, I’ve seen it before in the eyes of the orphans I worked with in the factory during my boyhood. A hopelessness. Almost a wish for death.”

West sipped his ale, wishing it was something stronger. “I had a bad night, that’s all. It won’t happen again.”

“If I can rise from the streets to make a good living for myself and become the owner of a fashionable establishment, then you, who were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, can turn things around and make something of your life.”

“I’ve made a mess of my life, just as my father, may he rot in hell, predicted.”

“At least you know your parentage. The matrons at the orphanage knew nothing of my father and could only tell me that my mother wasn’t from England. My guess is that she hailed from some place with a tropical climate. I hate the cold and damp here as though it was an aversion I learned in the womb. I’d like to think that my mother, whoever she was, wherever she was from, would be proud of me now. The orphaned street urchin is now the elegant, powerful, handsome devil you see before you.”

“I’m sure she would be. You’ve done well for yourself, Jax.” West clapped him on the back. “The Devil’s Staircase is nearly reputable now.”

“I serve sparkling wine and cater to duchesses from time to time.”