More Than Willing (10 page)

He wanted to laugh. He had no intention of marrying anyone. He was a confirmed bachelor, an irredeemable rake, and most of all, he had no plan to change.

He looked at her and opened his mouth to tell her how remote that possibility was, when

t
he air left his body in a rush so strong he reached for the corner of the desk to steady himself. A thought invaded his mind that was so potent he couldn’t swing free of it. For the first time in his life he was filled with an emotion so intoxicating he thought he might be drunk from it.

He wanted to smile.

Damn
. He
was
smiling.

“I know why you’re here, Mr. Delaney
.”

Damn
. Why hadn’t he seen it before? He looked at the serious expression on her face and broadened his smile. “Do you really?”

He doubted it. He most assuredly doubted it because he didn’t know until just this moment why he’d come – why he’d
really come.

“Yes. You want my brewery. And you think you can marry me to get it.”

“Which I can’t, you’re telling me.”

“Which. You. Can’t. I won’t make the same mistake my mother made. I won’t marry a man so identical to my father it’s as if you’d been cast from the same mold. I won’t spend my life regretting a mistake I made in a moment of weakness.”

Gray shrugged his shoulders and sighed heavily. “Very well.” He pushed himself away from the corner of the desk with a quick shove, then picked up the ledgers he’d worked on and looked at her. “Should we get busy then?”

He motioned for her to sit back down so they could resume working on the papers he’d brought from Briars. When he
glanced up he nearly burst out laughing at the surprised expression on her face. “What?” he asked with all the innocence he could muster.

“That’s it?” she stuttered, her eyes as big and round as china saucers.

“That’s what?”

“You aren’t going to argue with me, or tell me that wasn’t your intent?”

“To marry you to get Bradford Brewery?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No, that wasn’t my intent. When we marry, Bradford Brewery won’t have a thing to do with it.”

“Didn’t you just hear me?”

“I heard you fine. You think the reason we’ll marry is because of the brewery. But it won’t be.”

“No, because I have no intention of ever marrying you. Ever.”

“I know,” he said in a placating tone. “Now, should we get busy?”

Gray stood before his chair and waited for her to cross the room, but she didn’t. She simply stood as still as a marble statue and stared at him with the most beguilingly confused look he’d ever seen. With an inward chuckle, he placed his ledgers back on the corner of the desk and walked across the room.

“Maggie, dear,” he said, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t worry so. You have nothing to fear. I have the same philosophy in regards to marriage as I have with kissing.”

Gray
couldn’t help himself. He shouldn’t move too fast. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her. But when he looked down at that delectable turned-up nose and her more than kissable lips, his body seemed to move on its own.

He placed his index finger beneath her chin and tilted her head upward just enough so his lips could meet her lips. Very slowly, he lowered his head and kissed her.

She started to pull away, but he deepened his kiss before she could break their contact. She moaned, not a moan of fear or revulsion, but a small, earthy sound that indicated her surrender.

He couldn’t risk kissing her too long, that would make her fearful of him and resist him at every turn. Yet, his heart raced faster and he wanted to continue to kiss her until the same time next year. He shared one final kiss with her and pulled away.

“You’re safe with me, Maggie, my love.” He dropped his forehead to hers. “I’d never kiss an unwilling female.” He dragged in a deep breath of air. “And I’ll never marry an unwilling bride.”

Her breath shuddered and she opened her mouth to say something but a sound from the doorway stopped her.

“Do you need anything else, Miss Bradford?”

Gray dropped his hands from her shoulders and turned his head
. Henry Tibbles stood in the doorway.

“N…no, Henry. There’s nothing. Thank you, for checking.”

“Of course,” Tibbles said with a scowl on his face and a warning glare in Gray’s direction. He turned.

“Mr.
Tibbles.” Gray stopped him. “Do you have the income and expenses for the current year compiled?”

“Of course,” he answered in a terse tone.

“Miss Bradford and I will need those figures as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll bring them right up.”

Tibbles started to leave but Gray wanted to make at least one attempt to ease the hostility he felt in Maggie’s employee. “Mr. Tibbles?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Thank you.”

Tibbles hesitated, then his shoulders seemed to ease just a fraction. “You’re welcome
, sir.”

When he was gone, Gray turned back to Maggie. Her face
appeared pale beneath her flushed cheeks. “We’d best get busy,” he said. “I’d like to have all the information at hand before I meet with Briars again tonight.”

“You’re going back…tonight?”

“Yes. But this time you’d be wise to let me give you my report in the morning. I’m afraid we won’t have Tibbles to interrupt us, and I can’t promise to be near the gentleman I was last time.”

Gray chuckled at her shocked expression but he quickly ushered her to her chair before she had time to chastise him. When she was settled, he relaxed back into his chair and propped an ankle across the opposite knee. The sooner he got all the information he needed, the sooner he could escape the physical torture of being so close to her.

“Now, I believe you have the figures to indicate the annual ale produced here. How many kegs do you show the brewery produced last year?”

Maggie tightened the sash of her robe around her waist and slipped her feet into her slippers, then walked across her dark bedroom and silently opened the door. She couldn’t stay confined any longer. She couldn’t stand the waiting, not knowing what progress Gray had made with Mr. Briars.

She lit a candle from one of the few glowing embers in the fireplace and stepped out into the hallway, then down the stairs. When she reached the entryway she hesitated, not certain which room she wanted to go to. Snow had started falling again and from the morning room she could look out the double French doors onto the patio and the garden beyond. She could start a fire in the grate and snuggle up in a blanket and hope to eventually fall asleep in the chair.

Or, she could go to the room her Aunt Hester had turned into a sitting room. Only a few hours had passed since she and her sisters retired for bed and the room should still be a little warm. Or…

…she could go to the library.

From there the large windows on the east looked out onto the street, then to the brewery beyond it. Perhaps she’d catch a glimpse of Mr. Delaney when he returned. The expression on his face might tell if the evening had gone well or not. Perhaps she’d just watch him for a few seconds and pray that this time her heart wouldn’t race in her breast when she saw him. Or that her lips wouldn’t tingle as they had each time she remembered the kiss they’d shared this afternoon. Or that the heavy weight wouldn’t settle deep in her stomach like it did each time she thought of him.

Perhaps this time she wouldn’t ache to have him hold her or kiss her or…

Maggie walked to the library and closed the door behind her. She leaned her back against the oak wood and shut her eyes. She’d never been so confused in her life. Never felt so torn. She knew how important it was to win this battle her heart seemed so eager to lose. She knew how close she was to giving up everything that had always been important to her.

She pushed herself away from the door and walked to the window. The snow came down heavier than before and she looked at the entrance to the brewery, hoping to see horse tracks. But the snow lay smooth and undisturbed. Maggie thought of him riding the two hours it would take him to return from the
King’s Crown and shivered.

“Aren’t you feeling well?” Aunt Hester asked from the doorway.

Maggie spun around. “No, I’m fine. I just couldn’t sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“You didn’t wake me. I was writing Jonathan and Mary to inform them of the progress we’ve made for Felicity and Charlotte’s come-out.”

“Are you sure your son and daughter-in-law won’t mind introducing Felicity and Lottie into Society?”

“Of course not. You three are the only family Jonathan has. And Mary’s as excited to escort the three of you around Society as I am. She said she’s missed the excitement of planning a Season now that her daughters are all grown and married.”

Aunt Hester sat down in the chair closest to the fireplace and pulled a wrap over her legs. “She’s already put out the word that Felicity and Charlotte will be arriving in London for the start of the Season and said invitations are pouring in that include them.”

Maggie looked out the window at the undisturbed snow at the entrance to the brewery yard. She turned back to Aunt Hester. “You know there’s a good possibility that I won’t be able to leave as soon as you and the girls must.”

“Yes, but I’m sure it will only be a matter of a few weeks until you can join us.”

“Hopefully. Have you given Jonathan a definite date when you plan to arrive?”

Aunt Hester shook her head. “I wrote to say that we would spend Christmas here then leave sometime toward the end of January.”

“I wish the brewing season were over. So much depends on our success.”

“I know, dear.”

Maggie rubbed her fingers against her temples. “Do you think we will weather this?”

“Of course we will. Our luck has held out this long. I don’t see why it won’t a little longer.”

Maggie’s heart raced in her chest and she stared at her aunt. “I’m so frightened. Someone could find out about Papa, and Felicity and Charlotte wouldn’t have a Season at all. If that happened, we’d not only lose this house, but we’d be at the mercy of Cousin Lyman. You know as well as I that he’ll do everything in his power to get his hands on my brewery.”

“Don’t borrow trouble,” Aunt Hester said leaning back in her chair. “If that were going to happen, it would have happened a long time ago.”

Maggie walked back to the window and pulled aside the drape. “I hope you’re right. But—
”

“No one will discover anything unless we make a mistake. And we’re both too careful to let that happen.”

“You’re right.”

“Now, why don’t you tell me what the Earl of Camden’s son is doing working in your brewery?”

Maggie spun around to face an inquisitive expression on her aunt’s face. “How did you know the earl’s son was here?”

“I had to have Mr. Tibbles make out a draft to pay Mrs. Crawford for the work she’s done so far. The poor thing has been having a time of it since her husband was thrown from his horse last fall. When Mr. Tibbles delivered the payment this afternoon, he asked to speak privately with me.”

“What about?”

“It seems he’s quite concerned that you and Mr. Delaney are spending a great deal of time together.”

“We are not—”

“And,” Aunt Hester interrupted with a lift of her hand, “that you have given him a great deal of authority which Mr. Tibbles sees as a grave mistake.”

Maggie swallowed. “Does Tibbles realize that Grayson Delaney is the Earl of Camden’s son?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t. He referred to Delaney as a common laborer more than once.”
Aunt Hester rose from the chair and walked to Maggie. “Is there a reason Grayson wants to keep his identity a secret?”

Maggie nodded. “He said he recently acquired a brewery and knows nothing about running one. He’s determined to learn everything he can about the brewing process here but he’s afraid if the workers find out he’s an earl’s son they won’t be as eager to work alongside him.”

“He has a point there.” Aunt Hester nodded in understanding. “Did Delaney happen to say which brewery came into his possession?”

“I asked, but he wouldn’t say.”

A smile lifted the corners of her aunt’s mouth. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m just pleased to hear he’s finally settling down. You know, his escapades have been the talk of London for years.”

“I know.
” Maggie stared into the darkness. “That’s what makes me wish I didn’t have to work so closely with him.”

“What, exactly, does that mean?”

Maggie started when she realized what she’d just revealed, then decided it wouldn’t hurt to include her aunt in what she and Grayson Delaney were trying to do. “Mr. Delaney discovered that Geordie Briars is interested in selling the King’s Crown.”

“The
King’s Crown? Your mother tried to acquire that place for years with no success.”

“I know, but Mr. Delaney is positive that this time Mr. Briars is serious about selling.”

“And Grayson volunteered to negotiate this acquisition?”

Maggie nodded. “He’s there right now. That’s why I couldn’t sleep. I was watching for him to return.”

“I see. Has he returned?”

“No. But it shouldn’t be much longer.”

Maggie’s aunt was silent for several long minutes. “Did you ask him to negotiate for the King’s Crown?”

“I intended to negotiate myself, but Mr. Delaney said he thought Briars would talk more freely with a man than a woman.”

“Do you agree?”

“You know I do. Mother found that out in nearly everything that happened here. No one takes a woman seriously, especially in business matters.”

Maggie watched a smile brighten her aunt’s features. “What do you find so humorous?”

“Not humorous, Margaret. But remarkable. I think I am watching a miracle unfold before my eyes.”

“What miracle?”

“Mr. Tibbles was here this afternoon and spent a great deal of time pointing out Mr. Delaney’s shortcomings.”

Maggie arched her brows. “What exactly does he see as Mr. Delaney’s shortcomings?”

“He’s concerned Mr. Delaney’s intentions aren’t honorable. He thinks there’s the possibility that he’ll try to get the brewery through marriage.”

“Is that what you think he intends?” Maggie asked.

“I hadn’t given the possibility much thought.”

Maggie couldn’t hold her aunt’s gaze and lifted the drape to look out the window. “If you had, you’d know you have nothing to fear. I would never make the same mistake my mother made.”

“Why? Because you think your mother made a grave error in marrying your father?”

“Of course she did.”

“Even though they loved each other and had many years of happiness together?”

“No amount of happiness was worth the sorrow they caused each other.”

A sad smile formed on her aunt’s lips. “Then you are in more danger than your mother ever was. Your father was my
brother and I cared deeply for him. But I wasn’t blind to his faults. Neither was your mother. Her mistake was that she loved him so deeply she thought she could make up for all his shortcomings instead of helping him to overcome them. You, my dear, are in danger of not being brave enough to look past any man’s faults to see the strengths beneath.”

“Perhaps that’s because I saw what Father’s weaknesses did,” Maggie said defensively. “It ruined both their lives and I don’t intend to let that happen to me.”

Her aunt reached out and gently patted her arm. “Don’t focus on the comparisons between your father and Grayson Delaney. It’s possible you might miss some very important differences.”

Her aunt’s words surprised her.
Maggie didn’t want to put thought into what her aunt was saying and turned back to look out the window. “He’s here,” she whispered as Gray’s horse loped slowly up the street.

Her Aunt Hester
rose and stepped close to share a spot at the window and together they watched the horse head toward the house instead of the stable.

“Is he coming here?” Aunt Hester asked.

Gray’s limp body swayed from side to side, then tipped forward. He was drunk. “From the look of him I doubt he knows where he’s going.”

“Should we send someone out to help him?”

Maggie’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. She remembered watching her father come home night after night in the same condition and each time her mother had sent someone out to help him inside and up the stairs. That was one ritual she wouldn’t repeat.

“No. Mr. Delaney managed to make it home in that condition. He can find his own bed by himself too.”

“But—”

“No! I’ll not take care of another drunk.”

She couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice. Nor could she keep her temper from soaring. How dare he do this to her. How dare he walk into her life as if he belonged there. He’d kissed her and woken up the emotions she’d buried so long ago. He made her care for him when he was exactly like her father. How
dare
he!

She spun away from the window and headed for the door. He could freeze out there for all she cared. She was going to bed where it was cozy and warm. She’d nearly reached the door when Aunt Hester’s cry stopped her cold.

“Margaret!” she cried again.

She raced back to the window and looked out to where Grayson Delaney’s body lay half-buried in the snow.

“Damn him!” she ground out between her clenched teeth. “Damn him, damn him, damn him!”

She stormed
from the room and yanked her cloak from the hall closet.

“Do you need help, Margaret?” her aunt asked as she threw her wrap around her shoulders and jerked open the front door.

“Just don’t let me kill him,” she replied as she stomped out the door. “He’s not worth hanging for.”

Maggie raced down the steps as fast as the skiff of new snow would allow her to go and stood above his prone body with her fists on her hips and an angry glare in her eyes. She wasn’t dressed warm enough to keep the gusts of cold air from reaching her skin and the snow had ruined her slippers. Damn him!

“I see you enjoyed your evening, Mr. Delaney.”

He’d landed on his back in the snow and his eyes were closed, but at the sound of her voice he stirred.

“Maggie—”

“I should leave you out here to freeze,” she said glaring at him, “and I would except that part of the reason you’re in this shape is because you were on a mission for Bradford Brewery.”

His eyes opened to narrow slits and he tried to talk but all he managed was a low moan.

“I can see there’s no need asking what progre
ss you made with Geordie Briars.” She wrapped her arms around her middle to hold her cloak tighter. “It’s doubtful you could carry on an intelligent conversation.”

“Maggie…
help.”

“Oh, I’ll help you. This time. But never again. And I won’t allow you into the house.”