More Than Willing (15 page)

He was thankful he didn’t have to come up with some kind of response to keep the conversation jovial. The carriage slowed and he knew the pleasant part of this journey was at an end.

They’d reached Bandishire.

Gray fought the urge to lean back against the cushion seat and hide from the peering glances of the men and women and children who saw a fancy carriage make its way along the street. He didn’t want to notice the people of Bandishire’s curious gazes, or take the chance that someone might recognize him. He’d rather have stolen into town in the dark of night and met with Wattich without anyone knowing. Or better yet, he wished he could have let Maggie bargain with Wattich on her own. But his damnable conscience wouldn’t allow it.

That thought caught him off guard. He didn’t realize he possessed a conscience any more. Not one that worked. He thought it had died when he was fourteen.

“Bandishire must not have many strangers go through town,” Maggie said. She peered out the window as the people streamed from the shops and houses.

“Not usually. We’re far enough from London that not many pass through here. Especially in fancy carriages like yours.”

“The carriage was my father’s. He usually took it to London with him.”

“We’re fortunate he hasn’t returned then. The next best vehicle in the stables was a small keg wagon.”

Gray meant it as a joke, but there was no humor in the look on her face.

“How long has it been since you were here?”

“Fifteen years.”

“Do you recognize any of the people?”

Gray had avoided looking at anyone’s face. Instead, he’d let his gaze pass over the less familiar things, like the condition of the buildings and anything new that might have been built since he’d left. But there wasn’t anything new, and everything that was old seemed older, and more rundown. Even the people’s clothing seemed shabbier somehow.

“Who is that woman?”

Maggie’s question forced him to follow her gaze.

His heart skipped a beat and he thought it might not start again on its own. It took two tries before he
spoke. “That’s Maudie Ransdell. Everyone just calls her the widow, but my brother and I knew her as Maudie.”

“She’s waving at you.”

Gray barely noticed the old woman’s fragile hand waving a clean white handkerchief. His gaze was focused on the age creases in her face, and the laugh lines that still deepened at the corners of her eyes. She still had a twinkle in her eyes but this time the sparkle wasn’t from her jolly nature and merry way, but from the wetness that brimmed to overflowing.

“Stop the carriage!”

Without considering what he would say when he reached her, or why he’d been so foolish to stop, he leaped from the carriage and rushed the few feet to where his old nurse stood.

“Hello, Maudie.”

“Good day, to you, Grayson, my boy.”

“Ah, Maudie,” he said in a rushed whisper the same time he pulled the fragile wisp of a woman into his arms.

He held her for several moments, long enough to get his emotions under control, then separated himself from her without actually releasing her.

“You’ve turned into a very
handsome young man, Grayson.” She dabbed her damp eyes.

“Just handsome enough to get me into trouble.”

“That’s what I told you would happen,” she answered on a laugh.

“I remember.” He lifted one finger and shook it at her the same as she used to shake her finger at him. “Those good looks are going to get you into trouble some day,” he said softly, mimicking the way she used to scold him.

“And they have, haven’t they?”

Gray’s smile faded. “You were always the wise one, Maudie.”

“Should I ask who the lady is?”

Gray looked over his shoulder to the carriage. “Her name’s Maggie Bradford. I think some day I’ll make her my wife.”

Maudie flashed a grin that almost matched the twinkle he remembered from so long ago. Almost.

“I have to go.
” He gave his old nurse another squeeze. “Maybe I’ll see you again some day.”

She smiled and pressed her fingers to his cheek. “Perhaps.”

Gray reached into his pocket and took out one of the two gold coins he’d brought with him. “Good bye, Maudie.” He pressed the coin into her palm.

He didn’t wait to give her a chance to refuse the money but turned to go back to the carriage. Only then did he realize how large the crowd had grown while he’d been talking with Maudie.

“Go,” he said when he’d closed the door to the carriage.

The carriage lurched forward and they made their way through the town and down the rutted road that led to
The Spotted Goose. Maggie remained silent and he was thankful she didn’t ask him any questions. He wasn’t sure he could have found his voice enough to answer her.

Staring into the faces of people he’d once known had been hard enough. There was a chance, though, that he’d be able to forget the way they’d looked at him – as if they expected something of him. But looking into Maudie’s face had been worse. She’d been his nurse and had more of a hand in raising Adrian and him than their mother had. For the first time the guilt of what happened the last time he’d been here wasn’t as bad as the gnawing suspicion that by leaving, he’d somehow made his sin more grievous.

The team of horses ate the distance to The Spotted Goose far quicker than Gray wanted and she still hadn’t spoken. “Aren’t you going to ask me who that old lady was?”

“I think I know. She still has a special fondness for you.”

“Does that surprise you?”

“No, I’ve always said you had a way with women.”

“Even you?”

The air crackled with tension. “Yes, even me. But I have vivid enough nightmares of what would happen if I gave in to you to make sure I don’t fall into your trap.”

Gray tried to laugh away her stinging comment but the easygoing chuckle he could usually raise at a moment’s notice was nowhere to be found. Thankfully, he was saved from letting her see how much her opinion of him hurt. The carriage swung into The Spotted Goose’s yard and stopped.

“Do you plan to be in the inn very long,” Cleary asked when he opened the carriage door.

Gray shook his head. “Just long enough to get something warm to drink and talk to the owner, then we’ll be on our way.”

“Good. The snow’s starting and we don’t want to get stranded out here with Miss Bradford along.”

Gray noticed the snow hit the ground, then looked up. The sky was a dark gray that showed no sign of lightening anytime soon. “We’ll only be a short while. Take care of the horses, then come in for something to eat.”

“Right, Mr. Delaney.”

Gray helped Maggie from the carriage then quickly escorted her to the inn. He stepped inside behind her and shook the snow from his coat and hat, then looked up.

And realized he was about to face his worst nightmare.

The room was packed, with not one empty table or chair to be had. Those who couldn’t sit stood against the wall with a tankard of ale in their hands. Yet, for all the people, the inn was as quiet as if he and Maggie had entered the hallowed sanctuary of a country church on a Friday evening.

Every eye focused on them in watchful anticipation, as if a herald had announced Gray’s coming. Every able person within walking and riding distance seemed to have rushed to The Spotted Goose for a firsthand account of why the lord of Mayfair Manor had chosen to return.

An icy shiver
assaulted his spine. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax, then realized he’d pulled Maggie up against him and tightly held her. He loosened his grip around her waist but didn’t look at her. Instead, he let his gaze move to where Orin Wattich stood behind the bar.

“Welcome to
The Spotted Goose, Mr. Delaney. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you.”

“Yes, a long time.”

“It’s good that you’ve returned.”

Gray looked at the man he remembered from the times he’d come here with his father when he was a lad. Although Wattich was still a large, burly man, he no longer seemed quite the frightening giant Gray had thought him to be when he was younger.

“I’m indeed flattered you and the lady came all this way for a pint of my very good ale.” Wattich wiped his hands on the edge of the semi-clean apron he’d tied around his thick middle and stepped out from behind the bar. “Especially since you have an equally good-quality brew at your fingertips.”

Gray offered Wattich a smile that he hoped gave nothing away. “I have a special fondness for ale, as you’ve probably heard.”

“Then perhaps you’d care to sample my fine ale in private?”

“It would be our pleasure.”

Wattich signaled to a young girl and she rushed to take his place behind the bar.

Gray placed his hand at Maggie’s elbow and followed Wattich to a door everyone knew led to the innkeeper’s private dwelling. When Wattich opened the door, Gray escorted Maggie into a room furnished far differently than what he expected to find in the bachelor’s
domicile.

The chairs clustered before the fireplace were as expensively made as any in Camden House. And one whole wall was lined with bookshelves crowded with a number of well-read books. They ranged from the classics to some of the latest out in publication. Wattich had done a remarkable job of hiding his love of books, as well as passion for knowledge.

The innkeeper closed the door, shutting out the eerie silence that came from what should have been a noisy taproom, then turned. “It’s good to have you back, lad. Maude and I wondered how long you’d stay away.”

“I can understand why Maude would want me to return, but I’m not sure I understand your interest.”

“Don’t you?”

The two men studied each other and finally Wattich moved
further into the room. “Perhaps you’d care to introduce me,” he said, giving Maggie an assessing look.

“Miss Bradford, allow me to present Orin Wattich. Wattich, Miss Margaret Bradford.”

“How do you do, Mr. Wattich.”

“Miss Bradford. It’s an honor to have you visit my establishment
.” Wattich executed a perfect greeting.

“The pleasure’s mine.
The Spotted Goose has a reputation for serving some of the finest ale in this part of the country.”

The innkeeper’s eyebrows arched. “Thank you. How kind of you to say so.”

“May I ask who supplies your ale?”

Gray noticed the wariness in Wattich’s expression but there was also a noticeable lift to his shoulders as his chest puffed with pride.

“The Thratchett Brewery.”

“A fine establishment. They’ve been in business for years.”

“Yes, they have. Could I interest you in a glass of their ale?”

“I don’t think—”
Gray started to say, but Maggie stopped his words with a lift of her hand.

“I’d love a glass,” she
said.

“Please, Miss Bradford, sit down.”

Gray showed Maggie to the chair Wattich indicated and when she was seated, he sat in the chair next to hers. Wattich poured three glasses of ale and brought them over.

“Thank you,” Maggie said, then lifted the glass to her mouth.
“Excellent, Mr. Wattich.”

Wattich acknowledged her with a proud, yet guarded look.

She took another sip, then focused her amazing blue eyes on the innkeeper. “Of course, in my opinion Bradford ale is infinitely superior.”

Wattich’s hand halted with his glass midway to his mouth, his jaw opened slightly, and he stared at her in mild surprise. He hesitated a few moments, then dropped his head back and bellowed a deep laugh. “Spoken like a true brewer,” he said when he’d stopped laughing.

Gray could have hugged her. Her expression when she acknowledged his compliment contained confidence. Her voice echoed with a tone of authority. And the look on Wattich’s face said his opinion of her had soared.

“I’d have been disappointed if you considered the ale you produced equal to any other ale.”

“There is no ale that is equal. My question to you is whether or not you’d like to have my superior ale served in your establishment.”

“Are you offering to buy
The Spotted Goose?”

Gray’s blood raced cold. Bloody hell but she had courage.

“Would you consider selling it?”

The silence that stretched between them sucked the air out of the room
. Gray didn’t release a breath until Wattich shifted in his chair.

“That depends, Miss Bradford.”

“On what?” Her voice remained steady and calm, as if she were entertaining in her drawing room and the weather was the topic of conversation.

“On what Grayson Delaney has to do with
your offer.”

Gray’s heart skipped a beat and he forced himself not to react. “I didn’t realize you’d have an objection to any connection I might have to Miss Bradford.”

Wattich lowered his glass. “I didn’t say I objected. I’m just interested in your involvement in this.”

“Mr. Delaney isn’t—”

Gray held up his hand to stop her explanation. “When I discovered Miss Bradford intended to come here I offered to accompany her because I was familiar with the territory. That is my
only
involvement.”

“So there is nothing you intend to offer toward the purchase of
The Spotted Goose?”

Gray shook his head. “Nothing.”

“I see.”

Orin Wattich rose from his chair and walked to the beveled-glass cupboard and opened a small narrow door on the side. He reached in and took out a bottle then turned to face them.

“Would you care for a glass of
very
fine ale?” he said over the quick intake of Maggie’s breath. “I know you’ll recognize its exquisite quality.”

Wattich filled three clean glasses and brought them over. “I think you’ll like this. I purchased it three years ago. It was a very fine year for Bradford Brewery.”

Gray couldn’t help but notice how Maggie’s hand shook when she took the glass. A feeling of unease settled over him and he considered refusing the glass Wattich held out to him. Almost as if he agreed to more than a glass of ale if he took it.

“I believe Miss Bradford would like to make you an offer for your business,” Gray said, taking a sip of the ale. “But first perhaps you could tell her your asking price for
The Spotted Goose.”

Wattich sat in his chair and rolled the glass between his fingers. “There will be only one asking price.”

Gray smiled. “Then we will have to meet it…if we intend to acquire another inn.”

We
…

Why the hell had he used that word? It would have been just as easy to use
“she.” Then she’ll have to meet it…if she intends to acquire another inn.

But he hadn’t. And Wattich caught his mistake the minute the word was out of his mouth.

“My price is whatever amount Miss Bradford has in her bag.”

“But you don’t even know how much that is,” Maggie said, incredulity evident in her voice. “The amount I brought with me might be no more than a small amount of pin money I carry to buy a meal and see me home in the case of an emergency.”

“That could very well be, but my price remains the amount in your purse,” Wattich said.

Ice rushed through Gray’s veins, a feeling of dread thundering against his temples as ominous as the building terror that set his heart thundering. “And…?”

Wattich turned a penetrating gaze on him. “And your promise that you will reside one month of each year at Mayfair Manor.”

Gray shook his head.

“That you will oversee the estate and see to its welfare, like your mother intended.”

“No,” Gray managed through gritted teeth.

“And that you will make sure your tenants are adequately cared for.”

Gray bolted from his chair. “No. The offer for
The Spotted Goose is between you and Miss Bradford. I have nothing to do with it!”

Wattich followed him to his feet. “The success of this offer depends on you. You have
everything to do with it.”

“Mr. Wattich, I—”

Orin Wattich held up his hand to stop her.

“Save your breath, Maggie,” Gray said, then threw the remaining liquor to the back of his throat. “There’s nothing you can say that will make a difference.”

“But I—”

“Delaney’s right, Miss Bradford. If acquiring
The Spotted Goose is important to either of you, Delaney will agree to my terms.”

Gray’s head pounded. He wouldn’t go back there. He wouldn’t spend even one night beneath Mayfair’s roof
, let alone an entire month. He refused to spend hour after hour planning the best way to make Mayfair profitable when he wished it would have burned to the ground the night of the fire. And he wouldn’t… no, he couldn’t call on each of the tenants like his mother and father had done to make sure their house was in good repair and that they weren’t going without.

Not after what he’d done. He never intended to face any of them again. And if he agreed to Wattich’s terms, that’s exactly what he’d have to do. Surely Wattich knew he’d never agree to that.

The air caught in Gray’s throat. Of course Wattich knew Gray wouldn’t. That’s why he’d made the terms. Because he knew Gray would never agree to them.

Gray walked to the cupboard and refilled his glass with the Bradford ale to separate himself from Wattich. “What would you do if I took you up on your ridiculous offer?”

“Do you think I made those stipulations because I thought you wouldn’t agree to them?” Wattich frowned. “I’ve run The Spotted Goose for more than three decades. I wouldn’t gamble with it so foolishly.”

Gray studied Wattich’s demeanor as his features grew more serious. Bloody hell. His offer wasn’t a joke. He took a step toward Gray and for the first time in his life Gray wanted to back down.

“Do you know what it’s been like since you left Mayfair Estate all those years ago? Night after night the old men sit in my taproom and tell stories about how good life was when there was a lord of the manor.

“Men like Colin Wingston and Robby Stephens tell everyone what it was like growing up with you. You were their hero, and over the years your image has only become larger and more perfect. You could ride a horse better, shoot a rifle better and skip a rock further than any of them. Rumor has it that with just a smile you could get any girl in the county to fall in love with you. You’re a god to them, Delaney. They look up to you, idolize you. Why, I don’t know. But they do.

“The young men listen for every scrap of gossip that comes up from London about you and they’re confident that we’ll prosper again when you come back. Most of them should have moved on long ago to make something more of their lives, but they’ve stayed here because everyone’s sure you’ll come back some day. And when you do, everything will be like it was before.”

“Stop!”

Gray swiped at the film of perspiration that covered his forehead and lifted the bottle of Bradford ale. He sloshed some in his glass and threw it to the back of his throat, then turned to face the man threatening to ruin his life. “I didn’t ask for them to remember me like that.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s who you are. It’s who they
want you to be.”

“Well, I’m not that person! And I want nothing to do with Mayfair.”

“If you want The Spotted Goose you will.”

“Then I guess
The Spotted Goose won’t have the distinction of serving Bradford ale.”

Gray suddenly remembered that Maggie was in the room with them; that she’d heard every word Wattich had said and now she knew. He turned to look at her and a knot settled deep in his gut. A
frown creased her forehead and her cheeks were dark as if she was embarrassed that she’d been a witness to what Wattich revealed. But the look in her eyes caused him the greatest apprehension—the look of disappointment. “We’re leaving.”