More Than Willing (9 page)

“Miss Bradford?”

Grayson pulled away from her so fast her knees buckled. He pressed his finger across her lips as a warning not to answer the voice and held her long enough for her to get her bearing.

“I can’t—
”

“You can,” he whispered in her ear as he wrapped his arm around her waist and led her to the desk. He helped her sit, then placed a pen in her hand and slid some papers in front of her.

“Miss Bradford?” the voice called again.

“Answer him,” Gray whispered as he darted across the room and pressed himself in the corner behind a floor-to-ceiling bookcase.

Maggie shook her head to clear it and took several huge gulps of air before she could make her voice work. “I’m in here,” she replied. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Miss Bradford. Frankie.”

“Oh, come in.”

The door opened but thankfully, Frankie didn’t step inside the room.

“Are you all right, Miss Bradford?”

Maggie knew she looked like a frightened rabbit caught in a hunter’s
sights. “Yes, I’m fine. Have you been calling long?”

“No, just a couple
of times.”

“I was looking over these papers and must have fallen asleep. I appreciate you coming to check on me.”

“I was makin’ my rounds across the yard and saw light from your office and thought I’d best check.”

“Thank you. I’ll just put everything away here and go back to the house.”

“Did you want me to stay and walk you home?”

Maggie shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

“All right. You holler if you need me for something.”

“I will, Frankie. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The young man nodded respectfully before closing the door behind him.

Maggie waited, then slid her chair back and rose to her feet. He stood to her right, still in the shadows, but there was enough light in the room for her to see him clearly
—if she had the courage to look at him. But she didn’t.

How had she let that happen? How had she given in to him like she had? She should have known better than to kiss him. She’d always known she couldn’t allow herself to be emotionally connected to anyone. Her parents’ marriage had taught her that, and she was cut from the same cloth as her mother.

Just as Grayson Delaney was identical to her—

“Are you all right?”

His voice wrapped around her like a warm shawl and she desperately wanted to turn the mantel clock back to the minute before he’d kissed her. Then, she wanted to find the courage to push him away when he tried. “Please leave.”

“Maggie, I’m sor—”

“Don’t call me that.” She spun around to face him. “And don’t tell me you’re sorry. You’re not nearly as sorry as I am.”

His thick dark brows arched and the corners of his mouth curled upward. “I wasn’t going to say I was sorry that I kissed you. I was going to tell you I was sorry I wasn’t more careful.
Frankie finding us alone at this time of night could have ruined your reputation.”

“Ah, my reputation. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of experience nearly ruining someone’s reputation. Well, you needn’t worry on my account. Even if we
had been discovered there would have been no consequences.”

“You don’t think I would have felt honor-bound to make an honest woman of you?”

The tone of his voice was cold and Maggie could tell he teetered on the edge of being angry. She wasn’t sure she understood the reason. Perhaps his frustration was because of their narrow escape at being discovered together. Perhaps the liquor he’d drunk earlier had affected his judgment. Or he might think her remark questioned his integrity.

“What you felt wouldn’t have mattered,” she countered. “I wouldn’t have allowed you to take responsibility for anything that happened.”

“You’re very self-assured, aren’t you?”

“Not self-assured,” she argued, a little confused by his assessment. “I simply have a logical understanding of what I will and will not allow to influence my life.”

“What is it you are determined to avoid?” he asked, stepping closer to her. “Friendship? Companionship? Love?”

Maggie paused. His honesty was unnerving, his accuracy frightening. And yet, perhaps it was best to make her position known in no uncertain terms. She turned a quarter turn to face him squarely. “I will not risk doing anything that will jeopardize my sisters’ futures. I intend to take them to London to give them a Season. When they have found husbands who will love them and take care of them…” She paused just long enough to give her words the full impact they warranted. “…I will come back home and run the brewery.”

“Alone?”

“Yes, Mr. Delaney. Alone.”

He smiled. “That sounds very lonely.”

Maggie looked into his handsome face and felt a twinge of hurt because always being alone would be lonely. But loneliness was far better than the anger and hurt and bitterness her parents had lived with every day of their lives. Her mistake was that she’d allowed Grayson Delaney to awaken all the emotions she thought she’d buried so deep they could never be uncovered.

She knew without a doubt how dangerous it was to give those emotions free reign.

“I know why you’re here,” she said with all the coolness she could muster.

“You do?”

“Yes. As a second son you are in the unfortunate position of having to find a wife who will guarantee you a large enough income to provide you with the lifestyle to which you are accustomed. Why you chose me or Bradford Brewery out of all the eligible victims was probably no more significant than the winners and losers in a game of chance, but this time you’ve chosen wrong.”

Maggie took a step toward him and lifted her chin just enough to portray a haughty demeanor. “I will not let you gamble and drink away every pound of profits from my brewery. I. Will. Not.”

“What a lofty opinion you have of me.”

“My opinion of men with similar reputations as your own was hard earned.”

Maggie spun away from him before he could answer. “It’s late,” she said, pulling her cloak tight around her shoulders. “We will meet in the morning to review the ledgers you brought. Then, if you are still willing to act as my representative, I will leave the negotiations with Mr. Briars up to you.”

Maggie held herself as erect as the most dignified businessman. “You will be compensated for any extra time you devote to this venture, Mr. Delaney. And,” she added when his dark brows shot upward, “you will be rewarded handsomely if you can persuade Mr. Briars to sell the King’s Crown.”

He smiled openly. “I’ll look forward to discussing the terms of our agreement with the same enthusiasm as I will enjoy showing you I can bring about the successful purchasing of the
King’s Crown. But let me warn you from the start, Maggie, dear. I am sure what you consider an adequate reward and what I consider an adequate reward are worlds apart.”

“I’m
certain they are,” she agreed with a false bravado she was afraid wasn’t confident enough to conceal how much her heart thundered in her breast. “But you will find I am a ruthless.”

He laughed. “Have you already assumed that I will be an easy mark?”

“I would not presume anything of the kind.”

Maggie gave him a smile she prayed dripped of honey
, then bravely walked toward him. “I am well acquainted with men of your ilk. I cannot begin to tell you how much you remind me of my father,” she said when she reached him.

He opened the door and let her pass. “What a nice thing for you to say.”

“That wasn’t exactly a compliment.” She walked away from him.

“I know.”

Her feet nearly stumbled at his response.

“Are these the papers you wanted?” Henry Tibbles asked, handing Maggie the figures she’d asked him to bring.

She looked at the pages first, then handed them across the desk to where Gray sat perusing the figures he’d brought from Geordie Briars.

“Thank you,” he said, glancing from the papers to the ledgers he’d spread out on the opposite side of the desk. When he looked up he nearly laughed at the disapproving glare Tibbles gave him.
The fellow clearly did not approve of an association between himself and Miss Bradford. Gray looked back to the papers to hide the smile he couldn’t keep from his face.

“Will there be anything else, Miss Bradford?” Henry asked.

“No, Henry. I think that’s all unless—”

“Are these the most current figures, Mr. Tibbles?” Gray
flipped through the bundle of pages Henry had just given them.

“Yes, Mr. Delaney. Those are the final totals of the ale produced at the brewery for the past five years. On the back page of each section the quantities are broken down by gallons, kegs, tons, and case bottles. As you can see, the brewery is producing more every year.”

“Yes, I see,” he replied. “But the profits don’t reflect that. Is there a reason they don’t?”

Tibbles’s questioning glance
darted in his employer’s direction.

“There have been added expenses the last few years that have eaten into the profits,” Maggie
said. “Hopefully, this year we can eliminate some of them.”

Gray didn’t delve further into why the profits were so miniscule but let the subject drop.
He had a feeling Baron Bradley was responsible for their lack of profits.

“Thank you, Mr. Tibbles.
” Gray sought to put an end to the uncomfortable tension his question had caused. “You’ve been a great help.”

With a stiff nod, Tibbles excused himself and walked across the room. “If you need anything else,” he said when he reached the entrance, “just ask. I’ll keep my office door open so I can hear you easy enough.”

“Thank you,” Gray said.

Tibbles left and Gray couldn’t help but notice that Maggie Bradford’s long-time employee didn’t close the door behind him like he’d found it when he brought the papers up, but propped it open wide.

When Tibbles’s footsteps faded, Gray turned back to Maggie. He couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his lips at the brilliant pink blush in her cheeks.

“See, Maggie, dear. You have nothing to worry about. Your minions will make every effort to protect you from my nefarious ways.”

“I don’t need anyone to protect me.” She placed the pen she held in her hands down on the desktop with a decided slap and glared at him. “I would like to talk to you before we begin.”

“Ah, I was wondering when we were going to get around to this.”

“Please, be serious.”

He
sat back in his chair and tried to look contrite. “Very well. You have my complete attention.”

She
glared at him as if she didn’t find his attempt to humor her amusing in the least.

“From the time I was small, my mother instilled in me the philosophy that to make a mistake wasn’t the tragedy
.” She rushed this out as if the best way to confront an uncomfortable situation was to put it behind her as quickly as possible. “To repeat the mistake was. I made a grave mistake last night.”

“Exactly what mistake are you referring to?”

“You know exactly what I’m referring to.”

“I think I do.
” He held back his smile. “Except I’m not sure I consider it a mistake.”

“Then you should. Because it
was
a mistake. A mistake that will never happen again.”

“It won’t?”

She stopped, her breath catching in mid sigh, her body halting as if she’d turned to stone. Her face turned pale and the small inkling of concern he felt for her grew larger.

“Please.
” She kept her voice low, perhaps for Henry Tibbles’s benefit, or because her word was meant as a plea, and begging came so very hard for her. “It can’t.”

She rose from her chair and walked to a window that overlooked the small park below. “You were right wh
en you said I needed you. I do,” she said without turning to face him. “A woman is at a monumental disadvantage in today’s world. My mother realized that too, except she had Father to act as the figurehead for Bradford Brewery. I don’t…until my father returns,” she added quickly.

“So you are forced to accept my interference.”

“Your assessment was correct when you said we need to acquire more tied properties. How advantageous is it to produce more ale if you have nowhere to distribute it? The King’s Crown will be a huge boon. It has one of the finest reputations in the county and the amount it would purchase would be very impressive.”

“Has your father left you in such a precarious position?”

She didn’t answer and he sensed she wouldn’t without prodding. He crossed one ankle over the opposite knee and gave her his full attention. “I realize I struck a nerve but you might as well explain yourself. If you knew me better, you’d know I am like a dog with a bone. Once I latch onto something, I don’t let go.”

She looked over her shoulder and gazed into his face for a long revealing moment. “Have you ever met my father?”

“No, I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure.” He tried to imagine what kind of man would risk his family’s future over a deck of cards, then abandon them rather than face what he’d done. “Or wouldn’t I think it was a pleasure?”

She turned
away from him again but her smile reflected in the pane of the window. “Oh, yes. It would be a pleasure. Everyone who meets my father adores him. He’s the life of a party, always happy, always the center attraction, and he enjoys nothing more than to drink the night away with his friends.”

“But…”

“But sometimes he forgets he has a family to come home to, or that others rely on him to make good and wise decisions.”

“Which he doesn’t always do.”

She shook her head.

“How did your mother handle this?”

Her expression changed. He thought he’d seen every facet of her personality but at the mention of her mother her face took on a warm glow.

“My mother was hopelessly in love with my father and
did everything in her power to make up for his shortcomings.”

She hesitated for a few seconds and Gray didn’t rush her to continue. Somehow he knew it was important for her to tell him how special her mother was.

She released a sigh. “Mother was a wine merchant’s daughter working in her father’s shop the first time she met Father. She said it was love at first sight for her, but it took her a little longer to convince Father that he loved her enough to marry her.”

“Which she evidently did.”

“Oh, yes. Father said it didn’t take all that much work on Mother’s part. He held off because he didn’t want to make it too easy on her.”

Gray smiled. “Did your father’s family object to him marrying a merchant’s daughter?”

“Not terribly much. Father wasn’t Baron Bradley then, but my grandfather’s second son. He acquired the title, however, less than a year after he and Mother married when Father’s older brother and my grandfather both died of a fever.” Worry lines darkened Maggie’s features.

“Is that when things change
d for your parents?” Gray asked.

“Father was totally unprepared for the responsibility that came with the barony. He’d lived the spoiled, pampered life of a second son, never dreaming that the day would come when he’d be forced to run the estates as well as the brewery.”

Gray tried not to react to the description she painted of the life of a second son, but much of what she said struck close to home.

“Fortunately,” she continued, “Mother had spent her entire life helping in her father’s shop. She was a brilliant business woman who understood the inner workings of a business far better than Father could ever hope to.”

“A trait she passed down to you.”

She paused as her fingers ran across the wood that separated the
window panes. “I cannot claim to possess her brilliance and I will never be as accomplished a business woman as she was. But she endeavored to teach me everything she knew. One cannot come away without a certain amount of knowledge when taught by a master.”

“So your mother ran the brewery while your father ran away to London.”
Gray tried not to let his statement come out like an accusation but from the narrowing of her gaze, he’d failed.

“Father was overwhelmed by every aspect of the brewery. London Society was familiar territory to him. He hated life in the country and was bored to death whenever he was forced to spend too much time here. So he left to go where he was comfortable, where he wasn’t lost in Mother’s shadow.”

“Your mother sounds like an amazing woman.”

“She was.”

“I wish I could have known her.” Gray wasn’t sure when he’d crossed the room or how he could have gotten here when he’d sworn he would stay far away from her.

“You would have admired her.
” She seemed unaware of how close he stood.

“How old were you when she died?”

“Nearly seventeen. Felicity and Charlotte were only nine and ten. Too young to get along without a mother, so Aunt Hester came to take care of us. She was Father’s paternal aunt and her family was already grown.”

“But you no longer needed a mother.”

She turned around and the surprise registered on her face. She hesitated for a few long seconds as if she wanted to step away from him, then braced her shoulders and stood firm.

Sometimes
he couldn’t guess what she thought, but now, he read her like a book. “You don’t have to answer,” he said, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper. “My guess would be that you were closer to your mother than your sisters. And that you missed her more than anyone.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist as if hugging her body would make her decision
to reveal anything easier.

“There’s so much about Mother that Felicity and Lottie were too young to remember, or appreciate. They loved Mama but they didn’t know her like Father and I did. When she died, we were the ones who truly realized what we’d lost.”

Gray was surprised by her last admission. “Your father loved your mother that much?”

She frowned. “What? Did you think my father didn’t love her?”

“I don’t know what I thought.” He kept his hands at his side so he didn’t reach out to her. “I just assumed that—”

“That because my father drank
and gambled much of the profits Mother worked so hard to make that he didn’t love her?”

“That’s certainly what his actions suggest.”

“Nothing could be further from the truth. My father drank and gambled because he couldn’t cope with the huge responsibility that had been thrust on him. He spent a majority of his time in London because he was unable to compete with Mother.” She lowered her gaze to the floor. “Can you imagine how embarrassing it was when the brewery workers went to Mother instead of Father with their questions? Or how uncomfortable it made him to delay answering any question until he’d talked the situation over with Mother to make sure he didn’t give the wrong answer?”

“I imagine it made for some very awkward moments.”

“Yes,” she answered on a sigh that was filled with the hurt and embarrassment only a child can feel for her parent.

“And yet your father loved your m
other?”

As if she couldn’t look him in the eye, she turned again to stare out the window. “As much as Mother loved him in return. It was a love that was fated to cause more heartache than joy, more pain than elation.”

She lifted her small hand and slid her index finger across the window panes. “One day when I was about ten or eleven years old I came in here and found Mother sitting at the desk. Her eyes were red and I realized she’d been crying. Do you know what I asked her?”

Gray didn’t
reply because no answer was necessary.

“Most children would have asked their parent what was wrong, but I didn’t. I said, ‘What did Father do, Mother?’ Of course she told me he hadn’t done anything, but I knew it was a lie and became angry. Because I was immature and didn’t understand life at all, I asked my Mother why she’d married Father when he made her so unhappy.”

“What did she say?” Gray asked because he was anxious to hear the answer.

“She said, ‘I married him because I couldn’t live my life without him. If I would have to make the choice a thousand times over, I wouldn’t choose anyone different
ly.’”

She turned from the window until she faced him squarely. Her gaze locked with his as if she wanted to make sure she had his full attention.

“And the reason you told me this?” He tried to look more relaxed than he felt.

The air crackled with a tension that came close to sparking. He knew what she was going to say. He knew why she’d told him a
bout her mother and father. She intended to warn him that she would not repeat her mother’s mistake. As if she’d have the possibility to make that mistake.