More Than Willing

by Laura Landon

  “Of course. But after the rash of accidents that have happened at the brewery he and I decided it wouldn’t be wise for you to go all that way unprotected.”

  “How dare you!”

  “It’s only your welfare I’m looking after, Maggie, my love.”

  “Stop calling me that! And have Cleary stop this carriage right now!”

  “Sorry, Maggie. You’ll just have to put up with my company because I have no intention of going back.”

  She glared at him with as much anger as she could muster but he only smiled at her in return. Before they left the lane he’d stretched out his long, muscular legs and made himself comfortable. When he was situated into the corner, he crossed his arms over his chest and dropped his head back against the padding beside the window as if he intended to take a nap.

  “Why?”

  “Why, what?” he asked in a lazy drawl.

  She waited to see if he opened his eyes but he didn’t. “Why are you going with me? I thought you didn’t want to go back to Mayfair.”

  His eyes slid open and he stared at her with arched eyebrows. “I’m not going to Mayfair. I’m going with you to The Spotted Goose. I’m going to negotiate with Orin Wattich and see if I can get you another tied property.”

  “Why?”

  “Why, what?”

  “Stop that!” She slammed her fist against her thigh.

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop making me repeat every question twice. Why are you so interested in helping Bradford Brewery?”

  “Because it’s in my best interest.”

  Maggie’s blood turned cold. “Nothing concerning Bradford Brewery is in your best interest. In fact, as soon as we get back I want you to pack your belongings and leave.”

  “Are you dismissing me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want you here.”

  That statement got his attention. He sat up in his seat and leaned forward.

  “Maggie, my love.” He reached over to cover her hands with his. “You need me. Bradford Brewery needs me.”

  Maggie shook her head but he stopped her movement by nestling her hands in his and holding them tight.

  “You do. Bradford Brewery needs to grow in order to survive and you can’t do that alone.”

  “I’m not alone,” she said but knew her words for a lie the minute she spoke them.

  “You are until your father returns. Do you know when that might be?”

  Maggie swallowed. Never. “Soon, I’m sure.”

  “Well, until he does, you’ll just have to accept my help. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to take a nap. I visited the Crowing Rooster last night and didn’t get home until a few hours ago.”

  Damn him! He drank all night and staggered in only hours ago, knowing he intended to leave with her to negotiate a very complicated purchase. This was exactly the same thing her father would have done.

  “Why on earth did you go to the Crowing Rooster? It’s more than an hour’s ride from Bradford.”

  Gray relaxed against the corner and propped his right ankle atop his opposite knee. With a heavy sigh he crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. For several minutes he didn’t say a word and Maggie thought he’d chosen to ignore her.

  Her irritation flared that he might be asleep.

  “The Crowing Rooster is going to be the next tied property we buy,” he said.

  Her heart flipped in her chest. She couldn’t find the air to breathe let alone speak.

  He was a bigger threat than her father ever thought of being. At least the brewery had been her father’s and he could spend its profits as he saw fit. Grayson Delaney was spending money he had no right to. She’d see him roast in hell before she’d let him cause her brewery to go bankrupt.

  Maggie opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind then closed it with a snap when the first soft snoring sound came from his corner of the carriage.

  He was asleep.

  Damn him!

  And he’d fallen asleep with a smile on his face.

  ****

  Gray woke up feeling much more rested than he had a right to. But feeling less tired didn’t mean he was less anxious. The pounding in his head was only partly due to the amount of ale he’d drunk with Rory McDermitt the night before while they negotiated the sale of the Crowing Rooster. The fact that he’d stepped into the carriage with only a few hour’s sleep is what allowed him to spend the last few hours napping. At least he didn’t have to think about where they were going.

  Bloody hell but he didn’t think he’d ever have to go near Mayfair again.

  He opened his eyes. It had been fifteen years since he’d traveled this road but it seemed like only yesterday.

  He looked out the window. “Bandishire is just ahead. We have to go through it to reach The Spotted Goose. It’s the nearest village to Mayfair.”

  Her eyes brightened with curiosity. “Which direction is your home from here?”

  “To the east. It’s just a few minutes’ ride from The Spotted Goose.”

  “Did you go to Bandishire often?”

  “When I was young. My mother would take my brother and me with her when she came. She’d stop at every shop in the village and buy something. It was never anything she needed but we returned to Mayfair each time with our carriage piled high with packages.” He smiled and suddenly wondered how he could recall something so pleasant when what had happened the last time he and his mother were here should have tarnished his memories of this place forever.

  “Do you still have some of the things she bought?”

  “No. She almost always gave them away when we went back to London.”

  “Then why did she buy them?”

  “She said the people of Bandishire relied on us to earn a living and we had an obligation to make sure they could provide for their families.”

  She looked back out the window. “Who makes sure they’re provided for now?”

  Gray ignored her question. He hadn’t given any thought to the people his mother had always been so concerned about. He couldn’t.

  “What kind of man is Mr. Wattich?”

  He was thankful she asked the question because that pulled his thought away.

  Gray leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He’d removed his gloves earlier and every sway of the carriage along the rough road caused the soft silky fringe on her cloak to brush over his outstretched hands. “He’s a decent enough fellow.” He shifted his fingers so the fringe cascaded over his flesh. “He’s most often the spokesman for the workers when they have a problem.”

  “Do you think he’ll be willing to sell?”

  “For the brewery’s sake, I hope so.” Gray let the fringe drop from his fingers. “Adding the King’s Crown to Bradford’s tied properties was a great advantage. The amount of ale they’ll require in a year’s time should allow you to recoup the money it took to buy the inn in five or six years’ time. But the amount the King’s Crown purchases will be nothing compared to what TheSpotted Goose will buy.”

  He almost smiled when her eyes opened wide. Almost.

  “How much do you think Mr. Wattich will ask for his inn?”

  Gray noticed the way she clutched her reticule to her middle and fought the heavy weight that plummeted to the pit of his stomach. “More than you have, Maggie, my love.”

  Her face paled. “Then why are you here? You could have let me fail on my own.”

  He relaxed back against the cushions and smiled. “I could have. But the thought of being confined with you in a cozy carriage for the greater part of a day was too tempting to let pass.”

  She gave him a murderous glare, then pulled her cloak tighter around her.

  “The weather’s turning colder,” he said noticing the heavy gray sky for the first time. “Would you like to come sit next to me to keep warm?”

  “I’d rather freeze, thank you.”

  “I must be losing my ch
arm. Most women are eager to let me keep them warm. But you’re not most women, are you?”

  “No. I’m not.”

  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.

  Chapter Fourteen

  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.”