More Than Willing

by Laura Landon

  “Protect us? How?”

  “By keeping back a certain amount of the profits from every brewing season.”

  “You took the brewery’s money?”

  “No. I safeguarded your money and put it where your father couldn’t find it. Now I have to make sure Delaney can’t get his hands on it either.” Henry’s gun hand lifted.

  “No!” Maggie held out her arms.

  Gray stepped toward her and clasped his hands on her upper arms. He tried to push her away but she somehow held her ground against his strength.

  “You’re only prolonging the inevitable, Margaret. I’m doing this to spare you from a life as miserable as your mother’s.”

  “Mother’s life wasn’t miserable. You were the one who must have been miserable, working day by day with someone you loved as you say you loved my mother, then watching her go home each night with another man.”

  Her words took him aback. “Yes, I was miserable. But I vowed on your mother’s grave I would never let one of her girls repeat her mistake. So leave, Margaret. Go back to the house.”

  “Go, Maggie!”

  She looked at Gray and shook her head, then spun around to face Henry. “If you kill Gray, you’ll have to kill me, too.”

  Henry looked at her with a dumbstruck expression on his face. “You can’t mean that.”

  “I do. I love him. I won’t live my life without him. I can’t.”

  “He’ll ruin you! You don’t know how much harm he’s already done.”

  “I don’t care. I love him!”

  Henry shook his head as if in disbelief, and his shoulders sagged in defeat. “You weren’t supposed to find your father, you know.”

  The air rushed from her lungs. How did Henry know about her father?

  “I thought one of the workers would find him when they came to work in the morning. Instead, you found him.”

  “Henry, don’t.” She looked at Gray, praying he didn’t understand what Henry meant.

  A frown deepened on Gray’s forehead. “What’s Henry talking about, Maggie?”

  She shook her head.

  “If only you would have run for help,” Henry continued. “I was waiting to sound the alarm. Instead, you—”

  “Don’t, Henry. Please.”

  She couldn’t let Henry divulge her secret. Felicity and Charlotte weren’t betrothed yet. They’d be forced into a year of mourning if anyone found out, and their chances for a good marriage would be gone. Even Bradford Manor would be gone. Cousin Lyman would inherit that and the title, and all they’d have left was the brewery.

  Neither of her sisters would be content here—even for a year. And when they returned to London, it wouldn’t matter that they were the daughters of the late Baron Bradley. They’d be known as sisters of the woman who ran a brewery.

  She looked into Henry’s face again and shook her head. “Please,” she pleaded. “Don’t.”

  Henry swiped his jacket sleeve across his glistening brow. “Oh, such a web of secrets and lies we’ve woven.” He waved the gun with a shaky hand and smiled a malicious grin in Gray’s direction. “When were you going to reveal your secret, Delaney?”

  “I have nothing to reveal.”

  Gray’s answer was solid and straight-forward, but there was something in how readily he fired the words that gave her pause.

  “Oh, but you do. Something I’m sure Margaret would be interested in hearing.”

  Maggie lifted her gaze. Gray’s eyes locked with hers but he didn’t speak. Nor did he give any indication that he’d heard Henry’s last accusation.

  “What are you waiting for?” Henry demanded. “For Margaret to agree to marry you? Or do you intend to get her with child first so she won’t have a choice?”

  “You bastard.”

  Gray took a step forward and Henry slashed the gun in front of him.

  Maggie stifled a small scream. Henry had already crossed the line of instability.

  “You think once you marry her you can leave the brewery in her care while you run to London, the same as her father did?”

  “Enough!”

  Gray moved to take another threatening step forward but she reached out to stop him.

  “Or are you waiting for Baron Bradley to return to hand over his daughter if you offer him a price that is high enough?” He turned his gaze. “Tell him why that won’t happen, Margaret.”

  “Henry, don’t.”

  Raw fury raged in Henry’s eyes. He’d lost control of his sanity. His garbled words rushed from his mouth, and the volume of his accusations bellowed louder. His actions frightened her even more than before.

  “It won’t happen because Baron Bradley won’t be returning. Ever. He’s dead. And buried in the ground beside my Genevieve.”

  Henry’s accusing finger pointed to the patch of uneven dirt beside her mother. Maggie couldn’t stop the cry that escaped her.

  Gray lowered his gaze to where Henry pointed. The frown on his face deepened.

  “I was with him when he died, you know. I even had a hand in his death, God forgive me.”

  Maggie stood without moving, a part of her wanting to hear how her father died. Another part of her didn’t want to ever know.

  “He came home from London, more drunk than I’d ever seen him. He demanded money. Lots of money. When I told him he’d already taken all that we had, he became furious.

  “He searched my office first, then ran upstairs to your office. When he realized there wasn’t any money to be found he went crazy. He was more desperate than I’d ever seen him. He came at me with his walking stick and I pushed him away. I don’t remember pushing him hard enough to cause him to fall, but I must have.

  “We were on the balcony and he tried to catch himself on the railing, but he was so drunk…” Henry shook his head as if to clear it. “Your father fell over the railing and to the ground below. But you weren’t supposed to find him, Margaret. And you weren’t supposed to bury him.”

  Maggie shivered at the demented expression on Henry’s face.

  “That’s why Delaney has to die, Margaret. I promised on your mother’s grave that I would always protect you and I will.”

  “No, Henry.”

  “I have to. You’ll lose the brewery if I don’t.”

  “I won’t lose the brewery, Henry. The brewery’s safe.”

  “No, it’s not. Is it Delaney?”

  Maggie prayed Gray would say something to reassure Henry, but he remained ominously silent. “Gray?”

  “See, Margaret,” Henry said. “Delaney knows he has to die. He knows I can’t let him take the brewery away from you.”

  His voice contained more remorse than she’d ever heard from him.

  Before she could ask Henry what he meant, he turned to Gray and lifted his gun.

  “Henry! Don’t!”

  Henry hesitated a moment and his slight pause gave Gray the time he needed to react.

  He lunged forward and pushed her with a force that stunned her. She lay motionless for several agonizing seconds, trying to gather her thoughts.

  The grunts and groans above her sounded desperate and she struggled to her hands and knees.

  A slashing jolt of panic slammed inside her. “Gray!”

  She scrambled to her feet and took a frantic step toward him, then stopped. Her interference would only cause him harm.

  Terror raged through her as she watched the two men battle each other.

  Gray tried to knock the gun from Henry’s hand but Henry had too tight a grip. The gun didn’t come loose, but Gray’s blow knocked Henry off balance.

  Gray made use of his advantage and lunged toward Henry. The two struggled more ferociously, and suddenly a muffled pop rent the air.

  The ground shifted beneath her. She was living her worst nightmare.

  Gray and Henry stood with one arm locked around the other and the gun pressed between their bodies. Neither moved, as if they needed the other’s support to stand upright.

  “Gra
y!”

  Her heart thundered against her ears as she waited for some indication as to who’d been shot.

  She didn’t know what she’d do if she lost Gray now; how she’d survive without him. She wasn’t sure she could.

  In what seemed slow motion, Gray and Henry sank to their knees, their arms still locked around the other, unreadable expressions on their faces. Slowly they separated.

  Dark stains colored the front of Gray’s shirt.

  A scream rose from deep within her and she clutched her hand over her mouth to stop the terror from filling the air. Tears blurred her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.

  “Gray?” she whispered as another stabbing of terror shot through her.

  Gray lowered Henry to the ground, then looked up. “I’m all right, Maggie.”

  She raced to his side and sank down beside him. She needed to touch him, to connect her flesh with his to make sure he was truly all right.

  She placed her hand on his arm as he opened Henry’s jacket and shirt to check the severity of his wound. One glance at the blood that poured from the gaping hole in Henry’s chest told her he didn’t have long to live.

  “This wasn’t…how I’d…planned it to happen,” Henry said through his gasps for air. “If only I’d found out who he was…sooner.”

  Maggie leaned closer. “It wouldn’t have made any difference, Henry.”

  Henry closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and stared at her with an expression she’d never forget.

  “The brewery’s not yours…Margaret. Your father…lost it in a…card game.”

  “Not mine?”

  “It’s Delaney’s…” Henry gasped. “That’s why he has…to marry…you.”

  Maggie opened her mouth to speak but no words came. She darted a frantic look toward Gray and prayed that he’d tell her Henry was lying. But the look on his face confirmed Henry’s words.

  She lowered her gaze. Henry’s inert body swam before her. He breathed more labored now as death came to claim him.

  “There’s nothing…more I can do…to save you. You’re doomed…to repeat your mother’s…life of…misery.”

  Henry gasped a last breath and sightlessly stared into eternity.

  His words echoed in her head. A painful weight pressed against her chest until she feared she wouldn’t survive.

  She didn’t own the brewery.

  Her father had lost it in a card game.

  Unless she agreed to marry Gray, she was without the means to support herself.

  Her blood roared against her ears. She took a gasp of air and prayed she’d continue to breathe.

  Gray was exactly like her father. All along he’d intended to marry her so she could run the brewery while he spent the Seasons in London?

  She swiped at an errant tear that dared to slide down her cheek. At least her father had loved her mother. That was more than she could claim. Gray didn’t love her. If he did, he would have told her so before now. But he hadn’t.

  Oh, he’d called her Maggie, my love. Like her father had often called her his “pet.” He hadn’t meant anything by it. Just as Gray didn’t mean anything special either. It was a term – Maggie, my love. Maggie, my pet. My useful pet.

  She prayed he wouldn’t say he loved her now. If he did, his words would be a lie.

  For several long, agonizing moments neither of them spoke. She knew in time they’d have to. But she prayed he wouldn’t speak just now. She wasn’t ready for the mellow silkiness of his voice to wash over her.

  Or the reminder of how deeply she loved him and how easily he’d betrayed her.

  He didn’t give her as much time as she’d hoped but softly whispered her name.

  “Maggie, I—”

  His voice pelted her like stinging shards of frozen ice and she lifted her hand to stop his words. She couldn’t hear them yet; couldn’t look at him. He’d always been the most handsome man she’d ever seen and just the sight of him weakened her. She wanted to remember him that way and not through eyes that were clouded with hurt and bitterness…and disappointment.

  It took a long while before she could speak. “I only have one question.” She clenched her hands as her heart shattered inside her breast. “If I ask it, will you promise me a truthful answer? Just this once?”

  He paused, then said, “Yes, if you’ll allow me to say something after that and promise you’ll listen to me.”

  She blinked several times to keep the wetness that filled her eyes from spilling down her cheeks. “If I must.”

  “Then ask me your question.”

  “Did you ever intend to tell me I no longer owned the brewery?”

  He hesitated a moment before he spoke.

  “No.” His response caused her breaking heart to splinter into a million pieces.

  She rose and on legs that didn’t want to carry her, she forced herself to take that first step away from him.

  “Maggie, don’t leave me.”

  She kept walking.

  “You said you’d allow me to say something,” he said from close behind her.

  She shook her head and kept walking.

  “I love you, Maggie!”

  “Do you?”

  And she walked away from him.

  Chapter Twenty

  Maggie sat against the wall of the Marchioness of Cavanaugh’s ballroom with her practiced smile firmly in place and a faux look of contentment on her face. This was the pose she’d perfected during the last month, and to anyone watching her she seemed the happiest of women.

  She wondered how long it would be before her heart no longer felt as if it were breaking.

  She didn’t know what hurt worse, knowing after all the warnings she’d issued herself, she’d made the same mistake as her mother.

  Or that the man to whom she’d given her heart could have deceived her so.

  Or that it wasn’t until he realized that she was going to leave him that he said the words she’d yearned to hear since she’d given him her body. Only when she walked away from him that last time did he tell her he loved her, as if that magic phrase would bring her back to him.

  But she knew his words had been a lie.

  If he’d loved her, he wouldn’t have let her risk the money she’d saved to guarantee her sisters’ futures by buying more tied properties. He would have been honest with her when she’d asked why the Earl of Camden’s son had come to work in her brewery. And he would have told her he loved her before it was too late.

  How could she have been so foolish?

  When would the hurt go away?

  Maggie clasped her hands tighter in her lap and stared out onto the dance floor.

  “They make a handsome couple, don’t they?” Aunt Hester said with a sigh of satisfaction.

  Maggie remembered to smile as she watched the Earl of Landsdowne twirl Felicity in his arms. The dance was a waltz and her sister and her fiancé executed it beautifully.

  More than one marrying-mama had told Maggie how envious they were of Felicity’s perfect match and some even referred to the romance as a whirlwind affair. But there wasn’t a doubt in Maggie’s mind that the two of them were madly in love with each other. The air sparked with emotion every time they were together. And it hadn’t been such a whirlwind. It had been nearly a month already. There was nothing short-lived about that.

  Every day had seemed an eternity.

  Maggie watched Felicity for another minute, then searched Lady Cavanaugh’s ballroom to find Charlotte. She was quite positive she wouldn’t find her on the dance floor. She seldom danced when she attended any function. But she was never alone either. For nearly as long as Felicity and the Earl of Landsdowne had been an item, Charlotte’s name had been linked to Viscount Markinsdale’s.

  Maggie had always prayed Charlotte would find someone who shared her same passions, but she never imagined she would find someone so perfect. Maggie couldn’t have picked a more perfect match if she’d chosen Markinsdale herself.

  Charlott
e’s friendship with Viscount Markinsdale wasn’t nearly as explosive as Felicity’s, but Maggie was confident that before long Markinsdale would ask for her hand. The other afternoon when he’d come to call, she’d overheard them making a list of all the places in the world they wanted to see—together.

  Once both her sisters were officially engaged the farce she was living would be at an end and she could go…

  …where?

  Maggie’s breath caught and she pulled her thoughts back to the present. She refused to think of anything but now. Her vow every morning upon rising was to get through the day with the shield around her heart firmly in place. And the smile fixed on her face.

  Her prayer every night before she went to bed was that she would fall asleep just one night without dreaming of his arms holding her, and his face looking down on her, and his lips pressed against hers.

  Then, at least a hundred times a day, she had to stop to say a frantic prayer for help to make it through just one more minute without her heart breaking.

  It had been a month since she’d left him. The brewing season should have come to an end by now. The ale they’d produced before she left should be ready to be shipped out.

  Then there’d be a day-long festivity to celebrate the end of a successful brewing season. The brewers’ wives would fix enough food to feed a small army and the brewery would provide an endless supply of ale. Music would play until the wee hours and the workers would dance and sing all night long. Then, when the food and ale was gone, everyone would go home with a smile on their face and a bonus in their pockets. For Maggie, the night was always magical.

  She wondered if there’d been a celebration this year. She doubted she’d ever know. Other than some estate papers that needed her attention, she hadn’t had any correspondence with him. But she hadn’t expected to. His goal had been for her to fall in love with him so he’d be free to come back to London to live the life he loved. Once she discovered he already owned the brewery he knew he’d failed. He knew she would never marry him.

  Maggie fought the sense of betrayal she experience every time she thought how foolish she’d been. Gray had never loved her. He’d only wanted her. His intent had been to use her.