More Than Willing (5 page)

“Of course. We are quite closely related.”

“Not that close,” he answered, setting his cup down on the table without drinking from it. “Our fathers were se
cond cousins and that makes us—”

“Still cousins
…Lyman.”

“But not so closely related that there cannot be a relationship between us.”

“I will be glad to consider you a friend.” She took a sip of her tea then balanced the saucer in her lap. “Even a good friend,” she added, keeping her posture as rigid and straight as she’d been taught. “But I’m afraid I’m not interested in allowing our friendship to develop into anything more.”

“But you must.”

Maggie lifted her eyebrows. “And why must I?”

“Your father will not be around forever. It is foolhardy to lock yourself away here in the country and attempt to run a brewery by yourself.”

“I have helped my father run the brewery for years.”

“I know you have
helped him. But you cannot expect to run it after your father is not here. You are a woman.”

Maggie took another sip of her tea to give her time to get control of her temper. “Ah, yes. There is that.”

“Of course there is. Even now everyone talks about how you assume more responsibility every day. They compare you to your mother.”

Maggie clasped her hands tighter in her lap. “Do you consider that such a travesty?”

“Oh, no. Not at all. Although I never met your mother, I know she was an admirable woman. Everyone says she was the epitome of kindness.”

“But her fault was…”

Maggie deliberately left her sentence unfinished, knowing that Cousin Lyman would complete it with the same complaint as her father had, the same accusation that Maggie had once overheard some of the local women make after church one Sunday when her mother was out of hearing.

“Why,” Lyman stuttered before sucking in his breath
as if to work up his nerve. “It was common knowledge your mother was more adept at running the brewery than your father.”

“And that was a sin?”

“Surely you’re jesting? Not a sin, exactly, but something a true lady would never consider.”

Maggie wanted to throw something at her cousin. She wanted to stand up to him and order him from her house. She wanted to rail at him for his ignorance and demand an apology on her mother’s behalf, but she didn’t. It would do no good. No one understood. Her mother was like a round peg trying to fit into a square hole. And Maggie felt the same.

“I see,” Maggie said, thoughtfully setting her cup and saucer on the table. She rose from her chair and walked to the window that looked out into the garden behind Bradford Manor. The flowers weren’t in bloom any longer but Maggie remembered how they’d looked at the height of summer, thanks to Felicity’s tender care. Her sister had a way with plants that Maggie envied. Even Charlotte had more patience with flowers and shrubs than she did. But neither of them had the slightest interest in running the brewery. The business was Maggie’s first love. It would be her only love.

“What are you suggesting I do, Cousin Lyman?”

She spun around to face her cousin. He’d walked around the tea table and closed the distance between them. He wasn’t dangerously close, but closer than she felt comfortable having him.

“I think that’s obvious, Margaret.”

He took another step toward her. Then another.

“You need someone to take you under their wing.”

“You don’t think I’m capable of managing myself?”

The shocked look on his face was almost comical. “Of course not. No woman is.”

“But you just admitted that everyone knew my mother was perfectly qualified to run Bradford Brewery.”

“That’s because your father didn’t take a firm hand with her from the start. He would have been wise to forbid her to usurp him.”

“Which you would do.”

“Oh, yes. I mean no disrespect, but it was common knowledge that your father did not have control over his wife.”

“Did it ever occur to you that my mother may have enjoyed helping my father run the brewery?”

Cousin Lyman laughed. “Surely you jest! No woman enjoys laboring over the tedious aspects of running a business. No woman can be expected to understand the day to day dealings of any operation, let alone one as complicated as a brewery. Or deal with the fiscal details as well as a man.”

Maggie smiled. “How astute you are. I must compliment you on your understanding of the fairer sex.”

“Thank you.
” His chest puffed out like a preening peacock. “I pride myself on being more protective of a woman’s proper place in the world than most men. Some of my gender are terribly lenient.”

“Like my father.” S
he struggled to keep the tone of her voice temperate.

“Yes. I’m glad we can agree on that point.” He took one more step closer to her. “Which brings me to the reason I’m here.”

“It does?” Maggie stepped away from the window. Having the wall to her back made her feel trapped.

“Yes.” Cousin Lyman clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “For more than six months now, you and your sisters have been living alone.”

“We’re hardly alone. Aunt Hester has been here the entire time.”

“That may be well and good as far as your sisters are concerned. They travel no farther than the village and church on a Sunday morning and your aunt always accompanies them. You, however, are another matter.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You spend countless days at the brewery in the company of strange and disreputable men.”

“Of all the—”

“I am well aware, of course, that with your father absent you are forced to endure such questionable company, but I have come with a solution that will free you from continuing as you have been.” Cousin Lyman faced her with the determination of an opposing army general. “Do you have any idea when your father intends to return?”

Maggie swallowed past the knot in her throat. “No, I’m afraid I don’t. In his last letter he mentioned he wanted to inspect a new brewery that was being constructed in Italy before he started for home. And even that doesn’t mean he will sail for England when he’s finished. He may hear of some other destination that takes his fancy.”

“Then I see no point in waiting. Your situation is desperate and as much as propriety demands I speak with your father first, that isn’t possible. So, I will simply have to forego proper procedures and speak to you first.”
Cousin Lyman cleared his throat. “Margaret, I’m sure you realize how vital it is for you to turn your back on the kind of life you are leading. I hesitate to mention your age because it is obvious that time is not on your side. Therefore, I’d like to offer you my heart and my name. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

She
tried not to look shocked but knew she failed. She didn’t know this man. He didn’t know her. How could he ask her to marry him? How could he expect her to accept?

She stared at him with what she knew must seem a very dim-witted expression, but no matter how hard she tried to search for the gentlest way to refuse, she realized that kindness would not serve her purpose. She needed to state her intentions clearly and concisely so when she finished, there wouldn’t be one glimmer of hope for Cousin Lyman to cling to that she would marry him.

“Why do you want to marry me?” she asked, her gaze focusing on his handsome features. Other than his eyes, which were the same pale gray as was passed down from one Bradford to the next, there was little resemblance to any of the portraits hanging in the gallery at Bradford Manor. Lyman Bradford was uncommonly pale when compared to the dark-haired, dark-complexioned Bradfords.

“Because I’m quite fond of you, Margaret.”

“You don’t know me well enough to measure your fondness for me, Mr. Bradford.”

“Perhaps not as well as I will in time, but I know I want you for my wife.”

“Me?” She lifted her eyebrows in the haughtiest arc she could manage. “Or my brewery?”

“How can you suggest such a thing? Do you really think I’d offer for your hand in marriage simply to acquire your father’s brewery?”

“History is riddled with betrothals inspired by far less than what the annual profits from Bradford Brewery will be one day.”

“Let me assure you.” H
e stepped so close to her, the intricate weave in his blended wool jacket blurred before her eyes. “Your father’s brewery is not the reason I’ve asked for your hand in marriage.”

He stepped even closer, forcing her to press her back against the wall. With a sense of panic, she realized she was trapped.

“Your father is still a young man and will probably live for many years yet. Even if the brewery goes to you when he passes, as is speculated, it will be years before I will realize any income from owning it.”

Maggie tried to step around him but he didn’t move.

“You are a beautiful woman, Margaret. An ideal choice for a wife.”

He lifted his hand and touched his fingers to her cheek.

She pushed his hand away. “My age doesn’t bother you?”

“Not really. It would be easier to mold a younger woman, it’s true.” He placed his hands on her shoulder
s. “But there are certain benefits to wedding an older bride. Benefits for you as well.”

Maggie twisted to the side, hoping she could break his hold but he only tightened his grip. “I see no benefits to marrying,” she said, twisting again. “Even you.”

“Don’t you?” He brushed his thumbs up and down the sides of her neck. “I am in line to inherit Bradford Manor after your father. Marriage to me will guarantee you will always have your family home.”

“You think I would marry to keep my home?”

He smiled. “No, you probably would not. But perhaps if you knew that by marrying me your sisters were always guaranteed of a home you might change your answer.”

Maggie couldn’t stop the tremor that raced through her. This was exactly why her sisters
had
to have a Season. She had to make sure both of them found husbands to love them and take care of them, and provide them with homes of their own. She would be content living in one of the worker’s cottages between the brewery and the village, and Aunt Hester had her own home to go back to, but her sisters needed lives of their own.

“Release me, Mr. Bradford,” she said, thankful her voice sounded strong. “I will not marry to keep Bradford Manor. I’ve known for years that it would never be mine.”

“But it can be.”

“No.”

She twisted to get away from him again. Instead of tightening his hold on her, he pulled her toward him. Before she could stop him, he pressed her close to him, her thighs touching his, her belly pressed against his. He wrapped his arms around her, crushing her breasts to his chest. Maggie struggled but he didn’t release her.

“You need someone to take you in hand, Margaret. I think that is what you’ve secretly yearned to have for years.”

She struggled harder and lifted her chin to demand he release her but her breath lodged in her throat. He intended to kiss her. She realized she’d never wanted to avoid something so desperately in her whole life.

“No. Don’t.
” She struggled to turn her face away from him, but he clamped his fingers on either side of her jaw and brought her face back.

T
otally out of her element, she battled a feeling of helplessness she’d never experienced before. She’d never had to fight off an unwelcome suitor, never allowed anyone to get this close to her. She’d worn a cloak of aloofness her whole life, keeping every man she’d ever met at arm’s length.

Panic erupted inside her, then built with such intensity she feared she might become ill. Her heart thundered and every muscle in her body quivered. She hated this helpless feeling.

“I’ve dreamed of this since the first time I saw you.” He lowered his head.

“No!
”

She felt the warm air from his breath on her face and struggled harder.

He smiled, then brought his lips close to hers.

“No!
” she cried out again but her pleas seemed useless. She closed her eyes and braced herself for his kiss.

“I believe I heard the lady say no,” a deep voice said from the other side of the room.

Lyman pushed her away with a jerk and spun to face their intruder. “Who are you?”

She turned to see who had come to her rescue
. Grayson Delaney stood in the doorway. She should feel an even greater fear. Instead, she filled with an immense sense of relief.

Her gaze locked with his, the deep blue of his eyes even darker as he assessed her.

She tried to portray a calmness she didn’t feel and a frown appeared on his forehead that indicated that she’d failed.

“Are you all right?”

Maggie opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. All she managed was a nod of her head.

His jaw clenched and a muscle on either side of his face knotted. The fury
she saw in his glare caused her to fear for Lyman’s safety and she tried to smile in an effort to calm the situation. She wasn’t sure if it worked of not, but he didn’t make any move to close the distance between them. He extended his arm as if he expected her to come to him.