Authors: Laura Landon
Men raced back and forth from the nearest well with buckets of water but it was obvious they were fighting a losing battle. They seemed to realize it too because before long they stopped and stared at the flames shooting high in the air.
“Whose cottage is on fire?” she asked the first group of women she met.
She asked even though she already knew. She’d been to Gray’s cabin before, the day she’d come to care for him when he’d been injured. It was in his cottage that she discovered how much she really cared for him. But she couldn’t reveal that to anyone. Especially now.
“That’s where Mr. Delaney lives,” Roddy Mulgrim’s wife said, shifting her toddler from one hip to the other. “He must have gotten out thoug
h ’cause that’s him standing by Mr. Murdock.”
“His guardian angel was watching over him real close,” Sally Briggs said, pulling the light coat she wore tighter around her shoulders. “I don’t know how anyone could have survive
d a fire like that.”
An icy shiver
heated Maggie’s spine. No one was supposed to have survived the fire. That had been the objective. Someone still wanted Gray dead. And if he’d been asleep in bed like whoever started the fire thought he was, he would be.
“Look, Mama,” Roddy Mulgim’s five-year-old said. “Nobody’s putting any more water on the fire. Now the house is gonna burn for sure.”
“I know, sweetheart. They can’t save it.”
Someone wanted Gray dead
, and if he’d been lying in his bed instead of her arms, he would be.
Maggie kept her eyes focused on Gray and the men surrounding him. One of them could have been the person who’d tried to kill him. But why would any of them want Gray dead? There was no reason. Only one person would benefit if Gray were dead – her cousin. And she was the reason he’d resorted to murder.
The flames were almost out now and most of the people had returned to their own cottages to get out of the cold. But Gray stood close to the charred timbers in a battle-ready stance, with his legs braced wide and his arms stiff at his sides as he watched what was left of his home sift to ashes. Then, in a movement similar to an attack of fury, he spun around and headed for the stable.
“Gray,” she called,
hurrying toward him. “Don’t. Wait until—”
He stopped her words with a slash of his hand and covered the ground to the stable in long, angry strides. Maggie had to run to catch up.
“Wait, Gray. Let me go with you.”
He didn’t answer but threw a saddle on one of the horses and led him outside.
“Gray, don’t.”
“Go home, Maggie! Now!”
“Gray—”
He ignored her plea and swung up on the horse and galloped out
of the brewery yard.
Maggie watched him go, knowing that when he came back nothing would be as it had been before.
Maggie sat on the bench beside her mother’s final resting place and looked at the beautiful marble cross her father had put at the head of his wife’s grave. To the right of the perfectly manicured plot was a small patch of uneven ground that indicated the spot where she and Aunt Hester had buried her father.
“It won’t be long before you have a marker too, Papa,” she whispered as tears swam in her eyes. “Or before the girls and I can mourn your passing as we ought. As soon as Felicity and Lottie are safely wed, everything will be as it should.”
Except she knew nothing would ever be as it should. Not if Gray killed Lyman.
She buried her face in her hands then wiped away the tears that spilled over her lashes. Now she knew what her mother meant when she said she couldn’t live without the man she’d married. Maggie knew she couldn’t live without Gray either.
What if Gray killed Lyman?
Every possibility raced through her mind. They’d have to leave. Run away where no one would ever find them. Someplace where he would be safe.
She thought of how she’d pushed him away. He’d told her that he wanted to marry her; that the brewery had nothing to do with the reason he wanted to spend his life with her, but she’d refused to believe him. He was Grayson Delaney, one of London’s most notorious rakes. He was a man so closely resembling her father they could have been one and the same. And yet…
He wasn’t at all like her father. For months he’d worked in the brewery alongside the other laborers, putting in the same long hours, working at the same difficult tasks, never once using to his advantage the fact that he was the Earl of Camden’s son.
He’d never said he loved her but that didn’t matter. Just like her mother, nothing mattered as long as she could spend the rest of her life with him.
She tilted her chin upward and let the mid-morning sun shine on her cold face.
“You’re going to freeze to death if you stay out here much longer.”
Maggie jumped up with a small cry of relief, then raced to Gray and threw herself in his arms. “Are you all right? Is he dead? Are you hurt?”
“Shh, Maggie,
my love.”
“We’ll leave before anyone knows what happened. We can go to New York or Boston or—
”
“Maggie, no.”
“Yes.” She cupped her palms to his cheeks to emphasize her determination. “Somehow we’ll get the money to start a brewery. I know everything there is to know about running one. I’ll take care of everything. You’ll see, Gray. We’ll—”
“Maggie.” He grasped her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “I didn’t kill him.”
She let his words register. “You didn’t?”
“No. Lyman wasn’t there. He’s in London. He left more than a week ago.”
“A week ago? But the fire—”
“He didn’t start the fire. Someone else started it.”
“But who? Why?”
“I don’t know.”
She stepped back and looked at him. “There is no one else. No one else could possibly want you dead.”
“Someone does. Enough to have tried to kill me twice.”
“But why!”
A twig snapped in the grass behind them and they spun around. Henry Tibbles stood a few feet away.
“Henry? Is something wrong at the brewery?”
Henry shook his head. “The brewery’s fine. I need you to step over here, Miss Bradford.”
“Why, Henry? I thought you said—”
“Now!”
Henry lifted his hand and pointed a gun at Gray’s chest.
“Do as he says, Maggie.” Gray grasped her upper arm and attempted to push her away.
“Move, Margaret. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Maggie refused to step away. “
What is the matter? Why do you need a gun?”
Henry shook his head. “This is for your own good. I’m saving you from making the same mistake your mother made.”
“Move, Maggie.”
Gray’s voice held a firmness she wasn’t used to hearing. She looked at the scowl on
his face then turned away. “I’m not making a mistake.”
“You already have,”
Henry said. The look of sadness and regret in his eyes was visible for the world to see. “I knew it the moment you set eyes on him. You had that same look your mother wore when she looked at your father.”
“Maggie. Move, dammit!” Gray tried to separate himself from her as if distancing himself could protect her. She wouldn’t let him, but angled herself between the two men.
“She was never happy, you know,” Henry said. His tone contained a dark anger.
“Yes, she was, Henry. She told me how happy she was with Father.”
“No! She was miserable. And you’ll be miserable, too.”
The expression on Henry’s face turned darker and Gray lifted his hand to draw Henry’s attention. “Don’t do anything while Maggie’s here, Henry. Make her leave first.”
“I’d never do anything to harm one of Genevieve’s daughters. Or the brewery.”
“Then why did you start a fire in the stable?” Gray said. “And try to ruin the wort?”
Henry gave a snort of disgust. “That wasn’t me. That was Miss Bradford’s cousin. He thought if he caused enough accidents, she would realize how much she needed a man to help her. The fool!” Henry’s eyes shifted to her. “If he knew you better, he’d realize you didn’t need a man to help you run the brewery. Your mother gave you all the instruction you needed.”
“What did you say to make him leave in such a hurry?” Gray asked. “His housekeeper said on the day he left he had a visitor in the morning and before noon he was on his way to London.”
Henry laughed. “I simply told him if he wanted to live long enough to inherit Baron Bradley’s title it would be wise to leave for London as soon as possible.”
“You threatened him?” Maggie couldn’t believe how complicated her life had become.
“I didn’t have a choice. He would have continued to create trouble until someone got hurt. I was afraid that might be you.”
The hand that held the gun lowered slightly and she felt a rush of hope that Henry would put the gun away.
“You’ve always been my favorite, Margaret.” He paused. “Of course I love all of Genevieve’s daughters, but you were always special. I think because you’re the most like your mother.”
“I know you were fond of Mother, but—”
“Fond? I wasn’t fond of your mother. I loved her. I fell in love with her the moment I set eyes on her. She was the most perfect woman in the world. If it hadn’t been for her, your father would have lost everything years ago. That’s why after your mother died I came up with a plan to protect you and your sisters.”
“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.”