Mary: To Protect Her Heart (Other Pens, Mansfield Park Book 3)

by Leenie Brown

  “Please,” he said softly. “I shall not let you take on water, Miss Crawford.”

  Mary sucked in a breath and expelled it. How could she do anything other than grant him his wish when he was so gallantly offering his protection while looking at her with that intense, caring expression that caused her to shiver. “Very well. I shall do my penance.”

  Her agreement settled the matter, and it was decided that soon, perhaps in a day or two, they would all attend a play.

  Chapter 7

  Mary looked up toward the top of the warehouse as she climbed out of the carriage. The expression of awe she wore made Gabe smile.

  “I have never been so close to the ships and buildings,” she said as she took his hand so that he could help her from the carriage. “I have seen them in paintings and heard tell of gunboats, but I never imagined them to be so very large.”

  “They do not appear very big in paintings,” Gabe agreed. “We will go through this door.” He motioned to a door at the far end of the building and then extended an arm to both Miss Crawford and Mrs. Grant. “This door is not used by the dockhands. Just merchants and fellow owners such as myself. The whole building is not mine. There is a group of us, just as there is when we sponsor a privateer.”

  “Many hands make light work,” Margaret said cheerily.

  Gabe chuckled. Many hands also insured that one’s money did not have to be placed all in one venture and, therefore, kept the risk to himself at a manageable level.

  He held the door open for Mary and her sister to enter ahead of him. The familiar smell of dust, wood, and men greeted him. He watched as Mary’s nose crinkled at the first assault of the odor. It twitched adorably, but then, she smiled. She did not reach for her handkerchief to cover her nose as her sister did. She was made of less delicate things than some women. He liked that.

  “The atmosphere takes a bit of getting used to.” She leaned into his arm so that he could hear her over the noises of cargo being shifted, sorted, and stored. “I do not like rats,” she added a little softer and with a sheepish grin.

  “They are not a favourite of mine either,” he replied. “Although, one must expect to deal with a few when in a warehouse or on a ship. It is just the nature of the work.”

  He led them up a set of stairs that went up to the second floor where his office was part of a row of rooms. Each belonged to one of his associates, and at the end of the row, there was a meeting room. That was where they gathered to argue about their next venture.

  “This is where I spend a good deal of my time.” He placed his hat on a hook.

  “You can see everything from here.” Mary stood at the window that faced the interior of the warehouse.

  “And it is quieter,” Margaret added. “I cannot imagine being able to do any proper thinking in that din out there.”

  Gabe chuckled. “It becomes familiar.”

  “What is in those casks?” Mary asked.

  Some men were rolling a large barrel down the center of the warehouse.

  “Rum,” Gabe replied. “And that cart has spices. They are stored on the second floor. That hoist will see them to their place. And that crate is being lowered to a waiting wagon for some merchant. It is likely filled with a variety of items.”

  “It is all the world in one building.”

  “Very nearly.” Gabe could not help but smile at Mary’s wonder at all she was seeing. “Do you prefer the boats or the warehouse?” He turned toward his desk.

  “I cannot say,” Mary replied. “They are both of great interest. However, if I had to choose one…”

  She had turned to look at him and was leaning against the window frame. Her lips pursed as she thought. He had never looked out toward the warehouse from his desk and seen such a lovely site as she made.

  “I would choose the warehouse.”

  “What reasons do you have for your choice?”

  She smiled. “That desk suits you.”

  “How so?”

  She shrugged and crossed to stand in front of him with the well-suited desk between them. Her finger ran lightly over the surface, causing Gabe to swallow as he watched it. It was such a light, craveable touch.

  “It is a trifle imposing, unlikely to be carted off by less than three strong men, and I dare say you could place one of those large casks on the top of it and the floor would give way before this desk crumbled.” She looked up at him and smiled. “In other words, it seems rather trustworthy and honorable, much like the man standing behind it.”

  Gabe stood for a full minute with not a thing to say. He could not remember the last time he had been rendered speechless by anyone. While he may not have been able to speak, his mouth had no trouble smiling in what felt like a foolish fashion.

  It was not as if he had never been praised before. He had. Many times. Some of those times had even been by a lady. However, there was something about hearing her, a lady who had very little reason to trust any man, calling him trustworthy and honorable that superseded any other moment of praise.

  “I am flattered,” he managed to say at last.

  Her smile grew. “I like that about you.”

  “What precisely do you like?” She was causing his ability to reason to falter.

  “You answer me honestly. Many men would have replied to such a description with some witty rejoinder or told me that a desk would most certainly not hold strong when a floor, which is built as solidly as this one is, would collapse. You have not once today spoken to me as a silly female.”

  “Because you are not.” He was beginning to wish the sturdy desk would drop through the floor instead of standing between him and her — and it could take her sister with it. He would like nothing better than to be alone with her in this room right now.

  “I would pick this warehouse because it is here and always will be,” she said returning to the original topic of discussion. “It will not shift and float away on a current.” She drew and released a breath. “And while it does have its rats and dust and aromas, it is tidy and well-organized. I like that.” Her eyes sparkled. “And it does not creak like a boat does as it bobs up and down beside the quay.”

  He wondered if she was only speaking of his warehouse or if she were once again speaking of what she found appealing in a man. He could well imagine she would prefer a gentleman to be steady and unchanging. The admiral had been more like the ships he commanded – always prowling, looking for his next conquest.

  “Durward.” The door to his office swung open and one of his partners, Mr. Radcliff walked in. “I was on my way to my office and saw that we have visitors.”

  Radcliff was always curious to meet anyone new who entered the building. Some would call him friendly, but to Gabe, there was something about the way in which he did it that smacked more of a busybody.

  “Allow me to introduce you to Miss Crawford and her sister Mrs. Grant.”

  “Ladies,” Radcliff made a sweeping bow.

  “This is Mr. Radcliff,” Gabe continued. “He is a recent addition to our group.”

  “How recent?” Margaret asked.

  “What has it been now? Six months?” Gabe asked Radcliff.

  “Seven, Friday next,” Radcliff replied. “I hear there is a meeting tomorrow. Is that correct?”

  Gabe nodded. “There is a letter of marque to be discussed.”

  Radcliffe turned toward Mary and Margaret. “I hope you have not found your visit with us too taxing or tiresome.”

  “Oh, quite the contrary!” Margaret replied with some force. “This place is very stimulating. Is it not, Mary?”

  “Excessively,” Mary agreed. “I have never seen anything like this, so to me, it is fascinating.”

  “Well, Durward, I commend you on finding friends…” There was a lift to the word that made it more of a question than a statement. “…who are interested in what we do.”

  “Very fortunate,” Gabe replied with a smile for Mary. He would let Radcliff wonder a bit longer about their relations
hip. He sat in his chair and unlocked the door on the right side of his desk. There was a ledger that he wished to take home. He had noticed a few numbers seemed to be off in the book in which he had been working last night, and he wanted to clarify any errors before tomorrow’s meeting.

  “My cousin…” Again, there was that questioning lift. This time it was accompanied by a questioning look at Gabe. “…is unwilling to even drive past the docks. This is why I think it is so unusual to meet two ladies who are not only willing to drive past but also stop and enter a warehouse.”

  “These things are not for every lady,” Margaret assured him. “But I must admit to being a very curious sort of person, and when Mr. Durward suggested a tour, I could not resist. Mary is quite the same. Very curious.”

  Gabe frowned at the contents of his desk. He was certain he had placed the small black receipt book on top of the brown ledger and not the other way around as they were now. He shook his head. Perhaps he had not. It was not as if books could rearrange themselves. He took both books from the cupboard and put them on his desk. It would not hurt to give both books a thorough going over. In fact, the receipt book might prove handy in checking some of the figures in the other ledgers.

  “Did you wish to stay longer to watch the workers?” he asked Mary.

  She shook her head. “If you have what you need, I am content to leave.”

  He tucked the books into a leather satchel and took his hat from the wall.

  “It has been lovely to meet you,” Mary said to Radcliff before accepting Gabe’s proffered arm.

  “Likewise, likewise,” Radcliff replied as he held the door open for them, his eyes were still filled with curiosity.

  Gabe waited for Radcliff to move away from the door so that he could lock it. Then, he once again offered his arm to Mary and gave a nod of farewell to Radcliff. “There might be time for a short drive before I return you home if you are willing to spend a few more minutes with me.”

  “I am in no hurry to go home,” Mary replied. “I do not know when I have enjoyed myself so much as today. I am certain none of my other suitors ever took me anywhere as interesting as this.”

  “It is because it is novel,” Gabe returned. “I am certain that the first time you visited the museum, it was much more interesting than this warehouse and a few ships.”

  The laugh that answered such a comment was a sound Gabe would like to hear often.

  “Again, you have answered me plainly instead of attempting to inflate the status of your business. However, there was one thing that the museum lacks compared to here.”

  “And what is that?” he asked as they descended the stairs.

  “People,” she replied.

  “There are always people at the museum,” he countered.

  “But they are not part of the exhibit as it were,” she argued. “Today, I have gotten a glimpse, small as it might be, of another way of life. However, if you should like, you may take me to the museum, and then, I shall be able to tell you for certain which I find most interesting. For,” she looked away, and a faint blush crept up her cheeks, “it might just be the company I am keeping which makes this warehouse so delightful.”

  “I am flattered,” he replied quietly. “I must say that I have not found my warehouse as inviting as it was today while you and Mrs. Grant were here.” He held her gaze for a moment before opening the door, so they could exit. She did not look away but met his eyes and smiled, and he noted there was barely a trace of wariness in her expression. And that, more than the pleasure she expressed in seeing his business or the flattering words she had bestowed upon him, buoyed his heart, for if she could trust him, she might just come to love him. His lips curled into a lopsided grin as he handed her into the carriage. His mother was right, it took very little for one’s heart to decide its course.

  Chapter 8

  “You look lovely,” Gabe whispered as he and Mary approached the theatre’s entrance. “All will be well.”

  He had been telling her that for the past two days – ever since Henry’s invitation to join him at the theatre had arrived during one of Gabe’s daily calls on Mary. The calls were not all made during regular calling hours. Gabe’s schedule did not always afford such luxuries, but Mary was happy to see him at any time of the day. Today, she had not seen him until now, and she had missed having him sit in the chair near the hearth, telling her about his day and inquiring after hers.

  “Did you get the lace you needed?” he asked as they entered the building.

  “No, Margaret and I were otherwise occupied today with a bit of knitting that the cat unravelled. We will get it tomorrow.”

  “I will be unable to call tomorrow. There is still a matter to argue about concerning the new letter of marque, and then I am engaged with another matter after that.” He pulled her closer to his side as they reached the top of the stairs leading to the saloon where the private boxes were. “I will miss you.”

  Mary could not help smiling and blushing at his words. He knew her for all her faults, and yet, he liked her. He did not want anything from her in return – no connections, no introductions, no forced flirting or smiles. In fact, she was quite certain if she attempted a false smile, he would frown.

  “I will miss you as well,” she admitted so quietly that he had to tip his head towards her to hear it. She was finding herself very attached to him. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep the wall around her heart neatly intact.

  “Here we are.” He allowed her to enter the box ahead of him. “Mr. Crawford,” he said with a smart nod of his head.

  Henry returned the greeting and immediately set about making introductions. It was a small gathering of Henry’s intended, Constance Linton; his friend, Charles Edwards; and Charles’s fiancé, Evelyn Barrett.

  “My brother could not be bothered to join us,” Constance said as she settled into a chair. “And my aunt is keeping Mrs. Barret company.”

  “So that we can be rid of her for an evening,” Evelyn added with a smile.

  Charles smiled. “I shall find the lack of glaring to be refreshing.”

  Evelyn shook her head and laughed. “Mother no longer glares at you. She watches carefully, but she does not glare.”

  He shrugged. “I really do not mind either a careful observation or a glare as she can do nothing to prevent us from marrying. The papers have been signed and sent from my solicitor to your father’s solicitor.”

  “Charles is only partially reformed,” Henry whispered.

  “I am not!” Charles cried. “I have left my dissipate ways behind, but I reserve the right to behave rakishly with my soon-to-be wife.” He placed an arm around Evelyn’s shoulders, which she swatted away.

  “And this is why my mother watches closely,” she said, leaning toward Mary. “But that is enough about us. We know very little about either of you.”

  Mary’s cheeks burned. “I believe you know enough about me.” Gabe took her hand. “I must apologize for the grief I had a part in creating for all of you.” She blinked rapidly. Those blasted tears were far too ready to fall, and they mustn’t.

  “Miss Crawford is not who she was,” Gabe added. “She is something far better.”

  Mary’s smile wavered.

  Charles’s brow rose. “Time will be the proof of that, I suppose.”

  Gabe shook his head. “No, she is something far better than her old scheming self now, and with time, she shall only grow better and better.” He tipped his head. “You are the fellow doing charity work, are you not?”

  Charles nodded. “I have been working with some boys at Mrs. Verity’s and helping feed the hungry.”

  “And informing me if he hears of anyone who is in need of a valet or footman or the like,” Evelyn added.

  “How long have you been doing this?”

  Charles shrugged and looked at Evelyn. “A few weeks.”

  “That is not very long,” Gabe replied with a grin, “but I suppose time will prove if this interest is a las
ting thing or a passing fancy, is that not right?”

  Charles shook his head and laughed. “I see your point. I have very little upon which to build my argument.”

  “Indeed,” Gabe replied. “Miss Crawford is not very many days into her new journey, but I, for one, expect it will be a successful one. She is a most determined sort of lady.”

  Henry chuckled. “I can vouchsafe for that.”

  “Henry says you are in trade, Mr. Durward,” Constance inserted, smiling at Mary, who was feeling, and likely looking, rather unsettled by the turn of the conversation.

  She was delighted to hear Gabe defend her so valiantly, but it was a strange feeling and seemed out of place here where she sat with those she had offended. She deserved Mr. Edwards’s censure. Miss Linton’s compassion was not what she deserved.

  “She has a good heart,” Henry whispered in his sister’s ear while Gabe told Evelyn about having a warehouse and ships. “She does not hold your actions against you.”

  “How can she not?” Mary asked in surprise.

  Henry shrugged. “As her brother always says, ‘A shepherd does not beat the lost lamb when it returns to him.’”

  Mary’s brows rose high at such an odd statement.

  “Trefor enjoys speaking in metaphors,” Henry explained. “Unusual metaphors. You were lost, much as I was.” He smiled at her. “But we are lost no longer.”

  Mary returned his smile and looked at Gabe. “No, we are not.”

  She had found her place in this world next to a gentleman whom she could trust and who demonstrated his belief in and care for her without apology. Moreover, she had not had to do one thing to convince him that he should attach himself to her. She laughed to herself. Mr. Durward did not strike her as the sort of man that anyone ever easily convinced to do anything if he did not wish to do it.

  “Miss Crawford has visited my establishment,” Gabe said, holding Mary’s eyes with his intense gaze.

  “Did you?” Evelyn asked eagerly. “I have only seen Mr. Gardiner’s warehouse and only once, and I admit I was not paying particular attention to the building.” Her cheeks coloured.