AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The soft-spoken greetings rolled in with slight nods, dips, and bows as Mabel did her best to spread her smile to the occupants of the room, dusting them each with her greetings while her heart hammered wildly against her breastbone.
Mac. Charles had said Mac, but he’d meant Liam. Liam MacKenzie.
She’d had a flicker of doubt the moment they had collided in the corridor. He’d certainly seemed familiar then, but it had been so dark, and he really was very changed.
And the name. Mac surely had to be shortened for MacKenzie.
She drew in a fortifying breath. Liam MacKenzie was sitting in her drawing room, requesting to be called an absurd name, clearly under the impression that he was actually fooling Mabel into believing his farce.
The shadowed corridor was one thing, but did the giant truly believe Mabel to be so dull that she would not recognize him in the fully lit drawing room? They had grown up as neighbors, and at one time she had actually fancied herself in…well, that was irrelevant. She snuck a look at him and caught his hazel gaze before it flicked away.
“Care to join us for a game?” Charles asked, drawing her attention. He was beaming, and Mabel was determined to discover why he was so pleased with himself. He could not be that glad just to see her. “We are nearly ready to begin a new one.”
But it could wait. “No, thank you. I must go and find Pippa. I’ve yet to see her today.”
“She is out with her maid. Hope, I think her name was?” Charles supplied. “They should return shortly, though. They must have left nigh on an hour ago.”
“Right,” Mabel said, her excuse thwarted and leaving her in a lurch. She crossed to the chair normally occupied by Gram—where was Gram, anyway?—and lowered herself slowly, positioning herself near where Mac sat on the sofa. She watched Charles return to his game and grin at the ladies, a slight wave of jealousy washing over her for how easily she had been dismissed.
If she was forced to endure Mac’s presence, then she ought to give herself the upper hand. Turning toward the sofa, she offered him a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. “You found Charles on the continent, then? Did you all travel here together?”
Mac opened his mouth to respond but was cut off.
“Yes, pure luck,” Mr. Pemberton said from his seat at the card table. “Pure luck it was to run into such an old friend.” The man swung his eyeglass from his finger before artfully flipping it up and perusing Mabel from head to toe once more. She felt a blush creep up her neck and turned her attention away from the dandy and toward Liam. Or should she call him Mac? She was undecided about whether or not she wanted to reveal that his ruse was all for naught.
But, no. She would not give in too easily. If he believed her to be unaware of his true identity, she would take advantage of the opportunity.
It would take some training in her mind, but she could do it. She could remove Liam altogether and think of the man who’d once broken her heart as Mac.
* * *
“Sir, are you well?”
It took a moment for Mac to realize that Mabel had addressed him. He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. She gave him a look somewhere between condescension and uneasiness, and he felt a blush fill his face. She must think him as dimwitted as a common mule.
But at least she hadn’t recognized him.
Mabel tilted her head and offered him an easy smile, no doubt finding the prospect of his conversation less demanding than the rake that had ogled her moments ago. Mac could wring Desmond’s neck, the ridiculous dandy, pulling out his eyeglass and sweeping his gaze over her like that. The action had made Mac’s temper rise faster than Miss Sophy’s suggestive glances had all morning. And if anyone could raise his ire, it was certainly Miss Sophy—the fortune-hunting chit.
“I noticed you were fishing this morning,” Mabel said. “Did you have any luck?”
Mac cleared his throat before shaking his head awkwardly. If he spoke too much, would she recognize his voice? Probably better to keep quiet as long as possible.
“Do you know what I think?” Mabel quieted her voice and leaned in to impart her secret. Mac leaned in as well, his pulse quickening at her proximity, a faint floral smell tickling his nose. Gardenias, wasn’t it? He recalled the moment Charles had bought the fragrance for his cousin while they were in London. His gaze fell into hers. He could reach out and graze her smooth jaw with his thumb if he wanted to. And man alive, did he have a sudden desire to do just that.
“I think,” she said, raising her voice slightly, “that if Charles would replace his lucky fishing gear, he might actually have some luck on that miserable pond.”
Mac had to smile at this. He had said the very same thing earlier that morning, but Charles had steadfastly refused.
“Did I hear you were fishing this morning?” The sickeningly sweet lilt of Miss Sophy’s voice floated to them from the card table, and Mac tensed.
“We did. Not that we caught anything. Right, Mac?” Charles said, his lovesick face directing everything he said to the blonde beside him. Mac wanted to scoff at how smitten his friend had become with Lydia Pemberton. She was nice enough, he supposed, and certainly pretty. But there was something about her that didn’t settle right with Mac. But to be fair, her fortune-hunting sister could be the source of his doubt.
“That is correct,” Mac said dutifully. “But we have time.”
“Perhaps if you acquired new gear…” Mabel playfully directed to her cousin.
Charles shot her a playful scowl. “You know I could never.”
