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“But that pole is nearly as old as we are, Charles.” She laughed and the musical sound filled Mac with unaccountable joy. He took a breath and shook off that strange feeling. He had known Mabel for the majority of his life and never had she, or anyone really, elicited such a warm reaction within him. He would have been ashamed if it was not downright enjoyable.
“Oh, Charles, you are not speaking of that ratty old thing you showed me this morning, are you?” Miss Pemberton said with a pretty little pout. “It is positively ancient.”
“And full of luck, my dear,” Charles said as he lifted her small hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. Her cheeks blushed becomingly, and she turned away from him, with just the right amount of coyness that society matrons taught their daughters to portray.
Mac shot a glance at Mabel, and his heart wrenched when he saw the shock written on her features. She clamped her jaw shut and looked away, but not before he noticed her surprise melt into sorrow.
“Surely it cannot be that lucky if you failed to catch a single fish?” Miss Pemberton pressed. “I’m certain we could get you something much better than that wretched excuse for a pole.”
Charles smiled endearingly down at the little minx and sighed. “You are probably right. I don’t know why I hold on to that old thing. Especially when its luck faded out long ago. Didn’t it, Mae?” He shot a look over to Mabel.
Her face flushed, and she tried to smile, but Mac could see the slight tremble of her lip as she answered, “I suppose that is true.”
She stood before another tick of the clock could sound and crossed to the door. “I must see to the altered menus. If you’ll excuse me.”
A chorus of halfhearted answers fueled her escape, and Mabel fled, passing Mrs. Boucher, the older companion traveling with the Misses Pemberton, as she came into the room. Mac stood to follow Mabel and caught up with her just outside the door that led down to the kitchens.
“Wait!” he called.
She paused but did not turn around. He had acted before considering his situation and remembered that, while she would not welcome any consolation from the man he truly was—the man who had known her and Charles and the significance of that pole—she would most certainly find it bizarre to be consoled by an utter stranger.
“You ran out of there so quickly,” he said, searching for the right words. “I merely wanted to make sure you were—”
“I am fine, Mr. Mac. Thank you,” she answered tightly. Judging by the firm set to her shoulders, she was trying to hold herself together.
Mac reached for her arm, squeezing it in encouragement. “If it’s any consolation, the blockhead wouldn’t take my advice either. I am under the impression that he has eyes for Miss Pemberton alone at the moment. The rest of us pale in comparison.”
Mabel let out a breath, and her shoulders relaxed beneath his hand. She turned, and he cringed at the sheen in her eyes but warmed at her attempt to smile. “If only he felt me important enough to inform me that his heart even had a desire.”
“Has he had the chance?” Mac asked. They had not yet been in Graton for a full day.
“Actually, yes, he has. Not only could he have written, but we spoke last evening for a length of time.” She seemed to lose herself in a memory when her eyes glazed over. “I asked him about his previous love, and we discussed how he has finally moved past his feelings for her. He could have told me that he had gotten over Amelia because he had moved on to someone else.” Her features hardened as she focused on Mac’s face again. “Someone who was coming to stay in my home.”
Mac shrugged his shoulders. “Not that it is any excuse, but that is just the way Charles is.”
“I know.” She released an exasperated breath before her eyes darted to his hand where it was still resting on her shoulder. He jumped back, and a blush crept up his neck.
Mabel collected herself and gave him a sly grin. “Apparently you are a man of many words.”
He chuckled. “You thought otherwise?”
“You gave me little reason to think much else. Thank you, though. I do feel better.” The smile of gratitude she bestowed on him melted his heart and raced his pulse simultaneously.
He watched her walk away while his body filled with lead, and a heaviness settled on his bones. If Mac knew one thing, it was this: he had to do everything in his power to get that smile back on her face again.
Or maybe two things. For under no condition was Mabel to make the connection that he was not plain and simple-minded Mac. If anything was going to put the sorrow back in her eyes—or worse, anger—it would be if she found out that he was, in fact, Liam MacKenzie. The man who had once broken her heart.
