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He watched her in disbelief. “Can you not see that failing to allow me to apologize might be difficult for me?”
She stared at him, dumbstruck.
He decided to press his luck. “I am sorry, Mabel. I can see the folly of my youth, and I wish I would have had the age and wisdom then to see how hurtful my words would have been. Believe it or not, I was not in a good place that day, and I’ve often regretted—”
“Telling me I was tall and ugly?”
“Ugly?” Mac said, rearing back. “Never did I say—”
“Telling a young woman she was far too tall, and a lock of her hair would not be a favorable charm for any man is just as good as calling her ugly, Mac,” Mabel spat. “You might as well have said I would never find a husband and would end up a spinster, caring for my sister and grandmother without a single prospect in sight.”
Mabel’s chest heaved, and Mac had a sudden, overwhelming desire to pull her down two steps and crush his lips on hers. But he valued his life, so he refrained.
“Surely you realize how very wrong that is,” he said softly.
“Surely you realize how very true it is. I am a spinster, and I am caring for Pippa and Gram. And please, sir, show me one eligible gentleman who so much as wishes to take me riding.”
Mac straightened. “That, I can do.”
Mabel scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Please, do. And if you say the grouchy duke who lives in Wolfeton House, I will pour vinegar in your soup tonight.”
“No, not the duke. I was unaware we even had one of those nearby.”
“Who, then?”
Mac swallowed. “Me.”
