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Chapter 11
Was the man in earnest? Mabel could hardly credit it. He could not possibly believe Mabel would fall for his charms so easily, not when he had been a known flirt before, and she had been foolish enough to fall for it. She had believed herself in love with Mac at one point. His quiet, calm strength and the amusing glint in his eye had drawn her toward him when they were younger. But now? Now, she hardly knew him.
Mabel shook her head. “I hardly have time for these games.”
“It is not a game,” he said, reaching forward to stop her on the stairs, taking her hand in his. His large fingers wrapped around her own, making her feel delicate, protected, in a way no other man had before. “I would love to take you riding. Why not give me a chance to prove myself? I should like the opportunity to become your friend.”
She paused, shock coursing through her body. His eyes were so beseeching, his face pleading, and she wanted to grant him whatever his heart desired. But what would that do to Mabel if she gave of herself so easily? Sometimes it felt that was all she did—give of herself.
Time. She needed more time to sort through this. And if this man was going to remain in her house for the summer, then evidently, they had plenty of it.
“Miss Sheffield?” Mrs. Henderson’s voice drifted to them from the bottom of the staircase, breaking through the haze. “Forgive my interruption.”
Mac was still, but his eyes never left her face, and Mabel could feel the weight of his gaze. “Yes, Mrs. Henderson?”
“Your father has just arrived, miss, and I wished to consult you on the sleeping arrangements.”
Her heart jumped. Papa was here. Soon, all would be right. “He will have the master suite, of course.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Henderson agreed. “And his friend?”
A niggling unease slipped into Mabel’s chest. “He has brought a friend?”
Mac turned on the stairs. “Who did he bring, ma’am?”
Mrs. Henderson’s gaze shifted between them. “A man called Mr. Wright.”
Mac’s hand tightened on Mabel’s and she pulled hers free, rubbing the tension from it.
“Forgive me,” Mac said, his voice low. “I will let you attend to this. But please, consider my request. I would like to give you reason to call me your friend again, Mabel. I wish it, dearly.”
His low voice washed over her, prickling her skin. Brushing past her, Mac mounted the stairs, and Mabel allowed herself a moment to regain her equilibrium, clutching the bannister for strength.
“Miss Sheffield?”
“Yes,” she said, giving her housekeeper a tight smile. She started down the stairs. “Come, let us see what we can contrive. Did Papa say how long Mr. Wright would remain here?”
“No, miss.”
“Then we shall see what we can do. And quickly. I should very much like to greet my father.”
It took all of a quarter-hour to arrange a proper room for Papa’s guest. He would be placed in the room next to Mac’s and would have to be content to remain there until the Pembertons could be persuaded to leave. She trusted however old he was, he would be able to manage the stairs. Any friend of her father likely knew him from his ship, and that meant the man would be spry enough to handle both staircases. If he was too old or perhaps injured, then she would have to reassess, but she chose not to concern herself with that possibility quite yet.
Mabel’s heart sped the closer she drew to the drawing room. It had been just under two years since she had set eyes on her papa, and their reunions were always sweet.
Soft, familiar giggling filtered into the corridor, lifting Mabel’s spirits even further. Pippa spoke of their papa often, but in truth, the girl hardly knew him. This visit would be good for all of their souls.
“Mabel?” Papa’s voice broke into her stupor, and she realized she’d halted in the doorway, watching him sit on the settee with Pippa on his knee. His weather-beaten face and long, white beard were the same as always, though the wrinkles around his eyes had grown in number.
“Papa,” she said, crossing the floor.
He stood, setting Pippa aside and pulling Mabel into an embrace. It felt comforting and secure, his arms constant and strong. “You are as beautiful as ever,” he said, dropping a kiss on her head.
Cheeks warming, Mabel stepped back, aware of the man standing just beside the settee, gloves in hand.
“Mabel, allow me to introduce Lieutenant Wright.”
“Please, just Mr. Wright. Now that I’ve left the navy, you’ll have to cease calling me lieutenant, sir.”
