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“Miss Sheffield, I am beyond honored that your father finds me worthy of becoming your husband, and I should like nothing more than to join this family, but I want to make it very clear—and I have done so from the first,” he added, shooting her father a look—“that I will not force you into a union which you find distasteful.”
The silence stretched long enough for Mabel to shift in her seat, turning against her reluctance and giving Mr. Wright her attention, however awkward it was.
The small smile on his lips was little balm, but she recognized the effort Mr. Wright was making and owned that this situation was likely as uncomfortable for him as it was for her.
“I’ve come to help build the tenant cottages,” he continued, “and I propose we take the time to get to know one another and decide between us if we should suit. Will that be agreeable to you?”
It was far from agreeable. Mabel was not in the market for a husband. She had enough on her plate with Pippa, Gram, and running the estate; taking on a husband was the last thing on her mind. Let alone a man she had never before met.
This was all too much for her.
Standing, Mabel clasped her hands before her. “I assume you will want to wash off the travel dirt prior to dinner, Papa? I will order a bath straight away, and”—turning to Mr. Wright, Mabel struggled to hold a steady smile—“Mrs. Henderson is waiting in the foyer to direct you to your chamber. We are entertaining far more guests than our household is used to, and you will forgive me for placing you on the third floor. Your bedchamber is situated beside Mr. MacKenzie’s if you find yourself lost or in need of direction.”
Mabel dipped a curtsy and escaped before either man could waylay her. She needed space, time to consider what had just occurred. Pausing in the foyer, Mabel saw Mrs. Henderson waiting to direct their most recent guest to his bedchamber and requested a bath brought to her father before she turned for the front door and let herself out.
She needed time to breathe.
