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“Yes,” Giulia said. “I have invited the entirety of the Sheffields’ house party, including Mr. Pemberton’s sisters.”
“Why do you say that with such disdain? Surely they are not too bad.”
“Oh, you shall see for yourself tomorrow night.”
Mabel whipped her head around. She had taken a dislike to the Pemberton sisters, but she had no idea Giulia felt the same way.
Amelia turned her attention to Mabel. “You are being unusually quiet. Has one of these men caught your eye?”
“Actually, you’ll know the second lieutenant,” Mabel said, hoping to avoid needing to answer that question. Giulia wouldn’t have realized, perhaps, that Mac grew up in Graton with the rest of them. “Liam MacKenzie.”
Amelia’s eyebrows lifted. “He’s come back?”
“Indeed.”
“And how long does he plan to stay?”
Mabel sighed. “As long as Papa needs him. Mr. MacKenzie is heading up the project to bring in new tenant farmers for Gram’s land. They broke ground today in the vale, actually.”
Quiet settled over the loft, each woman growing still. Even Giulia, though a relatively recent addition to their group, knew of the connection Mabel had to the vale—in part. She’d never shared her experience with Mac with another soul, but they all knew of her love for the flowers and her belief that they came from her mother.
“Does your father understand what it means to you? Does he not know of your mother’s love for larkspur?” Amelia asked.
She considered the flowers in a vase now on her dressing table. “Papa does not possess a sentimental vein, I am afraid. I’m certain the portrait in his room is reminder enough of my mother, though we do not speak of her much. Occasionally I do find him watching me with an odd expression, and I sometimes wonder if it is because he sees her in my countenance.”
Hattie inched closer on the sofa and strung her arms around Mabel, burying her face in Mabel’s shoulder. Sitting back, she squeezed Mabel’s hand. “He does love you. There is no mistaking that.”
“I did not question it.” She laughed awkwardly. “You are the most supportive friends, but come, let us talk about something less depressing. The ball, perhaps?”
Giulia’s gaze narrowed. Drat her perceptiveness. But she seemed to sense that Mabel needed the topic of conversation to shift away from her. “I have commissioned my cook to bake as many lemon tarts as she can. We’ve used up all of the lemons on our tree and will have to suffer without them for some time, but I do feel it will be worth it.”
“Of course it shall,” Hattie agreed. “I plan to wear a new gown my sister-in-law sent me from London and as much as I’m loath to admit it, it is exquisite.”
Amelia laughed. “Surely you can admit that the woman has virtues as well as faults.”
“That is hard when all I see are her faults,” Hattie said. “It would be easier to like her if she was not so insufferable.”
“Yes, what an insufferable creature,” Amelia agreed. “To send you lovely ball gowns all the way from London? Absurd.”
Hattie’s gaze flicked to the ceiling. “Well, I thought so. ’Tis plain she is doing her utmost to buy my love, is it not?”
“Perhaps she is merely doing her best to be kind,” Mabel said.
“And Charles?” Hattie asked, clearly changing the subject. “Is he much improved since returning?”
“He has grown darker.” Mabel glanced at Amelia, curious how her friend would take this news. “And it is my understanding that he is soon to be engaged. Though you must all promise not to tell a soul until it has been made official.”
“When shall we meet the woman?” Amelia asked. Mabel watched her face for any indication that she was bothered by this revelation, but her face was void of anything but basic interest.
Mabel swallowed her frustration. The woman had allowed Charles to trail behind her, watching her wed thrice while he sat in the background, utterly in love with her. If nothing else, shouldn’t Amelia feel some measure of relief that Charles was about to find his own happiness? He certainly deserved it.
“You will meet her at the ball tomorrow. Her name is Miss Pemberton, and she brings with her a sister by the name of Miss Sophy, and a hired companion called Mrs. Boucher.”
“A formidable woman with a stare that will straighten your back on impact,” Giulia added.
Hattie scrunched her nose. “She sounds like my old governess. It’s glad I am that I do not have to worry about companions or other uncomfortable creatures anymore.”
“Not unless you visit your brother and his wife in London, at least,” Mabel couldn’t help but quip.
