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Miss Sophy straightened her bonnet and then ran her hands down the front of her gown. “It is wretchedly windy here. I do wonder how I am going to manage eating a bite. Surely it will fly away before it reaches my lips.”
“You will see,” Wright said. “This little inlet here will block most of the wind. If you would only take a few steps back.”
“You know a great deal about this place,” Miss Sophy said, tipping her face to bestow a saccharine smile on him. The servants spread a thick blanket over the dry grass and began setting out the baskets, leaving the food within them to keep it from becoming sandy. Though they’d moved inland, the breeze still carried a good deal of sand where it wished.
Wright took her hand and helped her to sit on the corner of one blanket as the servants laid out another one. “Well, I should know something about this estate. I have considered purchasing it.”
Mac stared, unsure if the earth actually slipped out from beneath him or if it only felt as though it had. His stomach dropped to the ground, spinning and souring as it went. Wright? Purchase Camden Court? How the devil had he even heard of the place?
“But you have a house in Warwickshire,” Mabel said, sounding as stunned as Mac felt. Her eyes were round, widened, and she looked about them as though seeing the place in a new light. Was she imagining it as if she was mistress here? Devil take it. Mac wanted her to be mistress here, but only if he was master.
“I had imagined my bride would appreciate living closer to her family estate,” Wright explained.
Mabel’s face went white. Was she truly considering the prospect of marrying that wretched man? Mac’s blood heated and he clenched his fists, anger pumping through him. More baskets were brought out, but he could not partake of their contents. He could not do anything but refrain from attacking Wright, and it was a dangerous position to be in.
Turning from the group, Mac rounded the path and found his way to the road. A brisk walk and a few minutes away from the party would give him time and air to clear his head.
Camden Court could already be in his possession if he’d wanted it to be. When he’d met the solicitor here a few weeks before to discuss the parameters of the sale, he’d learned that no one had shown any interest in the estate in well over a year. He’d thought he’d had time. Foolishly, he’d hoped the prize money would come in larger than they’d expected—that he would be blessed with enough to free his father and purchase Camden still.
But as Captain Sheffield’s lieutenants, Mac’s and Wright’s prize portions were equal. If Mac’s prize money came in higher, so would Wright’s. And if Wright wanted this place, who would stop him? The owners had long since awaited a sale. They would not hold out for Mac, not when Wright would be a sure thing.
He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. So this was what it felt like to watch a dream slip away.
“Mac?”
He paused on the road and ran a hand through his hair, waiting until he had applied some semblance of order to his emotions before turning to face his friend.
Charles approached on the road. “What is it? You seem distressed.”
Mac opened his mouth to tell his friend everything, to confess it all, but he paused, the distress in Charles’s eyes enough to curb his tongue. He was troubled, likely as troubled as Mac felt, and he did not need his burdens added to. “I am restless,” Mac said, careful to only speak the truth.
He gave a mirthless laugh. “I understand.”
“Are you going to offer for Miss Pemberton?” Mac asked.
Charles rested a hand on his hip, the other one pinching the bridge of his nose. “At this point, I wonder if I even have a choice.”
“Because you’ve set her expectations?”
Charles held his gaze. “Precisely. As a gentleman, do I have any other options available to me?”
No, he did not. Charles was far too principled to raise the expectation that he would offer for a woman, only to fail to come up to scratch. Even if he did not love her. He was a better man than Mac. Mac didn’t care what any man or woman expected from him. He would never offer for anyone that was not Mabel Sheffield.
“I understand your answer from simply looking at your face,” Charles said, a wry smile finding its way to his mouth. “What choice do I have? I could never live with myself otherwise. I invited her here for that sole purpose, and I am nothing if not a man of my word.”
“Unless you could convince her to marry Wright. That might solve both of our issues.”
“He has no interest in her,” Charles said. “He has his eye on Mabel.”
Charles didn’t say it, but he and Mac both knew that when Mabel wasn’t around, Wright clearly had his eye on Miss Sophy. A matched pair, for certain. And that did not help Charles in the least.
“Shall we return?” Mac asked.
Charles hesitated. “I would like you to know that I can be of some assistance, should you need it.”
Mac stiffened. He’d already told Captain Sheffield he didn’t want a loan. Would he now be forced to deny his friend as well?
“If ever you find yourself with a strong urge to land Wright a facer,” Charles said, “you tell me. I might not be as spry in the ring as Jackson, but I can hold my own.”
