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Mac stood on the edge of the field, his horse tied to a tree just behind him. Mabel walked ahead of the row of cottages, leading Pippa by the hand, and the smile on her face healed the sorrow in Mac’s heart.
He’d been too late. After spending a few days with his family, his heart healed from the anger and bitterness he’d stored within it, he had set off to obtain ownership of Camden Court. But he had missed it by mere days, and the solicitor refused to tell him who had purchased the estate, claiming the buyer wished to remain anonymous. Not that Mac truly wondered. It had to be Wright. Who else would have bought a dilapidated manor house on the northern Devon coastline but the man who’d professed a desire to do just that?
But dreams could change. Just because Mac did not obtain the house he desired, that did not mean he could not settle somewhere else nearby. Now that he knew he had the funds to purchase an estate, he was going to go directly to Mabel and beg her to agree to be his wife. He would never be wealthy—his portion of the prizes were not so grand as that—but he believed they could be comfortable together.
Starting across the field, he cringed at the trampled, dried petals adorning the ground. The larkspur had been utterly ruined, and the lady of Larkspur Vale, as he’d thought of Mabel, stood in the midst of her ruined vale now, looked peaceably content surrounded by the chaos of the celebration.
“See!” Pippa yelled at once, tugging at Mabel’s arm. “I told you, Mae! I told you he would come!”
Mac smiled at the little sprite before hazarding a glance at her older sister. He paused ten feet before her, the majority of the celebration taking place behind her.
“You’ve come back,” she said, her eyes widened.
He could tell he’d surprised her, and he did not know if that was good or not. Had she imagined that he had left for good? And with no goodbye?
Taking a step closer, he dipped his head. “Did you think I would not?”
Pippa ran up to him. “Will you do it? Will you still be my villain?”
Mac could not help but grin down at her hopeful eyes, and he chucked her lightly under the chin. “Of course.”
“Good. I will tell my friends to prepare themselves. We must perform within the hour, or the sun will be gone.”
“Of course,” Mac agreed, nodding seriously. The sun was nowhere near disappearing, but Pippa had no notion of the time, it seemed, and her urgency was darling. She ran off in a flurry of skirts and flying plaits, and Mabel’s chuckle lifted on the breeze, wrapping around his heart.
“Mabel,” he said, crossing the distance. He paused just before her, using every bit of self-control he had to refrain from reaching out and pulling her into his arms.
She looked confused, her eyebrows drawn together, her body stiff. “Did you have a safe journey?”
He nodded. “Everything—well, nearly everything has been sorted.”
“And your business?”
“My…what is it that you thought I was doing for these last few weeks, Mabel?” he asked, stepping closer still.
She lifted one shoulder, looking to the gathered group near the table of delicacies. “I haven’t any idea.”
“I was seeing my father freed from prison and offering my mother a home of her own.”
Mabel’s face whipped around, her lips parting as a sigh escaped her lips. “Mac, I had no idea—”
“It does not matter now. My parents have blessedly chosen to remain in Bath.” He swallowed. “But that does not mean I can fully escape my name being tainted by the association. I will forever battle my father’s indiscretions, and censure will sometimes meet me, regardless of my own spotless reputation. It is the nature of my father’s failing, I’m afraid.”
“What does that matter?” she asked, shaking her head slightly. Her violet-blue eyes were dark in the late afternoon sun, worry and concern drooping her features.
“It does not, not to me. But I fear for my future wife.”
She glanced over her shoulder and Mac wanted to ask who the devil she was looking for. “You,” he said, taking her by the hand and not caring a whit who saw him. She faced him and he wanted to kiss the surprise off her face. “Mabel, if you can stand the injustice of it, I would beg you to consider saying yes.”
“Injustice of what? That you are proposing marriage to me in the very place you once broke my heart? Really, Mac. Could you not have chosen a new locale?”
He smiled. “No. I would rather replace those wretched, embarrassing memories with better ones.”
She shook her head. “Mac, you must see that I cannot say yes.”
“Why the devil not?” he asked, tightening his hold on her hands. He grew thunderous, his chest heating in anger. “Do not say you’ve agreed to marry that pompous idiot.”
