Page 25 of Miss Murchison’s Mistletoe Memories

Niall observed this exchange with growing irritation. From his position across the table, he could see Èibhlin’s increasing discomfort, though she maintained her composure with admirable grace. Once or twice their eyes met briefly, and he thought that he detected a plea for rescue in her gaze before she returned her attention to Lord Gregory’s monologue.

“And what of your interests, Miss Èibhlin?” Sir Thomas asked, during a rare pause in Lord Gregory’s discourse. “I recall that you mentioned a fondness for music at Lady Harrington’s gathering.”

“Yes, I enjoy playing the pianoforte,” Èibhlin replied, with evident relief at the change of subject. “And reading, of course. My father’s library at Felldale is quite extensive.”

“Reading?” Lord Gregory’s eyebrows rose slightly. “How... intellectual of you. Though I suppose one must find some occupation during those long Scottish winters. What sort of books do you prefer? Poetry and novels, I imagine, like most young ladies?”

There was a patronising note in his voice that made Niall’s hand tighten around his soup spoon. Èibhlin’s expression remained pleasant, though he noted a slight lift of her chin which suggested that she had not missed the condescension.

“I enjoy a variety of literature,” she said evenly. “Poetry and novels, certainly, but also history, philosophy, and classical texts. My father believes in a well-rounded education.”

“How progressive of him,” Lord Gregory remarked, with a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Though I wonder if such... unconventional... learning might not be somewhat wasted on a young lady. After all, a woman’s natural sphere is the home, is it not? The management of a household, the raising of children — these are surely her most important duties.”

“Education enhances rather than detracts from those duties,” Èibhlin replied, her voice cool but composed. “A well-informed mind is an asset in any sphere, I believe.”

“Well said, Miss Èibhlin,” Lady Westmoreland interjected, with a sharp glance at Lord Gregory. “Though perhaps not a view universally shared in certain circles.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Niall found himself torn between admiration for Èibhlin’s dignified response and concern that her evident intelligence might be viewed as a liability rather than an asset by potential suitors. Lord Gregory, in particular, seemed taken aback by her quiet assertion, his expression suggesting that he was unused to being challenged, however politely, by a young lady.

To Niall’s surprise, it was Miss Murchison who broke the tension.

“Lord Gregory, I understand from the Duchess that your family’s estate in Derbyshire includes extensive hunting grounds. My brother – Miss Eibhlin’s father, is quite the sportsman. Perhaps you might elaborate on the game to be found at Codhampton?”

It was a masterful redirection, appealing directly to Lord Gregory’s pride in his family’s property, while steering the conversation away from the potentially contentious topic of female education.

Lord Gregory seized the opportunity with evident relief, launching into a detailed description of Codhampton’s pheasant coverts and trout streams.

As he spoke, Miss Murchison caught Èibhlin’s eye and gave a small, approving nod, as if to say, ‘This is a better direction’. The Duchess, too, seemed pleased by the change in topic, her expression softening as she observed Lord Gregory’s renewed animation.

Niall watched this silent exchange with growing disbelief. It seemed that both his own mother and Miss Murchison — who had agreed on virtually nothing since the Murchisons’ arrival — were united in their apparent approval of Lord Gregory as a potential suitor for Èibhlin.

The realisation sent a cold weight settling in his stomach, a sensation he was reluctantly forced to identify as jealousy. The emotion was as unwelcome as it was inappropriate. He had no claim on Èibhlin, no right to resent another man’s attentions to her.

She was free to form attachments as she chose, and Lord Gregory, despite his self-absorption and condescension, was objectively a suitable match for her. As Duke of Stonemont, Niall had responsibilities that transcended personal inclination — responsibilities to his title, his estates, and the hundreds of people who depended on him.

Yet as he watched Lord Gregory lean closer to Èibhlin, speaking in a lowered voice that suggested intimacy, Niall felt a surge of something dangerously close to anger.

The young Lord’s manner was too familiar, his attention too marked for such a brief acquaintance. And Èibhlin, though outwardly composed, had a certain tension in her posture that suggested discomfort rather than pleasure at this proximity.

“Your Grace seems somewhat distracted this evening,” Lady Westmoreland murmured, her voice low enough that only he could hear. “I trust you are not unwell?”

Niall forced his attention back to his dinner companion, schooling his features into a polite smile.

“Not at all, Lady Westmoreland. Merely preoccupied with some estate matters that require my attention tomorrow.”

“I see,” she replied, though her knowing gaze suggested that she saw rather more than he would have wished. “Estate matters can be so demanding, can they not? Particularly when they involve... unexpected developments.”

The pointed comment, coupled with her meaningful glance towards Èibhlin and Lord Gregory, left Niall in no doubt that Lady Westmoreland had observed his reaction to their interaction.

He felt a flash of annoyance at his own transparency, followed by a renewed determination to maintain his composure for the rest of the evening.

“All developments require careful management,” he replied neutrally. “But I have found that patience and clear thinking generally prevail in the end.”

“Very wise,” Lady Westmoreland murmured, though the gleam in her eye suggested that she found his response more revealing than he had intended. “Though in my experience, fortune often favours the bold rather than the merely patient.”

Before Niall could decipher this cryptic advice, the second course arrived — a roast pheasant with seasonal vegetables — providing a welcome diversion. As the footmen served the new dishes, Niall took the opportunity to observe Èibhlin once more.

She was speaking with Sir Thomas now, her expression animated as they discussed some topic that appeared to genuinely interest her. The contrast between her engagement with Sir Thomas and her polite restraint with Lord Gregory was striking, though Niall doubted anyone else at the table had noticed the difference. There was a naturalness to her manner with the older gentleman that suggested she found his company genuinely agreeable, despite the disparity in their ages.