Page 56 of Miss Murchison’s Mistletoe Memories

“My interest in Miss Èibhlin has been both proper and consistent, Your Grace. The Duchess herself has encouraged our connection, recognising its suitability for all concerned.”

“All except Miss Èibhlin herself, perhaps,” Niall observed, remembering her evident discomfort at Lord Gregory’s attentions. “She has shown no particular enthusiasm for your suit, Lord Gregory, despite the Duchess’ encouragement.”

“A young lady’s initial reserve is hardly unusual,” Lord Gregory replied dismissively. “Particularly one raised in such... provincial... circumstances. With proper guidance, Miss Èibhlin would come to appreciate the advantages of our connection.”

“Advantages for whom?” Niall’s voice hardened. “For Miss Èibhlin, who would be expected to submit to a lifetime with a man who views her heritage with barely concealed disdain? Or for yourself, gaining a wife whose exotic background provides novelty while her docility, assumed but not confirmed, ensures that your comfort remains undisturbed?”

Lord Gregory’s face flushed with anger.

“You presume to know my mind, Your Grace, when you have scarcely exchanged a dozen sentences with me since Miss Èibhlin’s arrival. My regard for her is genuine, whatever you may choose to believe.”

“As genuine as your regard for her wishes?” Niall countered, rising from his chair to face Lord Gregory directly. “She made her reluctance clear last night, yet you persisted in forcing her towards a situation that she wished to avoid.”

“Forcing?” Lord Gregory laughed, the sound sharp with disbelief. “A harmless holiday tradition suddenly becomes coercion when it suits your narrative, Your Grace. One might almost suspect that your concern for Miss Èibhlin stems from something more personal than mere hospitality.”

The accusation, accurate though it was, brought Niall’s simmering anger dangerously close to the surface.

He controlled it with effort, aware that losing his composure would only strengthen Lord Gregory’s position.

“My concern for Miss Èibhlin stems from knowing her far better than you do, Lord Gregory,” he said, his voice low and controlled. “We were acquainted as children during my visits to Scotland. I have seen her in her natural environment, free from the constraints of London society. I know her character, her intelligence, her spirit — qualities you seem to regard as defects to be corrected, rather than strengths to be valued.”

Lord Gregory’s eyes narrowed, reassessing the situation with new understanding.

“So that explains it,” he said slowly. “A childhood attachment, rekindled upon her arrival in London. How charmingly sentimental, Your Grace. Though hardly a sufficient basis for the Duke of Stonemont to compromise his position for the daughter of a minor Scottish peer.”

“My position suffers no compromise from recognising worth where it exists,” Niall replied, the words emerging with a certainty that surprised even him. “Miss Èibhlin brings qualities to any connection that far outweigh considerations of rank or fortune.”

“The ton may take a different view,” Lord Gregory observed, his tone taking on a note of warning. “As might the Earl, my father, whose influence extends to circles even a Duke might find valuable. Your actions last night have already caused considerable comment, Your Grace. A continued association with Miss Èibhlin, particularly one that suggests serious intentions, would invite scrutiny that neither of you might welcome.”

The threat, veiled but unmistakable, confirmed what Niall had already suspected — that Lord Gregory’s interest in Èibhlin had as much to do with thwarted pride as genuine attachment.

The realisation brought with it a sudden clarity, a certainty about his own feelings and intentions that had been building since the moment of their reunion.

“I appreciate your concern for my standing, Lord Gregory,” he said, his voice steady despite the emotions churning beneath the surface. “But I find myself increasingly indifferent to scrutiny based on artificial constraints rather than genuine merit. Miss Èibhlin possesses character, intelligence, and dignity that would grace any position, including that of Duchess.”

Lord Gregory stared at him, momentarily speechless at this direct acknowledgment of what had previously been only implied. When he found his voice again, it held a mixture of disbelief and calculation.

“You cannot be serious, Your Grace. The Duchess would never countenance such a match. Nor would society understand it, regardless of Miss Èibhlin’s personal qualities. The Duke of Stonemont requires a wife whose rank and connections complement his own, not a provincial girl whose chief distinction is a remote Scottish title that few in London have even heard of.”

“And yet,” Niall replied, with a small smile that contained no humour, “it is precisely that ‘provincial girl’ who has captured my attention and regard in a way that no amount of rank or connection could achieve. Curious, is it not, how the heart refuses to be governed by practical considerations?”

“The heart?” Lord Gregory’s laugh was sharp with genuine amusement. “Now you sound like a lovesick boy rather than the Duke of Stonemont. Next, you’ll be composing sonnets to her eyebrows and sighing beneath her window.”

“I doubt either would be necessary,” Niall observed dryly. “Miss Èibhlin has never struck me as a young woman who requires such dramatic demonstrations of regard.”

Lord Gregory’s amusement faded, replaced by a calculating assessment that Niall found more concerning than his earlier anger.

“So, you are serious,” he said finally. “You genuinely intend to pursue Miss Èibhlin despite the obvious unsuitability of the connection.”

“I intend,” Niall replied carefully, “to allow my actions to be guided by genuine feeling rather than artificial convention. Beyond that, my intentions towards Miss Èibhlin are a matter between her and myself.”

“A diplomatic evasion,” Lord Gregory observed, “but clear enough in its implications. Very well, Your Grace. I shall withdraw my interest in Miss Èibhlin, since it appears that the field is already occupied by a more... determined... competitor.” He moved towards the door, then paused, turning back with an expression which suggested that their conversation was not yet concluded. “A word of caution, however. The ton forgives much from a Duke, but even Ducal privilege has its limits.”

Niall regarded him with a raised eyebrow.

“And your point is?”

Lord Gregory shrugged.