Lucy Muir by Highland Rivalry

capture Lord Murray’s interest with much the same attitude as Celeste? But something had changed.
    “What,” Phoebe asked her friend slowly, “if Lord Murray does offer for you?” The idea disturbed her.
    “Why, then I have made the Match of the Season,” Celeste replied, surprised that her friend had to inquire. “I, the daughter of a gentleman who works in the City. Can you imagine Olivia’s chagrin?”
    “But would you be happy?”
    “Of course,” Celeste replied, regarding her friend strangely. “Lord Murray is well-looking, kind and a Scotsman. What more could one ask? Would you not accept him if he offered for you?”
    “I suppose I would,” Phoebe answered as she slipped into the bed beside Celeste. But her reason for accepting would be much different from her friend’s. The conversation with Celeste had made Phoebe realize that the plan they had originally conceived had become more than a competition or game to her. If she accepted an offer from Lord Murray it would not just be for the glory of winning.
    Phoebe pretended to fall asleep, not wanting to talk to Celeste any longer. But in actuality she lay awake for a long time, trying to analyse her feelings towards Lord Murray. Was she developing a tendre for him? It seemed incredible, considering what a short time she had known him, but she could think of no other explanation.
     

Chapter Four
     
    Olivia arose in a very sour temper the morning after the Vauxhall expedition. It was not proving as simple to attach the interest of Lord Murray as she had thought it would be. Before his arrival, she had assumed that given Lord Murray’s purpose in coming to London, her eligibility and beauty plus the advantage of his living in the same house would inevitably lead to an offer. Instead, while she sensed Lord Murray did find her attractive, he had been careful not to single her out, and she knew she had serious rivals in Lady Sheridan, Phoebe and Celeste. She could understand his interest in Lady Sheridan, but Phoebe and Celeste! His apparent partiality for them she could not understand. Perhaps Scotsmen did not put the same value on rank Englishmen did. Whatever the reason, it was creating a problem for her.
    Still thinking over her predicament, Olivia dressed in a new yellow striped morning gown and descended to the breakfast room. Her brother was already there, devouring a plate of eggs and kidneys, but of Lord Murray there was no sign. She ignored Wilfred and helped herself to some toast and coffee, a frown on her face.
    “What’s giving you the blue devils, Livvy?” Wilfred enquired, noting her furrowed brow.
    “I have told you not to call me ‘Livvy,’ ” Olivia said with irritation as she seated herself at the opposite end of the table from her brother. “And do try for some manners, Wilfred. You have spilled coffee down your cravat. How disgusting.”
    Wilfred wiped at the coffee ineffectually. His sister was on her high ropes this morning, and he knew why.
    “You needn’t snap at me because Lord Murray shows an interest in some females other than yourself. Don’t know about Lady Sheridan and Miss Laurence, but I’d prefer Miss Hartwell m’self.”
    “You! No lady in her right mind would choose you, not even a red-headed ape-leader with freckles and a barrister for a father,” Olivia said vituperatively.
    “Don’t know about that,” Wilfred retorted, stung. He might not be much in the petticoat line, but he didn’t care for his sister’s implication no woman could like him.
    “Good morning, Miss Atwood, Mr. Atwood.”
    Olivia started guiltily and wondered how much, if any, Lord Murray had overheard. She remonstrated with herself to remember to guard her tongue at all times while Lord Murray was residing with them. She knew instinctively that he would find any disparaging remarks she made about others off-putting. She smiled brightly.
    “Good morning, Lord Murray. I trust you rested well?”
    “Very well, thank you, Miss