The Christmas Secret by Julia London Page A

sister, “he was not gazing at her, he was gazing at you . And there is a rumor about that he is to inherit his uncle’s estate and title. How does Lord Canavan sound to you?”
    “Lord Canavan sounds as if he will be a pompous bag of wind to me,” Donnelly said.
    “Have we invited Mr. Canavan to the first day of Christmastide?” Lady Donnelly asked thoughtfully, staring off for a moment as if she mentally reviewed all the invitations.
    “Of course we have,” Mrs. Sullivan said. “One cannot invite his mother and not invite Mr. Canavan. They are inseparable.”
    A mother’s pet, Henry thought, and looked at Erin. She smiled in a way that made him think she knew precisely what he was thinking.
    “You may all afix your sights on some other unsuspecting young woman for Mr. Canavan,” Mrs. Sullivan said with a sniff. “Rumors of a title are not enough to suit us. He is simply not what we hope for Eireanne.”
    Oh, yes. The titled gentleman from London, who will magically appear to save them all, Henry thought dryly.
    “You’ll be in attendance, will you not, Mr. Bristol?” Molly asked, leaning around Mabe to have a look at him.
    “Of course!” Lady Donnelly said, and smiled warmly at Henry. “He’s so far from home, and at Christmas, too. You’ll spend Christmastide with us, will you not, Mr. Bristol? We shall have our Christmas feast, naturally, and then a New Year’s celebration, and the Twelfth Night ball—”
    “The bal l ?” Donnelly interrupted, peering down the table at his wife. “I thought we’d agreed on a quiet gathering.”
    “I do not intend a big ball, my love.”
    “We did not—” Donnelly started, and then frowned, slumping back in his chair and glaring at her. “Never mind.”
    Lady Donnelly was quite unperturbed by his stern look and smiled at Henry. “You will join us, won’t you?”
    “Thank you, but I cannot impose,” Henry said.
    “It is no imposition!” she cried in unison with her sisters.
    “But you have already extended such generous hospitality.”
    “You have a room, young man,” Mrs. Sullivan said. “I will not allow you to sit in that room during the Christmas season writing your family to tell them what wretched people we are.”
    “I would never—”
    “Mr. Bristol, it won’t do to argue,” Erin said sweetly. “I should warn you that when my sister-in-law puts her mind to something, she must have it.”
    “I will attest to that,” Donnelly said, and winked at his wife.
    “My grandmamma is no better,” Erin added. “Please say you will be our guest.”
    Who could refuse her? Henry could not. He smiled and picked up his wineglass. “Now I shall write my family tonight and tell them I have been extended the warmest of invitations, and that you aren’t the least bit wretched. Thank you,” he said, and lifted his glass in toast.
    “Sláinte !” they called out to him.

Chapter Four
     
    All her life, Eireanne had been as attached to Molly and Mabe Hannigan as if they’d been blood, but she was blessedly relieved to escape their attentions one afternoon when Mrs. Hannigan insisted the girls accompany her to Galway and Keira begged to go along. Naturally, Declan did not want Keira to leave, what with her delicate condition and the cold air that was beginning to sink down on Ballynaheath. Keira was nothing if not strong-willed. She ignored his protests and kissed him on the cheek on her way out, promising cheerfully to accept any punishment he would mete out when she returned.
    When she said that, Declan grabbed her and wrapped her in a fierce embrace, kissing her openly and long, and then let her go. Eireanne had never seen her brother so passionate about anyone as he was about Keira—not even his horses. She hoped, she prayed, that one day she would know that sort of passion for her. And that she would feel it for someone as worthy as Declan.
    Funny how an image of Mr. Bristol scudded like an oak leaf across her mind.
    As the day wore on, and the