Lord Dearborn's Destiny (6 page)

Ellie followed his gaze, wondering unhappily if she ought to warn him of her aunt's plans for Rosalind. Sir George had been more or less courting her cousin in his slow, steady way before they had left for London but had never gone so far as to declare himself. Ellie liked Sir George, and did not relish the prospect of seeing him hurt.

"Sir George," she began, but at that moment Rosalind emerged from the crowded dance floor on Lord Dearborn's arm.

Ellie thought she looked breathtaking, slightly flushed from her recent exertions, though her face was a bit anxious as she scanned the throng near the door, trying to locate her parents. Suddenly, Rosalind's glance fell on Sir George, and the change in her expression was remarkable. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks grew very pink as the first truly happy smile Ellie had seen her wear since reaching London lit up her face.

"Sir George!" she cried almost rapturously. "Is it really you?" For a moment, Ellie thought her cousin was actually going to fling herself into his arms, but apparently Rosalind remembered where she was in time. "I—I mean, I am delighted to see you in Town," she finished lamely, stopping a few feet from the squire.

Ellie glanced uneasily at Lord Dearborn, whom Rosalind had quite obviously forgotten, and saw that he was wearing a small, thoughtful frown.

"Sir George Bellamy, may I introduce Lord Dearborn?" she said quickly, in an effort to retrieve the situation. At that moment, Mrs. Winston-Fitts returned from the floor, her husband in tow.

"Sir George," she said coolly. "What a pleasure." She offered her hand to the newcomer, while Mr. Winston-Fitts echoed her sentiments with far greater warmth. "I trust you have met Lord Dearborn? Good. Perhaps you would be so kind as to fetch me a glass of orgeat, and then you can catch me up on all of the news from the country."

Sir George, however, was not to be so easily dissuaded from his objective. "I would be delighted, ma'am, as soon as I secure a dance with Miss Winston-Fitts, if her card is not already full."

Rosalind stepped forward eagerly, but her mother forestalled her.

"I fear it likely is, Sir George," she said quickly. "Our Rosalind has quite taken London by storm. But we shall be delighted to see you at the dinner party I am giving on Thursday."

Thus dismissed, Sir George had no recourse but to make his way to the refreshment table to procure the requested orgeat, pausing first to direct a lingering glance at Rosalind with his kind brown eyes, a glance that was returned with equal warmth.
 

Lord Dearborn did not miss the exchange and wore a pensive expression as he excused himself to claim his next partner.
 

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"M
AMA
,
HOW
could you say that?" demanded Rosalind with a spirit that startled both of her parents and Ellie, as well. "You know perfectly well that I am not engaged for every dance, and I think it was odious of you to send poor Sir George off like that with a flea in his ear, especially as he only just arrived in Town!"

Mrs. Winston-Fitts gaped at her darling daughter's unwonted outburst, but quickly gathered her wits enough to say, "I did no such thing. I merely asked the man to fetch me a glass of orgeat. There was nothing in the least uncivil about it."

"Perhaps we can make it up by allowing him a dance with Rosalind later on," suggested her husband, his dark eyes twinkling. Ellie glanced at Uncle Emmett, trying to divine his thoughts and, as usual, failing utterly. Could it be that he favoured Sir George's suit, or was he merely trying to set up Aunt Mabel's back she wondered. One seemed as likely as the other.

Mrs. Winston-Fitts clearly did not care for her husband's suggestion, but gave in ungraciously. "Oh, very well, if that is what you wish. He is a neighbour, after all."

"And a very old friend," agreed Mr. Winston-Fitts. "That is settled, then."

"I'll put him down for the fourth, then, for I am already engaged for the next two," said Rosalind happily. As she finished speaking, her next partner, Viscount Montforth, came to claim her. At once, she was her usual, tongue-tied self.
 

Ellie watched her cousin depart for the dance floor, marvelling at the change she had just witnessed in her. She had known Sir George had a fondness for Rosalind —indeed, all the neighbourhood had known that— but she had never suspected that Rosalind returned his feelings. Perhaps Rosalind was merely homesick, and welcomed a familiar face from Warwickshire, but to Ellie it had appeared to be more than that.

When Sir George returned with Mrs. Winston- Fitts's orgeat a few minutes later, he bowed formally to Ellie, requesting that she grant him the next dance. She agreed at once.

"Thank you, Sir George, I should be delighted. If you would still care for a dance with my cousin, she has discovered that she has the next one after that free, after all." She was not about to allow her aunt to renege on her promise.

The portly squire's face lit up, making him almost handsome. "How marvellous!" he said. But then, ever the gentleman, he turned his whole attention to his current partner. "Shall we, Miss O'Day?" He extended his arm.

Ellie inclined her head in mock formality and accompanied him to the floor, where the next set was forming. The movements of the dance did not allow much opportunity for conversation, but Sir George did manage to ask her at one point whether Miss Winston-Fitts was yet betrothed. Ellie was able to reassure him on that point and was dismayed by the expression of relief that spread across Sir George's earnest countenance. She wished she could envisage as much hope for his suit as he apparently did.

Lord Dearborn was standing near the Winston- Fittses when Ellie and Rosalind returned from the floor, engaging them in desultory conversation. Upon learning that Rosalind was engaged to Sir George for the next dance, he gallantly turned to Ellie with an elegant bow.

"Will you do me the honour, Miss O'Day?" he asked.

Ellie knew it was simple politeness that prompted him to ask, but her heart began to beat faster nonetheless. "Thank you, my lord," she replied, no more able to come up with a witty remark than her cousin. To further her agitation, the orchestra struck up the strains of a waltz.

Without hesitation, Lord Dearborn swept her into the dance, and Ellie discovered that he made an excellent partner. She followed his steps effortlessly, meanwhile desperately trying to think of something inconsequential to say. It was not in her nature to remain silent for long.

"I see you were able to recall my name, my lord," she finally said, glancing up at him. She would
not
let him see how he unsettled her!

His brows rose. "Are you implying that I had forgotten it?" he asked, the glint in his eyes daring her to pursue the topic.

"In the Park this morning, I could not help but notice how studiously you avoided addressing me directly," she told him. "I found it more comfortable to suppose you had forgotten my name than that you found me such an antidote that you could not bear to look at me."

The Earl regarded her in surprise for a moment, then began to chuckle. "I can scarcely deny it now, can I, Miss O'Day? Very well, I confess. Your uncle had just refreshed my memory before I led you out. Are you satisfied at forcing me to admit to such a
faux pas
as forgetting a lady's name?"

"Perfectly," she replied, grey eyes twinkling. He gazed down at her speculatively for a moment, the beginnings of an answering twinkle in his own deep blue eyes, but said nothing.

They danced in silence for a few moments, then, "Who is that Bellamy fellow?" asked the Earl abruptly.

Ellie blinked up at him. "Sir George? He is the squire of the district in Warwickshire where the Winston-Fittses live, on the outskirts of Birmingham."

"Ah." Lord Dearborn nodded. "Miss Winston-Fitts seemed deuced glad to see him," he commented after a brief pause.

Ellie regarded him cautiously. Would the thought of a rival cool his ardour for Rosalind, or increase it? she wondered. And which ought she to hope for? "He is a great friend of the family," she said noncommittally. "Rosalind has known him since she was a child." He might draw what conclusions he would from that; she would neither confirm nor deny his obvious suspicion.

"I see." The Earl said nothing more for the remainder of their waltz, beyond politely expressing his pleasure in dancing with her at its conclusion.

"And I thank you, my lord," said Ellie in response. "It was kind in you to take pity on a wallflower."

"Never that, Miss O'Day, surely," he replied, with another searching look at her. "Perhaps you will honour me again before the evening is over."

"Perhaps," said Ellie, lifting her chin. Surely, she thought in sudden alarm, he did not think she had been angling for another dance? If he did ask, she doubted her ability to refuse him.

The Earl merely bowed, however, and moved off in search of whatever young lady he was promised to for the next set. Ellie breathed a sigh of relief. What was it about Lord Dearborn that caused her wits to go a-begging?
 

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As the evening progressed, Ellie was surprised to find herself by no means without partners. Though she had no doubt that most of them offered to lead her out only upon discovering that Rosalind's card was full—as it was by the fifth set—she nevertheless enjoyed herself immensely.
 

It seemed no time at all had passed before the supper dance arrived at midnight. Glancing at the card dangling from her wrist, Ellie was amazed to discover that all her remaining dances were spoken for. Sir George had requested the supper dance, she recalled, after finding that Lord Dearborn had already engaged Rosalind for that set.

"Miss O'Day! Here you are," puffed Sir George, hurrying up at that moment. "It is so crowded in here that one can scarce breathe, let alone find anyone."
 

Not surprisingly, the orchestra struck up another waltz for the couples who would be going in to supper together. Though he concealed it quickly, Ellie noticed the regret that passed fleetingly across Sir George's face and knew that he was wishing that it were Rosalind instead of herself he held in his arms. The thought did not offend her in the least, however; as a matter of fact, on catching sight of Rosalind and Lord Dearborn dancing together on the far side of the room, she found she heartily shared his wish.

"I hear that Lady Sefton is famous for her supper table," she said in an attempt to divert Sir George's thoughts, as well as her own. "I vow, I am quite famished after all this exercise."

Sir George made a courteous reply, and they determinedly conversed on that topic and others equally safe until the music ceased. Passing through the archway to where the tables for supper were set out, they found most of the seats already taken. Glancing around in hopes of spotting someone she knew, Ellie saw Rosalind seated alone at a table for four, motioning eagerly to them. Without stopping to consult her escort, Ellie moved at once in her direction.

"Do please join us, Ellie, Sir George," said Rosalind eagerly as they drew near. Ellie noticed that her colour was unusually high. "Lord Dearborn has already gone to fetch plates from the buffet."

"I shall do likewise, then," said Sir George, after a courtly bow to Rosalind.

"Thank heavens you are to sit with me, Ellie," whispered Rosalind as Sir George trotted off in the direction of the heavily laden buffet tables. "I was ready to sink at the idea of trying to think of things to say to Lord Dearborn all through supper." Then, after a slight pause, "Sir George is looking well, don't you think?"

"He certainly is," agreed Ellie, hiding a smile. "Many of the young ladies here tonight have seemed to think so." She watched her cousin closely as she made the seemingly offhand remark.

Rosalind paled slightly, causing Ellie to despise herself at once. "Have... have they?" Rosalind asked in an almost stricken voice. "Has he danced with very many of them, then?"

"No, dear, I was teasing," said Ellie quickly. "He has danced very little, that I could see, and seems to have spent most of the evening following you with his eyes." It was a mystery to Ellie how her cousin could possibly prefer the plump, prosaic Sir George over the dashing Lord Dearborn, but that she did was plain. Rosalind's next statement enlightened her.

"I feel so... so
safe
around Sir George," she confessed, her eyes revealing her relief at Ellie's words. "He never teases, or flirts, or says things that I have to decipher for double meanings."

Ellie had to agree that there was certainly nothing the least bit threatening about Sir George. Feeling safe with a man was not precisely the same thing as being in love with him, however. Before she could put that thought into words, the gentlemen returned to the table bearing plates overflowing with delicacies. Lady Sefton's reputation was well deserved, it appeared.

Lord Dearborn had struck up a conversation with Sir George on the way back to the table in hopes of discovering more about his unlikely rival. He had not been deceived by Miss O'Day's vague answers to his questions earlier. It had been patently obvious that Miss Winston-Fitts regarded the man as more than an old family friend. He wondered for a moment about Miss O'Day's motives in hiding her cousin's
tendre
for the squire from him. Most likely, they were the same as her aunt's —to secure the better match, namely himself, for the beauteous Rosalind.

In spite of his intention to dislike Sir George Bellamy, the Earl quickly found that the man was perfectly pleasant and polite, with none of the toad-eating tendencies he might have expected from a country squire newly arrived in Town. Sir George's manner was natural and his conversation sensible, if not particularly stimulating. Lord Dearborn decided to probe deeper.

"Do you make a lengthy stay in London, Sir George?" he asked.