Lord Dearborn's Destiny (8 page)

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Hyde Park at five o'clock was thronged with those members of the fashionable world who deemed it a social necessity to assemble at that hour to see and be seen. Carriages and phaetons jostled with equestrians and pedestrians for space on the crowded paths.

Ellie looked about her with interest, taking in the panoply before them. She herself was feeling exceptionally elegant in a cambric walking dress of rose pink. The fact that the dress had belonged to Rosalind last year in no way detracted from her pleasure in it, for it became her colouring admirably and she knew it. As she observed the assortment of Society abroad in the Park, she was pleased to recognize quite a few faces, including Mrs. Millworth, whom she had met earlier that afternoon and liked quite well.

Mrs. Millworth had apparently spotted them, too, and strolled forward, along with three other ladies with whom she had been conversing. "Mrs. Winston-Fitts, Miss O' Day, Miss Winston-Fitts! How delightful to see you again so soon!" she exclaimed. "Have you met Lady Mountheath and her daughters?"

Introductions were made all round, and the seven ladies were soon in the midst of an animated discussion of fashion and gossip. Ellie quickly realized that Lady Mountheath and her daughters were especially fascinated with the latter, equipped as they were with an apparently inexhaustible supply of
on dits
to relate, primarily of the malicious variety. She was just deciding that she had no particular wish to become more intimate with them when Lord Dearborn drove up in a dashing royal blue high-perch phaeton.

"Give you good afternoon, ladies," he called down. "What a charming tableau you make, grouped like that. Might I prevail on you to spoil the effect somewhat by allowing Miss Winston-Fitts to take a turn about the Park with me?"

Rosalind eyed the precarious-looking vehicle with some apprehension, but her mother was already nudging her forward. "My daughter will be delighted, my lord," Mrs. Winston-Fitts said for her. "We shall go on well enough till her return, I doubt not."

Lord Dearborn's groom alighted and assisted Rosalind into the seat beside the Earl. She cast one fearful glance back towards her mother and cousin before he whipped up his pair and set off at a sedate trot, threading his way between the other conveyances on the choked carriage path.

"I see that Miss Rosalind already has the elusive Lord Dearborn in her pocket," remarked Lady Mountheath waspishly as the phaeton moved away. "You are to be congratulated." Her daughters, Miss Lucy and Miss Fanny, were in their second and third Seasons respectively, and neither had yet had the luxury of refusing a single offer.

"Hardly in her pocket, my lady," replied Mrs. Winston-Fitts complacently, "but he does seem most attentive, I must admit. Perhaps you noticed last night at Lady Sefton's that he took her in to supper?"

That Lady Mountheath had was evident by the tightening of her smile. "Such a quiet, unassuming girl," she said sourly. "I have never encouraged such missishness in my own daughters, but I must say that it seems to become yours."

Mrs. Winston-Fitts was stricken momentarily speechless by this attack, but Ellie was not similarly affected. "Yes, I have noticed that Miss Fanny and Miss Lucy have no trouble expressing their opinions on any subject —or person," she said sweetly. "It is a pity that all gentlemen do not recognize the undoubted charm of such openness."

Lady Mountheath raised her lorgnette to examine this unexpected adversary. "Indeed, Miss O'Day," she said. "I have always abhorred anything akin to artifice in a young lady, to include false modesty —and cynicism."

Mrs. Millworth broke in with an animated description of some of the newest purchases for Carlton House in an obvious effort to avert any further unpleasantness, but the tension between Lady Mountheath and Miss O'Day did not noticeably abate. A few minutes later, Lord Dearborn and Rosalind completed their circuit and pulled to a halt alongside the group.

As Rosalind was handed down, Mrs. Millworth suggested that she and her original companions walk on. Lady Mountheath, however, apparently felt that her girls had been insulted and that some recompense was due them.

"I trust you had a scintillating discourse with your companion, my lord?" she asked Lord Dearborn archly. "Truly, I cannot think of another young lady with quite Miss Winston-Fitts's talent for conversation. Her wit is legendary."

Before the startled Earl could reply, Ellie said wickedly, "That is doubtless because she only speaks when she has something worthwhile to say, my lady, unlike some I could name. It is the quality, rather than the quantity, of words spoken that denotes true wit."

"Well said, Miss O'Day, and I heartily agree," said Lord Dearborn before Lady Mountheath could reply. "Too many people confuse excess verbiage with intelligence, but any goose can make noise."

Lady Mountheath opened and closed her mouth several times before squawking in a strangled voice that sounded remarkably goose-like, "I shall bid you good-day then, my lord. Come, girls." Turning, she herded her daughters ahead of her, strengthening the barnyard image.

"I never did care much for that woman," remarked Lord Dearborn conversationally once she was out of earshot.

"She has the most vicious tongue I have ever heard," said Ellie heatedly. "I pray you will not regard anything she said, Rosalind."

Rosalind, who had stood as though frozen at her mother's side throughout the exchange, murmured, "Thank you, Ellie. I—I can't understand why she should dislike me so."

"It is perfectly obvious that she is motivated by jealousy," said Ellie roundly. "I can well see why, with those two hatchet-faced daughters of hers."

"Ellie!" exclaimed Rosalind, aghast, though Lord Dearborn seemed hard pressed to stifle a chuckle.

"Very well, I suppose I should not have said that," admitted Ellie, "but I cannot be sorry, for their tongues were very nearly as poisonous as hers. I fear I shall never develop the taste for gossip that appears to be
de rigueur
for Town life."

"That will do, Elinor," Mrs. Winston-Fitts said sharply. "I agree that Lady Mountheath was unconscionably rude, but you will not mend matters by being even more so. It is a sad truth that she is highly placed in Society and that her opinion carries some weight. We must be thankful, I suppose, that your entree to Almack's is already assured. It is rather too late for her to turn the patronesses against you."

"She could not if she tried," said Lord Dearborn knowingly. "Sally Jersey detests the woman and would be more prone to receive someone based on her censure than on her recommendation. I must commend you, Miss O'Day, for your valiant defence of Miss Winston-Fitts. She has a staunch ally in you." His smile was warmer than any he had yet directed her way, and Ellie felt her heart lurch.

"Rosalind is a dear friend, as well as my cousin, my lord. I could hardly do less for her," she said rather breathlessly.

"I am glad to see that she has such a friend." He regarded her earnestly for a long moment. Then, turning abruptly to the other ladies, he said, "Will I see you all tomorrow night at Almack's?" At their various nods and murmurs of agreement, he added, mainly to Rosalind, "I pray you will not be disappointed at your first sight of the rooms." With that enigmatic comment, he took his leave of them.

While Mrs. Millworth explained that the hall and the refreshments at Almack's were frequently disparaged by the more fastidious, Ellie gazed after Lord Dearborn's phaeton. Would he remember his half promise to dance with her? "Staunch" and "valiant" were hardly lover-like words, but he had approved of her, and that was enough... for now.
 

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F
ORREST
SLIPPED
a finger beneath his cravat, certain that he had somehow tied it tighter than usual. This was his first visit to Almack's in two or three years, as the establishment, for all its vaunted social sanctity, was not among his favourite places to spend an evening. Of course, if he intended to shackle himself to Miss Winston-Fitts he would have to get used to this sort of thing, he told himself. Surely his constitution could manage twelve Wednesday nights out of the year enduring stale bread and butter and tepid lemonade for the sake of a
nonpareil
like her.

In spite of such bracing speeches to himself, the Earl was already beginning to waver when the Winston-Fittses arrived. However, immediately upon seeing Rosalind, resplendent in white satin overlaid with pale blue net, he felt his resolve to see it through strengthened. Miss O'Day was looking well also, he noted irrelevantly, in a canary silk gown that brought out the highlights in her dark hair. Really, it
was
almost a pity that petite brunettes were not in his style.

Moving forward, he greeted Mr. and Mrs. Winston-Fitts before bowing over Rosalind's hand. "I am delighted to welcome you on your first visit to Almack's, Miss Winston-Fitts. And you, as well, Miss O'Day. Might I prevail on each of you to honour me with an early dance?"
 

Rosalind looked more frightened than delighted at the prospect, and by Almack's in general, he thought, but she assented readily enough. Miss O'Day, on the other hand, was looking about her with great interest.

"If Miss Winston-Fitts will oblige me with the first dance, dare I hope that you will reserve the second for me, Miss O'Day?" he asked.

Ellie looked up at him with a smile. She was enjoying her first view of the celebrated Almack's immensely, in spite of its relative plainness, which she had been warned about by Mrs. Millworth. Simply being here at all was far beyond anything she had ever dreamed of, and she intended to enjoy it fully.
 

"Certainly, my lord," she replied merrily to Lord Dearborn. "Dancing is what one does here, is it not?"

The Earl assented that it was, for the most part. "There are a few card games to be had, but the stakes are too low to tempt the better players," he informed her.

"And ladies do not indulge in them?" she asked half-seriously.

He shook his head, regarding her curiously. "Not at Almack's. Do you play at whist, by chance, Miss O'Day?"

"It has been two or three years, my lord, but I was once considered quite tolerable at it. I would be interested to discover if I retain any shred of my skill." She gave an exaggerated sigh. "But 'twill have to be another time, I apprehend."

"None of the Winston-Fittses play?" he asked, glancing back to Rosalind, who stood listening to their banter in silence. She silently shook her head even as Ellie responded.

"No, my aunt has an aversion to cards and so has never encouraged Rosie to learn. My uncle may possibly play, but never at home, I assure you." She glanced quickly over her shoulder to ascertain that Aunt Mabel was not attending.

Lord Dearborn chuckled. "Well, it is to be hoped that you might receive an opportunity to revive your skills in the near future, Miss O'Day. Miss Winston-Fitts, I shall return for you when the orchestra signals the first set." Bowing, he moved away, leaving Ellie to calm her unruly pulse, which had quickened without her permission during her brief conversation with the Earl.

For her part, Rosalind had been surreptitiously watching the door during the Earl's conversation with her cousin. Several of her erstwhile admirers were arriving, to her mother's gratification, if not her own. After Lord Dearborn moved off, she turned to Ellie.

"He seemed very kind, don't you think?" she asked. "You were right, Ellie, that Lord Dearborn is most handsome. Do you not look forward to your dance with him?"

Had Ellie noticed Rosalind's uncharacteristically sly expression, it might have warned her that her cousin was hatching some sort of plan. Instead, Ellie's heart sank at her cousin's praise of the Earl. It appeared that she was not immune to his charms, after all!

"Certainly, Rosie," she managed to reply. "But do not forget that it was you he engaged for the first set. Surely that is a signal honour, and one he has paid you before."

Rosalind smiled enigmatically. "Yes, I suppose so. Look, here come Mr. Wilshire and Lord Gresham."
 

Private conversation became impossible after that, for Rosalind was surrounded by her usual throng of eager beaux and forced to pay shy attention to each. Ellie was similarly besieged by admirers, though not in such great numbers. By the time the first strains of music sounded, both young ladies were engaged for the first several sets.

"Miss Winston-Fitts, my dance, I believe." Lord Dearborn appeared as though by magic, skilfully extricating Rosalind from the crowd about her.

Ellie, on the arm of Lord Pelton, followed them onto the floor to take her place for the opening minuet. Lord Pelton flirted with her at every opportunity during the old-fashioned dance, but Ellie's attention kept wandering farther down the set to where Rosalind and Lord Dearborn were dancing.

Was
her cousin finally softening towards him? she wondered. Her earlier remark certainly had implied that. Ellie had little doubt that if Rosalind were to show herself receptive to the Earl's attentions he would offer for her without delay. She suspected that it was only an admirable reluctance to press his suit in the face of her apparent indifference that had prevented him from doing so already. He must know that Rosalind would not be permitted to refuse him, and would not wish to force her to an unwelcome match.

Ellie steadfastly ignored the heaviness that had descended on her heart and smiled brilliantly up at Lord Pelton in response to his next outrageous compliment. He
was
a baron, after all, and she could scarcely afford to whistle such a suitor down the wind in her present situation, even if he was well past forty. Despite her brave words to Rosalind last week, Ellie was by no means certain that she would have the option of living in Ireland after her cousin's wedding, and even a loveless marriage would surely be preferable to living indefinitely on sufferance in her aunt's household.