Lord Dearborn's Destiny (9 page)

In spite of herself, Ellie's spirits lightened when Lord Dearborn claimed her for the next dance. He was amusing to talk to, even if he could never care for her in the way she was finally admitting to herself that she cared for him. To her surprise, the orchestra struck up the strains of a waltz as she took his arm.

"Oh, dear," she said, suppressing a surge of disappointment. "Do not the patronesses have to give permission before I may waltz here?" Lady Sefton was the only patroness she was at all acquainted with, and she had not noticed whether she were even present tonight.

"Indeed they do, and the Countess Lieven and Lady Jersey were kind enough to do just that after I requested to be allowed to dance it with you," he replied imperturbably. "I quite enjoyed our waltz at Lady Sefton's, and desired to repeat the experience."

"How... how did you know that this would be a waltz?" she asked curiously. Mrs. Millworth had told her that every ball at Almack's began with a minuet, but she had not thought that the other dances were so ordered.

"I have certain, ah, connections," answered the Earl with a twinkle. "Shall we, Miss O'Day?"

Since he had apparently thought of everything, Ellie went willingly into his light clasp for the dance that some still considered mildly scandalous, her errant heart beating a giddy tattoo. He had requested the waltz so that he could dance it with her? It seemed unbelievable in the extreme, but no doubt he had his reasons.

"Does Sir George Bellamy not have the entree here, Miss O'Day?" he asked.

So! He wished to waltz with her so that he could question her further about Rosalind's friendship with Sir George, she thought. The mystery was solved, thought not entirely to her satisfaction. "I do not know, my lord, but I would doubt it."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because he is not here," she replied simply.

Lord Dearborn chuckled. "A most logical young lady, I see. No doubt that quality serves you well at whist."

"I like to think so," she returned with a smile. "Tell me, my lord, do you play? You seem inordinately interested in my level of skill but have revealed nothing about your own. I suspect you are no novice at it yourself."

"I am found out!" he said in mock despair. "I had hoped to engage you in a game for outrageously high stakes and win quite a fortune before you discovered that."

Ellie had to laugh. "I am not so green as that, my lord. Nor would I gamble more than I can afford to lose, so I fear that the stakes would be a sore disappointment to a gentleman like yourself —on the order of a penny or two." She spoke lightly, not stopping to consider that her extreme poverty could hardly be considered an asset.

Forrest did indeed note what her words revealed, but was chiefly struck by her utter lack of embarrassment as she admitted to it. When he had referred to her as "valiant" yesterday, he had seemingly been more right than he knew. Miss O'Day obviously faced an uncertain future, but she did so cheerfully, with both eyes open. Courage was a quality Forrest had always admired, wherever he saw it, and his respect for this young woman rose even higher.

He had just boasted of having a certain amount of influence, he reflected. Perhaps he could use it to benefit Miss O'Day. The Earl had never been one to play the matchmaker, but he could not help but think that a good marriage might be just the thing for a girl of her mettle. Mentally, he went over some of the eligible bachelors he knew, but found none that met the standards he felt such a sprightly, intelligent girl deserved. Clearly, this plan would require more thought.

"A skillful player may parlay a penny or two into pounds, I have found," he said with a smile. "I look forward to facing you across the cards, Miss O'Day, even if the stakes are imaginary." To his surprise, he found that he meant it.

Though Forrest's original intent in engaging Miss O'Day for a waltz had been to discover more of Miss Winston-Fitts through her, the dance somehow ended without her name ever arising between them. Curiously, he did not realize it until long afterwards, when he was again dancing with the beauteous Rosalind.

"Your cousin is very amusing," he commented, breaking their customary silence.

Rosalind smiled, a breathtaking sight. "Oh, yes! Ellie is quite the cleverest girl I have ever known," she agreed at once.

"She seems remarkably content with her lot in life," he hazarded.

"Oh, Ellie is almost never blue-devilled, whatever demands my mother makes upon her," Rosalind informed him. "I believe she could be happy working as a scullery maid."

Forrest quite failed to notice that Miss Winston-Fitts had just favoured him with more words together than she had ever done before. Instead, he was struggling with the disturbing picture of Miss O'Day toiling as a servant to the autocratic Mrs. Winston-Fitts.

"Surely she has prospects open to her?" he asked.
 

"She has made some mention of removing to her grandfather in Ireland," said Rosalind. "I have tried to convince her that she would be happier married, but she seems to think that unlikely, though Lord Pelton has been quite attentive."

The Earl missed the speculative look Rosalind directed at him as she shared this bit of news. The thought of Miss O'Day in Ireland cheered him no more than that of her married to Lord Pelton, a man whose reputation made his own appear pristine by comparison. "Pray do not press her to encourage his suit, Miss Winston-Fitts," he finally said. "I am persuaded that a young lady of Miss O'Day's capabilities can do better."

Rosalind said no more, well satisfied with the progress of her plan.

On the far side of the room, Ellie was sitting out her first dance of the evening, grateful for the chance to catch her breath. She was finding it more difficult tonight to convince herself that the gentlemen who had danced with her did so only because they could not engage Rosalind. Indeed, at least two or three had asked her first. While she was gratified by her apparent success, a feeling of incompleteness, of something not quite right, marred her usual cheerfulness. Gazing out across the room from her chair near the wall, she caught sight of Rosalind waltzing with Lord Dearborn and her vague discontent suddenly took on a recognizable form.

Jealous? Am I actually jealous of Rosalind?
The idea was distasteful in the extreme. Surely, she loved her cousin and only wanted what was best for her. But there it was. Seeing Rosalind with Lord Dearborn, she felt a welling of unpleasant emotion that could only signal the advent of that hateful, green-ey'd monster, as Shakespeare had named it. Unhappily, she watched the two of them moving about the floor and realized with a fresh pang that Rosalind was actually speaking to the Earl, showing far more animation than had previously been her wont with him.

Ellie chided herself fiercely for her foolish infatuation with someone as unattainable to one in her circumstances as the Earl of Dearborn. He was enjoyable to be with, of course, but that was no excuse for her silliness in fancying herself in love with the man. Perhaps, if she could stifle her inappropriate feelings for him, they could at least be friends. Yes, that would surely be her best course —the only one that might offer her any peace of mind, any future happiness at all. For it was increasingly apparent that Rosalind was beginning to return his regard, in which case their marriage could not be far distant.

She nodded determinedly to herself, and when Mr. Mulhaney stepped up a moment later to claim her for the next dance, she favoured him with a brilliant smile. Ellie refused to allow any ridiculous infatuation to spoil her first visit to Almack's, or her one London Season.
 

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"When are we to hear the happy announcement?" asked Lady Jersey of Lord Dearborn as the evening drew near to a close. "It must be a powerful inducement that has brought you back to us after so long an absence, and I believe I can guess what it is." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively at him and nodded in the direction of the entrance, where the Winston-Fittses were waiting for their carriage.

Forrest smiled. He knew that Sally Jersey's tongue could be acerbic when she chose, but he had never been on the sharp end of it himself and held her in some affection, as did his mother. "Miss Winston-Fitts is undeniably lovely," he admitted, "and I'll not deny she comes closer to my ideal than any lady I've met for the past six or seven Seasons."

"Which is all you've spent in London," rejoined Lady Jersey, nodding wisely. "Of course, there is more to an enduring match than a pretty face, but I'm sure you are aware of that. Doubtless the young lady has additional charms to recommend her?"

"Indubitably." She was blatantly fishing for more information, but Forrest deflected her question with one of his own. "What do you know of the cousin, Miss O'Day? I presume you discovered something of her background before inviting her here." If he was to help the girl, he must know a little bit about her, he told himself.

"Yes, isn't she a treasure?" Lady Jersey exclaimed, momentarily diverted. "She has quite taken the gentlemen by storm, though I doubt that she realizes it yet. Her humour and wit more than make up for her lack of the more obvious sort of beauty. And her family is positively ancient! Winston-Fitts through her mother, of course— quite a toast twenty or so years back, Maria Sefton tells me. And her father was Lord Kerrigan's second son, one of the oldest Irish titles. It is a pity she has not the fortune to complement such impeccable bloodlines."
 

Lady Jersey was waxing eloquent, and Forrest had no particular desire to stop the flow.

"I daresay she will make a creditable match even without it," she continued. "The more thoughtful gentlemen are already commenting on her cleverness and cheerful disposition, traits not to be despised in a wife, surely."

"Indeed not," agreed the Earl. "Do you mention any gentleman in particular?" He found himself hoping it would not be Pelton.

Lady Jersey shot him a penetrating glance. "Mr. Mulhaney has made no secret of his admiration, but of course he hasn't a feather to fly with and cannot afford to marry where there is no money. I noticed also that both Lord Pelton and Sir Martin Coates danced twice with her, and neither of them needs to marry a fortune. I daresay she will have many suitors to choose among— nearly as many as the dazzling Miss Winston-Fitts."

"Thank you, ma'am," said Forrest. While it was what he had hoped to hear, her disclosures did not give him the satisfaction he had expected. "Since my future is likely to include Miss Winston-Fitts, I thought it would behoove me to discover what I could of her connections. She appears to hold Miss O'Day in great affection. I had thought to do something for the girl, to please Miss Winston-Fitts, but from what you say it may prove unnecessary. I appreciate your candour." Bowing, he took his leave.

Lady Jersey watched him speculatively as he made his way to the door. She did not doubt for a moment that Lord Dearborn might be able to do something for Miss O'Day— perhaps far more than he intended at present. For now, however, she would keep her own counsel. The Earl was quite a favourite of hers, and not even for the sake of being first with so extraordinary an
on dit
would she jeopardize his future happiness with an untimely word.
 

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M
ABEL
W
INSTON
-Fitts looked about her in satisfaction. All was in readiness for her dinner party, Rosalind's formal introduction to Society. The flowers were delivered and arranged, the parlour polished and dusted to a fare-thee-well, and the dining table set for twenty-four with the best china and crystal. What did it matter that her daughter's debut was not to be a ball? After two balls in three days, she had convinced herself that a more intimate grouping was far preferable and more conducive to prompting a certain gentleman to declare his feelings for Rosalind.

That he was intending to do so she could no longer doubt. Why, that very day she had received an invitation from his mother, the Countess of Dearborn, for the family to attend a house party at his estate. Surely that indicated a desire to introduce his intended to his mother as well as to give Rosalind, and her parents, a glimpse of her future home! Yes, Mrs. Winston-Fitts was in very high spirits, indeed.

"We are dressed, Mama. Is there anything you wish us to do?" Rosalind asked as she and Ellie descended from their bedchambers.

"Just be your lovely self, my angel," replied Mrs. Winston-Fitts, turning to regard her daughter fondly.

Rosalind looked superb in her new evening gown of silvery white sarsenet. Her golden hair was piled high on her head and interwoven with tiny white orchids, making her look like a virgin goddess.

Mrs. Winston-Fitts's smile faded slightly as she turned to inspect her niece. That lilac silk was to have been Rosalind's, but when they had received the vouchers to Almack's, Elinor had come up one dress short. Unwilling to have even a poor relation disgrace them at that hallowed establishment, she had directed her niece to wear Rosalind's yellow silk, necessitating hurried instructions to the dressmaker to have this lilac one made to fit Elinor's dimensions rather than Rosalind's. With her shining dark curls gathered into a loose, fashionable knot on the top of her head, she looked more attractive than her aunt would have thought possible for such a little dab of a thing.

"You'll do, Elinor," she finally said, earning a startled glance from her niece at the unexpected praise. "Pray try to comport yourself with dignity, and refrain from fidgeting or bouncing about. And speak as little as possible —this is to be Rosalind's night, remember."

Ellie nodded obediently. "I shall do my best, Aunt Mabel," she said. Truly, she had not the smallest wish to detract from Rosalind's debut.

"I have noticed one or two gentlemen paying you marked attentions," continued her aunt. "Lord Pelton will be amongst the guests, and I have seated you by him. Mind everything I've told you and you may be lucky enough to receive an offer." Her smile soured, as though she found the thought of her niece as a baroness somehow distasteful.