Lord Dearborn's Destiny (10 page)

Ellie tried to show a proper enthusiasm at the prospect. At least as Lady Pelton she would no longer be subject to Aunt Mabel's whims. "I'll be everything that is proper, ma'am," she promised with tolerable cheerfulness.

"I take leave to doubt that, but I do hope you will try. Ah, Emmett, here you are at last! Let us go down to the front door at once. Our guests will be arriving at any moment."

"You look very fetching tonight, Ellie," her uncle informed her in an undertone before descending. "Our little dark horse may yet win the race this Season." Leaving Ellie to ponder the meaning of that remark, he followed his wife to the ground floor.
 

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"Lord Dearborn, do try this turbot —it is Cook's specialty," cooed Mrs. Winston-Fitts to the Earl, who was seated on her right. "And will you not have a bit more breast of veal?" She motioned to the footman to bring the platter back to that end of the long table.

"Thank you, no, ma'am," responded Lord Dearborn, negating her order to the footman with a quick shake of his head. "I am endeavouring to ration my appetite that I shall be able to partake of every delicacy you offer." He turned to smile meaningfully at Miss Winston-Fitts on his other side as he spoke.

Rosalind kept her eyes on her plate, but her mother seized upon the compliment at once with a trilling laugh. "Oh, la! How clever, my lord. Of course, nothing I have planned for the table can match my daughter, but you are wise not to stuff yourself just yet. There are still two more courses, with three or four removes to each. I dare swear our Cook is amongst the finest in London, though temperamental as all these Frenchmen are." She spoke proudly, and at sufficient volume for the majority of her guests to hear.

Forrest smiled politely and murmured another pleasantry about the food before turning back to Rosalind. "Have I mentioned how lovely you are looking tonight, Miss Winston-Fitts?" he asked, though he clearly recalled complimenting her on her appearance when he had arrived. His only choice, however, was between conversing with her or her mother, and this seemed as good an opening remark as any.

"Yes, thank you, my lord," she replied, not quite meeting his gaze. Forrest saw with regret that her unwonted volubility of the night before had apparently subsided already.

"Have you been to the theatre yet?" he then asked, still unwilling to submit himself to his other dinner partner's discourse.

"Not yet, my lord. We go next week."

"Ah. I have no doubt you will enjoy it immensely."
For it will require no conversation whatsoever,
he added silently.

Instantly berating himself for the disloyal thought, he tried the subject that had spurred her last night to become more communicative. "I see your mother has placed Miss O'Day next to Lord Pelton. Is she trying for a match there, do you think?" He kept his voice low, though it was unlikely that his hostess, enthusiastically extolling the virtues of the stewed eels to Lord Ellerby, on her left, would overhear him.

Rosalind followed his glance to where Ellie sat near the middle of the table, between Lord Pelton and Sir George Bellamy. "My mother may wish it, but I think Ellie may favour someone else," she confided, looking sidelong at him.

Forrest missed the look, watching Miss O'Day as she spoke animatedly to Sir George. Something she said made him laugh, and the Earl frowned. Could it be the squire that she preferred? Perhaps he had misread the signals and it was Miss O'Day rather than Miss Winston-Fitts who held more than a friendly affection for Sir George. Certainly, the man seemed to treat her with exceptional kindness. No doubt that would be an admirable solution to two different problems, he thought discontentedly.

"I am glad to see that she is not encouraging Pelton, at any rate," he remarked, wondering why he was not more pleased at the thought of a match between Miss O'Day and Sir George. "The man has a rather unsavoury reputation, I am afraid."

"Oh! I... I shall warn her of it, my lord," Rosalind assured him, with a half smile at this promising show of concern.

"That might be wise," he agreed, turning his full attention back to his intended. What a bewitching smile Miss Winston-Fitts had.

"Lord Dearborn, it was vastly obliging of your mama to invite us to her house party," broke in Mrs. Winston-Fitts at that moment, in a voice that could doubtless be heard in the kitchens. "I vow, I am quite agog at the prospect of seeing your estate. Huntington Park it is called, is it not?"

He assented that it was, and was subjected to a lengthy treatise on what his hostess had been able to discover about his ancestral home for the remainder of the first course and most of the second.

When the ladies adjourned to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to their port, Rosalind went at once to Ellie's side. "I had a rather enlightening conversation with Lord Dearborn," she said conspiratorially. Involuntarily, Ellie winced at her words. Rosalind appeared startled by her reaction and Ellie endeavoured to cover her distress with a smile.

"That is wonderful, Rosie," she said so cheerfully that Rosalind's face cleared at once. "I am so pleased that you and he seem able to converse comfortably now. If you can bring yourself to be easy in his presence, I have no doubt that the two of you will go on famously together." At that point, they were joined by Mrs. Millworth and Lady Ellerby, a pretty young matron with hair of the same bright gold as Rosalind's and the conversation perforce turned to more general topics.

Ellie was determinedly merry after that, exchanging quips with her aunt's guests or listening sympathetically to whatever tales of scandal or woe they cared to share. Never before, however, had she had to work so hard at the gaiety that normally came so naturally to her. She kept reminding herself that if she loved Rosalind as a cousin and Lord Dearborn as a friend, she should in truth feel the happiness she was trying so diligently to project, and by the time the gentlemen joined them she had almost managed to convince herself that she did.

Thus, she was able to smile brightly when the Earl approached her, her cousin's name the first words out of his mouth. "Miss Winston-Fitts tells me you all go to the theatre next week," he said. "Will Sir George perchance be a member of your party?"

Ellie clung valiantly to her smile. Couldn't the man speak of anything else? Surely he must see that he had no cause whatsoever to be jealous of poor Sir George. "I am not certain, my lord," she replied. "My aunt has not mentioned it to me."

"Ah! Perhaps I shall mention it to her, then," he said with a wink and promptly went in search of his hostess.

That tactic seemed to smack of playing foul, Ellie thought, which she would not have expected of him. Of course Sir George would not be invited if Lord Dearborn specifically requested otherwise. No doubt Aunt Mabel would extend an invitation to the Earl instead, which would ensure at least one more trying evening of watching him flirt with Rosalind.

But no, she was
happy
for Rosalind, she reminded herself quickly, and should welcome such solicitude on the part of her most eligible suitor. Pinning the corners of her mouth back up, Ellie crossed the room to join a lively debate between her uncle and Mr. Carruthers, a prominent member of Parliament, on the relative merits of the Corn Laws and soon forgot her conflicted emotions in heated political discourse.

"Your niece appears to be a girl of many parts," commented Mrs. Carruthers to her hostess a short while later. "I declare, it is so refreshing to hear a young lady express her opinions on something besides the current fashions! Though, of course, she seems well able to hold her own on that topic, as well."

"Oh, er, yes," said Mrs. Winston-Fitts, glancing around to where Ellie was now surrounded by the younger members of the party, many of whom were laughing quite immoderately. "Elinor is quite clever."

"Indeed she is, but no bluestocking for all that," agreed Mrs. Carruthers warmly. "You must be extremely proud of her, ma'am. Everyone is saying what a delight Miss O'Day is, and what an asset she is to any gathering. Hostesses will be clamouring after her, I don't doubt. Oh, you must excuse me. She is about to tell the story of the addle-pated cow, and I so wish to hear it!" She hurried away to join the group around Ellie.

Mabel Winston-Fitts thoughtfully watched her go, a slight frown marring her brow. It appeared that Elinor was again in danger of eclipsing Rosalind, in spite of all her strictures. She would have to take her aside for another talk, it would seem.
 

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Ellie was enjoying her first visit to Covent Garden far more than she had expected to. The audience was nearly as diverting as the play, making it quite obvious that most had come to be seen rather than to watch the scheduled entertainment. However,
As You Like It
was one of her favourites, and once the curtain rose she had little attention to spare for the strutting dandies or elegantly clad occupants of the boxes. Neither Edmund Kean nor Sarah Siddons were members of the cast, to her regret, but the actors were still far superior to those she had witnessed in the few country theatricals she had attended.

Seated between Lord Dearborn and Sir George Bellamy, she found it disconcertingly easy to pretend that the Earl was her escort rather than Rosalind's. Indeed, it seemed that he directed more comments on the performance to her than to her cousin, but that was likely because she had admitted earlier to being a great admirer of Shakespeare. Ellie rather doubted that Rosalind had ever read a single one of the Bard's plays, even this one that boasted her namesake.

"Watch this fellow playing the old Duke," whispered Lord Dearborn, leaning towards her again. "I saw him last autumn in
A Midsummer Night's Dream,
as Egeus. He was quite good."

Ellie had to agree the man was excellent. It was a shame he was too old to play most of the leading roles. By the time the play ended, she felt that her understanding of Shakespeare, already well above the average, had been much elevated by the Earl's informed commentary. How pleasant it would be to always have such a companion.

Abruptly, she caught herself up. As a friend, of course, only as a friend! She was quite resigned by this time that Lord Dearborn could never be more to her than that.

"A very good performance, do you not agree, Miss O'Day?" asked Sir George as the lights came up.

Ellie agreed wholeheartedly, wondering again why Aunt Mabel had included him in the party. Mrs. Winston-Fitts had by no means been encouraging Sir George before now, and besides, had not Lord Dearborn asked that he be excluded? It seemed inconceivable that her aunt might have disregarded any request of the Earl's, however, so he must not have done so, after all. Ellie wondered suddenly if Lord Dearborn could be promoting a match between herself and Sir George to safeguard Rosalind from him. At the thought, she had to stifle a giggle, so that when she turned back to Lord Dearborn at his next remark her eyes were still dancing.

"What did you say, my lord?"

"I was merely asking whether you enjoyed the play, but I can see that you did. It is a rare young lady who properly appreciates Shakespeare's humour today."
 

Since she could obviously not reveal the true cause of her mirth, Ellie made no effort to correct him. Besides, she
had
enjoyed the play enormously. And she was certain —well, almost certain —that she would have enjoyed it just as much had the Earl not been present.
 

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The next few weeks of the Season went by in a veritable blur of balls, routs, excursions and tea parties. Ellie considered herself very fortunate to be Rosalind's companion, invited everywhere with her beautiful cousin. Little did she suspect that she herself was the principal reason for most of the invitations, and that Rosalind was the addendum. Mrs. Carruthers had been quite correct in her prediction that hostesses would consider the lively, clever Miss O'Day a desirable addition to their entertainments.

Mrs. Winston-Fitts had finally given up trying to stifle her irrepressible niece, for she had reluctantly realized what Elinor seemed unaware of: that she was a social asset to the entire family. That knowledge rankled, for she would far have preferred her own daughter to be the one so sought after, but she was not so mean-spirited as to punish Elinor for what she could not help. Nor was she above taking full advantage of her niece's popularity.

The gentlemen, at least, still seemed to prefer Rosalind over her unremarkable little cousin, though Elinor
could
boast two or three improbably high-ranking suitors. Among Rosalind's admirers, Lord Dearborn was still the most persistent, though Mrs. Winston-Fitts was growing increasingly frustrated by his reluctance to come to the point. True, there were at least three others, equally wealthy if not so highly titled, who would be perfectly acceptable sons-in-law, but she had her heart set on seeing her daughter a countess.

The problem was, Rosalind still was making not the slightest push to attach Lord Dearborn —or anyone else —as a husband. True, Rosalind would doubtless accept that bucolic squire, Sir George, were he to offer, but her mother had taken some pains to be certain the opportunity could not occur. Whenever he had called, she herself had received him, and with such frigid politeness that he generally left before Rosalind knew he had arrived. His calls had been much less frequent of late.

As for Rosalind, Mrs. Winston-Fitts was becoming quite exasperated with her. She began to fear that it might even be possible, albeit barely, for her daughter to finish out the Season unbetrothed!
 

No, no, that was unthinkable. In all likelihood, Lord Dearborn was simply waiting for the more romantic setting of his mother's house party to make her an offer. He would be leaving for the country in a day or two, he had said. Of course, there was still Lady Allbeck's rout tonight. Perhaps, with some adroit manoeuvring, something might be contrived there. Not yet would she give up her hopes of seeing Rosalind a countess!