Lord Dearborn's Destiny (7 page)

"I may stay out the Season," came the reply. "In truth, though, I find London as noisy and crowded, and full of pretensions, as I remembered from my last visit some years ago. I look forward already to returning to the simpler country life."

Forrest could hardly disagree, as Sir George mirrored his own sentiments to a great extent. Still, he doggedly tried again. "Perhaps I might be able to introduce you to some Town pleasures that are generally lacking in the country," he suggested. "One of the finer gaming establishments, for example, where the stakes are high enough to be exciting and the other, er, entertainments most delectable." If Sir George could be distracted by such amusements he would have less time for pursuing Miss Winston-Fitts, he reasoned.

However, Sir George declined the bait, as Lord Dearborn had somehow suspected he would. "I think not, my lord," he replied with a perfect blend of graciousness and regret. "I discovered in my youth that such pleasures are generally hollow." Though he could not be more than a year or two the Earl's senior, Sir George spoke as though offering fatherly advice. "The simpler joys are more lasting, as you will no doubt find for yourself one day."

Forrest gave it up.

"I see you took me at my word that I was famished, Sir George," said Miss O'Day as they set the loaded plates on the table. "But whatever will you yourself eat?"

This drew a general chuckle, and the slight tension that had begun to develop between the two gentlemen dissipated. Supper was a surprisingly merry meal, with Ellie and the Earl trading quips, assisted in a quieter way by Sir George and even, surprisingly, by Rosalind on occasion.
 

As a matter of fact, Forrest had to admit that he had never seen Miss Winston-Fitts so animated, though she still appeared quiet in the extreme in comparison to her more outspoken cousin. He was enjoying himself immensely, whatever the cause, and it was with some regret that he left the group to claim his next partner when the orchestra signalled the end of the supper hour.

During a lengthy recitation by Miss Adams on the trials she had endured in her quest to obtain dancing slippers of exactly the right colour to match her new ballgown, Forrest had ample time to reflect on the evening thus far. Although he had danced twice with Miss Winston-Fitts, and the second dance a waltz, he could not say that he knew any more about her than he had at the start of the evening. Indeed, he had learned more about the lovely Rosalind from her cousin, Miss O'Day, than he had from herself.

Rosalind's retiring nature was part of her charm, he reminded himself. He could never be happy with a prattler like Miss Adams, whose conversation had now progressed to the selection of the ribbons for those elusive slippers. As he nodded politely and made some complimentary remark about her footwear, his thoughts went involuntarily to Miss O'Day. She seemed able to achieve a sort of happy medium between silence and chatter, trading barbs with ready wit or carrying on a sensible conversation without resorting to gossip or endless palaver about fashions. It was almost too bad that she was not in his style, as Miss Winston-Fitts so assuredly was.

His thoughts went again to Rosalind's greeting of Sir George Bellamy and what Miss O'Day had said about him. To be sure, there had been nothing resembling flirtation between them at the supper table, beyond the fact that Miss Winston-Fitts had shed some of her habitual shyness. Perhaps that was attributable to the fact that she simply felt more comfortable in the presence of a trusted family friend. Still, he was suddenly glad that he had not, after all, been able to obtain a third dance with her.

The music ended and Lord Dearborn, on impulse, sought out Miss O'Day for the next set. He told himself that she was probably his best source of information about Miss Winston-Fitts, though he could not deny that the prospect of matching wits with her again held a certain attraction, as well.

"Miss O'Day!" he called out, shouldering his way through the crowd of silk-and-satin-clad revellers to reach the diminutive brunette. "Might I induce you to honour me with that second dance we spoke of?"
 

She smiled but shook her head. "I'm sorry, my lord, but my card is quite full. Perhaps at the next ball we both attend."

Forrest was conscious of an unexpected pang of disappointment. "I was right, I see. You are certainly no wallflower. Do you go to Almack's on Wednesday?"

"My aunt has not spoken of it, and I don't doubt that if she were in possession of vouchers all the world would know it." She appeared not in the least downcast at the prospect of being denied access to those exalted portals.

The Earl would have prolonged his dialogue with this rather unconventional young lady had her next partner not arrived at that moment. Why could Miss Winston-Fitts not learn her little cousin's art of conversation, he wondered irrelevantly, catching sight of Rosalind going down the dance with Viscount Strathcliffe. She was lovelier than ever, he thought, though she appeared no more at ease with the Viscount than she had with himself. No, Bellamy seemed the only man outside her family with whom she was able to relax.

Lord Dearborn retired to the sidelines, contenting himself with watching Miss Winston-Fitts with her remaining partners —an enjoyable pastime. He was pleased to note that she favoured none of them with more than an occasional word or smile. By the time the evening ended, Forrest had convinced himself that the task of charming Miss Rosalind into trusting him as she did Sir George could well be a very pleasant one, indeed.
 

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W
HEN
E
LLIE
awoke the next morning, she was astonished to discover that it was almost noon. Of course, she and the Winston-Fittses had not returned home until after three o'clock in the morning, but she could not recall ever having slept so late in her life. Bouncing out of bed, she went first to the window to revel in the brightness of the spring day.
 

Reaching to pull a serviceable morning gown from the clothespress, her hand hesitated over the new riding habit. It would be a glorious day to ride in the Park, but she very much doubted that Rosalind would wish do so again today after such a late night—or even if she had been in bed by nine, for that matter. Besides, Lord Dearborn had probably completed his morning ride already.

Ellie was brought up short at the thought. Was that the real reason she wished to ride? Did she merely hope to see the Earl in the Park again? Of course, he had been most obliging last night at Lady Sefton's, not only dancing with her once but actually asking her a second time. The vexation she had felt at being forced to refuse pricked at her again.

Stop it at once!
she told herself sternly. Another dance would only have made it that much more difficult to subdue her growing attraction to the man, an attraction she could in no way afford to indulge. No matter that Rosalind appeared to prefer Sir George to the Earl; her mother intended her to become Lady Dearborn, and Ellie had seen the results of Aunt Mabel's determination on enough other occasions to have no doubt that Lady Dearborn Rosalind would become. She herself would simply have to quell any silly longings before they became strong enough to undermine her happiness.

Determinedly, she remembered the names and faces of some of the other gentlemen she had danced with at the ball. Mr. Mulhaney had been pleasant, and quite attractive, as well, with his curling dark hair and green eyes— every bit as Irish as herself, she thought. Then there was Lord Pelton, a baron, if she remembered correctly. He had danced twice with her and flirted quite outrageously, declaring her the belle of the ball, which she had enjoyed even while she knew it to be pure gammon. And Mr. Wilshire... oh, drat it! Instead of Mr. Wilshire's thin, clever face, Lord Dearborn's bronze hair and blue eyes arose before her mind's eye.

Ellie let out her breath in exasperation. Surely it must be some perversity of her nature that made her think only of the one man she could never have. Any one of the others would be a perfectly reasonable object for a
tendre,
not to mention a better match than she had ever dared to hope for. So why in blazes couldn't she concentrate on one of them?

Without another glance at the habit, she quickly buttoned herself into the morning dress, pulled a brush through her short curls and left the room to go in search of breakfast. Not surprisingly, she was the first one downstairs, but a tempting array of ham, eggs and kippered salmon had already been laid out on the sideboard in the dining room, so she helped herself. She was nearly finished when Rosalind entered the room, yawning widely.

"Gracious, you are up early, Ellie!" she exclaimed. "I vow, I don't know when I have been so tired as I was last night."

"No doubt you will get used to it," replied Ellie sagely. "Everyone keeps such hours in London, Lord Pelton told me."

"Mama says so also, but I far prefer country hours, where breakfast is in the morning, dinner by five and bedtime well before midnight," Rosalind said decisively.

"If you become a Town hostess, you will have to change that preference, I fear," Ellie pointed out. Rosalind merely sighed and proceeded to fill a plate.

Mr. and Mrs. Winston-Fitts joined them a few minutes later, he complaining that the day was already half wasted and she full of plans for the afternoon.

"We have made an excellent start," she declared, pouring out the tea. "Peters tells me that already this morning, nearly a dozen bouquets have been delivered for Rosalind." She beamed fondly on her daughter. "Doubtless we shall be swamped with callers this afternoon, as well. It will not do, however, to rest on our laurels." She looked around the table as though daring anyone to disagree. "At five, when all the world goes to Hyde Park, you, too, must be seen there, my dear."

Rosalind's face fell. "Must I ride?" she asked plaintively. "I fear it was quite obvious to Lord Dearborn yesterday that I do not do it well."

Mrs. Winston-Fitts regarded her for a moment, then made her decision. "No, walking will do just as well," she said. "Perhaps better, for then you may take brief rides round the Park with any eligible gentlemen that offer. It is quite an accepted practice and an excellent chance to increase any fledgling attachments."

Ellie unwisely interrupted her aunt's battle plan at that point. "How many attachments ought Rosalind to be encouraging, ma'am?" she asked innocently.

Her aunt swivelled round to pierce her with a gimlet eye. "The greater the number, the more offers she will have to choose from," she snapped. "Rosalind's happiness is my first concern, as it should be yours, miss." Ellie successfully managed to keep her expression serious. "Besides," continued Mrs.Winston-Fitts, "if Dearborn sees that she is greatly sought after, it is like to bring him to the point all the more quickly, for fear of losing her to another."

Ellie half expected Rosalind to voice some protest at this presumptuous ordering of her future, but her cousin remained silent. Could it be that her feelings about Lord Dearborn were beginning to change? It seemed only too likely after the attentions he had showered on her last night. Not that it would affect Ellie herself in the least, she reminded herself quickly. If Rosalind were becoming attached to the man her mother had chosen for her, it was all to the good.
 

Wasn't it?
 

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Mrs. Winston-Fitts had been quite correct: at least two dozen callers, more than half of them gentlemen, descended upon them during the course of the afternoon. Lord Dearborn was not amongst them, to Ellie's mingled disappointment and relief, though he had sent the largest bunch of flowers.
 

She was more than a little surprised to discover that several of the ladies, as well as two or three of the gentlemen, seemed as eager to make her own acquaintance as Rosalind's, and she spent a pleasant hour making new friends. As usual, Rosalind had little to say for herself and spent much of her time watching the parlour door, Ellie noticed, but whether she hoped to see Lord Dearborn walk through it or Sir George Bellamy, who was also absent, she could not have said.

The greatest mark of distinction paid them, however, came not in the form of a caller but in that of a small white envelope which was delivered just as the last one took his leave. Mrs. Winston-Fitts plucked it from the tray Peters offered her, but waited until she had said her goodbyes to Mr. Whitendon to open it. Ellie was just leaving the parlour in order to change for their walk in the Park when she was halted by a most undignified whoop from her aunt.

"Almack's!" Aunt Mabel cried, jumping up to take Rosalind by both hands and dance her round the room, a sight that made Ellie stare in bemusement. "Lady Sefton must have spoken to the other patronesses. We have vouchers for Almack's! I must tell Emmett at once!" She ran from the room with a vigour that would have done credit to a woman half her age.

Rosalind and Ellie regarded each other rather breathlessly. Surprisingly, it was Rosalind who found her voice first.

"Mama seems extremely pleased," she said somewhat inadequately.

"I'm not surprised," replied Ellie. "The entree to Almack's should set the final seal on your social acceptance —and hers, as well." She could well believe that Aunt Mabel saw those vouchers as a tangible trophy for all her years of work to improve her social standing.

"And yours, also, Ellie," added Rosalind. "There were four vouchers in the envelope, for I saw them."

"Were there? I—I didn't notice." Ellie's thoughts flew at once to the evening before, when Lord Dearborn had asked if she went to Almack's on Wednesday, all but promising her a dance there. Could he have had anything to do with the vouchers being sent?
 

She reined in her errant thoughts sharply. "Well, presuming that Aunt Mabel still wishes to walk in the Park, we'd best hurry upstairs to change," she said briskly. "Come, Rosie, let me help you with your gown."