Lord Dearborn's Destiny

by Brenda Hiatt

  * * *

  "That was lovely, Forrest, Miss Winston-Fitts," said Lady Glenhaven at the conclusion of the song. "And you play quite excellently, Sir George. In fact, you have induced me to try my voice tonight. Might I join you, Miss Winston-Fitts? I'm certain Forrest won't mind sitting one out." She had noticed his eyes following Ellie's exit from the room and hoped that he would take advantage of the opportunity she was giving him. Juliet had never enjoyed singing before company, but felt that the present circumstance justified the sacrifice.

  The Earl took her cue with commendable smoothness. "Not at all, Juliet," he said. "It has been an age since I've heard you sing," he continued, with a significant glance that she hoped no one else noticed, "and I'm certain you and Miss Winston-Fitts will sound like two songbirds together." He moved away from the instrument with an alacrity that Juliet thoroughly approved. Even more promising, less than halfway into their song she saw him moving surreptitiously towards the doors.

  Forrest was indeed grateful for his sister's interference. He had been hoping for two days now to find an opportunity to speak to Miss O'Day privately —to thank her for her efforts on his mother's behalf, of course. Watching Miss O'Day as she left the room, he had thought she looked troubled. Surely it behooved him, as host, to discover what was bothering one of his guests? So telling himself, he made his way, with occasional pauses to speak to one or another of the company, to the doors through which Ellie had so recently disappeared.

  Glancing about, much as Ellie had, to be certain that everyone —and Mrs. Winston-Fitts in particular —was attending to the music, he opened one of the doors and stepped out onto the terrace. He did not see Ellie at first, for she had moved some way down the terrace and stood absolutely still, leaning against the railing and gazing steadfastly up at the sky. Forrest watched her earnest profile for a moment before advancing.

  "Miss O'Day?" he said softly. "Are... are you feeling quite well?" She started and turned when he spoke, but looked away too quickly for him to be certain whether the sparkle in her eyes was due to tears or merely the moonlight.

  "Yes, my lord, I am perfectly all right. I merely felt a bit warm, but I thank you for asking." Forrest thought he heard the slightest quaver in her voice, as though she fought to control it. Something welled up in his heart that was not precisely pity or concern, though it had elements of both.

  "I have been wishing to tell you how much I appreciate the effort you have undertaken to ensure the success of my mother's ball. No doubt she has thanked you already, but I wished to add my gratitude to hers." His speech sounded rehearsed to his own ears, and he groped for words that might better express his sincerity.

  "Your mother has been most kind to me, my lord, and I am happy that I have been able to repay her generosity in some small way." She did not sound happy, though, Forrest thought. He suspected again that she had been crying before his appearance.

  "I saw you were studying the skies when I came out. Do I recall you once mentioning an interest in astronomy, Miss O'Day?" he asked, hoping to divert her thoughts from whatever was distressing her.

  "Yes, my father taught me," she replied, speaking more steadily now. "I was trying to trace out some of his favourite constellations, but the moon is too bright tonight for good observations."

  Forrest glanced up. "Yes, it is exactly full, is it not? I am surprised my mother has none of her superstitious rituals planned for the occasion." He was suddenly struck with the parallel between the present scene and the one he had shared with Miss Winston-Fitts only three nights earlier. There was one major difference, however; on this occasion he felt no inclination whatsoever to hurry inside.

  Ellie was smiling now. "Yes, Lady Dearborn has shared some of her, ah, beliefs with me. I will own she is superstitious, but she does no one any harm by it. You speak as though she practices witchcraft." In truth, she had found the countess's various tokens and rites both amusing and endearing.

  "Certainly not that," replied the Earl with a chuckle. "Indeed, most of her charms seem designed to avert it. But if you had grown up forbidden to eat blackberries after Michaelmas or to stir out of the house on Childermas Day you'd not be so quick to call her superstitions harmless!"

  Ellie had to laugh with him at that, and soon he was telling her all about his childhood, and she was sharing much of hers. Their stories were remarkably similar, even though he had grown up surrounded by luxury and she in relative poverty. Both had enjoyed the freedom of outdoor country life and had resented the restrictions adulthood placed on that freedom.

  "That is why I so wish my grandfather would invite me to Ireland," Ellie admitted with a sigh, quite forgetting her previous deception to her aunt on that point. "There, I would not be trammelled in by Aunt Mabel's endless rules for proper behaviour."

  Forrest moved a step closer to her. "Could you not be happy here?" he asked. "My mother would like you to stay, above all things. She has said so repeatedly."

  In spite of the sudden stab of pain at his words, which seemed to speak of his impending marriage to Rosalind, Ellie forced herself to ask the question that had been plaguing her. Raising her chin bravely, she looked him full in the eyes. "And what of you, my lord? Do you wish me to stay?"

  Forrest looked down at her upturned face, his expression at first startled, but then resolving into a slow smile. By way of answer, he took her in his arms and lowered his lips to hers.

  Ellie stiffened briefly in surprise, but the temptation to give in, to have this one perfect moment to remember, was too strong. She allowed her lips to soften under his, to revel in the wild sweetness of her very first kiss. Groaning, he pulled her closer and Ellie responded eagerly, putting her arms around his broad back to press herself even more tightly against him. The stars, the moon, seemed to swirl around her as she closed her eyes and gave herself completely to his embrace. She had never imagined such ecstasy.

  Forrest gradually felt his reason return and reluctantly released her. He was astounded at his own reaction to that incredible kiss. Why had it taken him so long to realize what this girl meant to him? It all seemed so obvious now, so perfect. Of course, she was what he had wanted all along. How could he not have known it before?

  How stupid he had been, to think that Rosalind, rather than Ellie, was his "type"! Ellie O'Day was precisely the kind of woman who could make him happy. He opened his mouth to tell her so, but suddenly remembered Miss Winston-Fitts and the expectations he had so foolishly raised in that quarter. In honour, he could not offer for Ellie until that matter was resolved.

  "Miss O'Day— Ellie— I—" he began, but she stopped him.

  "Please, my lord, you needn't." She backed away from him, both hands pressed to her flaming cheeks. "We must both endeavour to forget that this ever happened. I—I promise not to speak of it to a soul, and I shall leave for Ireland as soon as may be, whether my grandfather writes to me or not. I pray you, do not tell Rosalind what I have done!"

  She whirled and ran into the house by another door, while Forrest gazed after her with a bemused smile. He had no intention of forgetting that kiss, or her response to it, nearly as eager as his own. No, he finally knew his heart and he praised Heaven that his eyes had been opened in time, before he had irrevocably committed himself to Miss Winston-Fitts.

  It was crystal clear to him now that his true Destiny lay with Miss Ellie O'Day and no other. First, he must free himself of that other entanglement and then he would somehow convince her of that.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 14

  ELLIE MANAGED to reach her room without being seen. Her heart was in her throat as she hurried down the corridors and up the long stairway, for fear that she would be required to explain her flight to someone. Finally closing the door of her chamber behind her, she leaned against it with a sigh of relief, allowing the soothing rose tones of the room to calm her racing pulse. Now that the immediate fear of discovery was past, however, other, even more insurmountable, problems arose to torment her.

  H
ow, how could she have allowed Lord Dearborn to kiss her and, worse, how could she have allowed herself to respond as she had? She had betrayed Rosalind, who trusted her, as well as her aunt and uncle, Lady Dearborn and even the Earl himself. For surely he must right now be feeling a remorse nearly equal to her own. What if her rash surrender to temptation had blasted his chance at a happy marriage with Rosalind? She would never forgive herself!

  That thought led to another: why had he kissed her? Surely, whispered a small, wicked voice at the back of her mind, it must be evidence that he did not love Rosalind, after all. But no, she would not build up foolish hopes. Most likely, his kiss had merely been meant to reassure her that she would be welcome to stay at Huntington Park after his marriage to Rosalind. A kiss of comfort and pity. It was doubtless her own shameless response that had turned it into something quite different —for there had been a passion, a fire in him that went far beyond pity, and that she could not, even now, dismiss as mere wishful thinking on her part.

  But what did it matter? she thought despairingly. What if he did, fleetingly, feel a spark of desire for her? He was still all but promised to Rosalind, and she had no doubt that Aunt Mabel would make his life and everyone else's miserable if he did not follow through with an offer in form.

  No, her best course was to do what she had promised, and forget that incredible, terrible, wonderful kiss had ever happened, at least outwardly. She would be as cool and aloof as ever Rosalind had been when next she saw him. But not tonight. No, tonight she would go early to bed and dream, one last time, of the feel of his arms about her, his lips on hers, before banishing such thoughts from her mind forever in the morning.

  * * *

  "And where were you, Elinor, when the tea tray was brought in last night?" asked Mrs. Winston-Fitts waspishly across the breakfast table the next day. "Surely you did not remain out of doors until bedtime?"

  "No, Aunt Mabel," replied Ellie with tolerable composure, rearranging the food on her plate to make it appear as though she had eaten more than the few bites she had felt able to manage. "I had the headache. I thought that the fresh air would revive me, but when it did not I went up to bed early." She had had ample time, since awakening well before dawn, to concoct a reasonable excuse for her disappearance.

  "Hmph," her aunt snorted. "Well, it was very rude of you not to take leave of Lady Dearborn before absenting yourself. I thought I had instructed you better than that."

  "I shall apologize to her later this morning," Ellie promised, cutting her ham into minuscule pieces before placing one carefully in her mouth. "I'm certain she will understand."

  Lady Dearborn would never understand if she knew the true reason, Ellie thought. She knew that the Countess was looking forward to her son's betrothal to Rosalind nearly as eagerly as Aunt Mabel was. Guilt assailed her anew and she nearly choked on the ham.

  "I suppose you do look rather pale," Mrs. Winston-Fitts grudgingly admitted when Ellie's coughing fit subsided. "I hope you do not intend being ill for the ball tomorrow night. Keep your distance from Rosalind today, pray, for I will not have her risk contagion."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Ah, here she is now," said Rosalind's fond mama as her daughter entered the dining room. "If you are finished, you may go about your business, Elinor," she said pointedly to her niece.

  Ellie rose and departed quickly after a brief greeting —from a distance —to her cousin. In truth, she was grateful to her aunt for this excuse to avoid Rosalind, for she feared that she might be tempted to pour out the truth if the two of them were alone for any length of time. Ellie thought that Rosalind looked happier than usual this morning, and she had no wish to be the one to change that.

  * * *

  Lady Dearborn was quite understanding when Ellie came to her a short time later to explain her absence after dinner the night before. In fact, she understood more than she allowed, for she was no blinder than Juliet and had suspected for some days the true state of Miss O'Day's feelings. She had also noticed her son's departure last night— though, thankfully, Mrs. Winston-Fitts apparently had not— and wondered if there might be a connection.

  To Ellie, however, she merely said, "Yes, crowded rooms often affect me so, also. I find it most soothing, when I am not feeling quite the thing, to work in my rose garden. Perhaps you would care to do some pruning for me today? If you'd like to cut a basket or two of blooms for tomorrow night while you are at it, I should be most grateful."

  As the Countess had suspected she would be, Ellie was thankful for an excuse to spend most of the day alone with her thoughts and agreed readily.

  Half an hour later, Forrest requested an interview with his mother, which surprised her not at all. In fact, she had lingered in her rooms longer than usual in hopes of it, brushing out the fur of two of her longhaired cats even though they were not really in need of it yet.

  "Mother, I—I hope what I have to say will not upset you too badly" was the Earl's disquieting introduction. "But even if it does, I cannot retract it. I have decided that I cannot marry Miss Winston-Fitts." He regarded the Countess expectantly, obviously braced for a storm of protest.

  Instead, Lady Dearborn smiled. "Pray have a seat, Forrest," she said mildly. "I believe we have a few things to discuss."

  He perched on the edge of the settee, regarding her warily. "I warn you, ma'am, I have thought this through and will not be dissuaded."

  "I can see that," agreed the Countess, enjoying the startled look on her son's face. "I only wonder that it took you so long."

  Forrest's expression became one of pure astonishment. "But... but I thought you... that—"

  "You thought that I was so desperate for grandchildren that I would hurry you into marriage with the first girl you showed an interest in," his mother finished for him. "I will admit, the idea was tempting, especially given Miss Winston-Fitts's beauty."

  She allowed herself a sigh of regret for the lovely goldenheaded grandchildren they would have given her. "But you must know, Forrest, that your happiness comes first with me— though I am not certain that having Miss Winston-Fitts constantly about would contribute much to my felicity, either. Your decision presents us with a problem, however."

  Forrest nodded. "Her parents. They quite obviously expect me to offer for her."

  "Precisely. I would not put it past that odious woman to spread it abroad throughout London that you had jilted her daughter if you do not, and we really cannot have that. Nor would that circumstance appeal to Miss O'Day, I suspect."

  The Earl's head came up sharply at that. "Miss O'Day? What has she to do with this?"

  The Countess merely chuckled. "Very well, you may keep your own counsel there, if you wish. I'll say no more on it."

  Forrest favoured her with a reluctant smile. "You always were too sharp by half, Mother. But for honour's sake, this first matter must be settled before I can do anything about the other."

  "Agreed. I have noticed that Sir George Bellamy appears to have a marked partiality for Miss Winston-Fitts. Perhaps we may make use of that."

  "I had already formed a plan of sorts along those lines," replied Forrest, his smile broadening. "Now that I know you will not oppose it, I believe I shall proceed."

  The Countess arched a brow, but did not question him further. "Very well, Forrest, I leave you to do whatever you can," she said, rummaging in her pockets as he rose to go.

  "Good luck!" she called out as he reached the door, tossing him a hare's foot. The Earl caught it and turned it over in his hand consideringly, before tucking it into his own pocket.

  "Can't hurt," his mother heard him murmur as he left the room.

  * * *

  Sir George had been surprised when his host singled him out to play a game of billiards, but he had agreed readily enough. He had been quite good in his youth, and there was enough competitive spirit in him still to make him desirous of besting the Earl in this, at least.

  It was ironic that he found Lord Dearborn so likable, he mused as h
e lengthened his lead in the game. Had Rosalind not stood between them, they might have become friends. He never for a moment suspected that the Earl was deliberately allowing him points, so small and skilful were the mistakes Lord Dearborn made.

  "Your angle is off a bit," offered Sir George helpfully as the Earl barely missed another shot.

  "Thank you," replied Lord Dearborn with seeming sincerity. "I'll work on improving it." After a brief silence while Sir George made his next shot, the Earl said hesitantly, "Perhaps you could offer me a bit of advice on another matter, as well. Actually, it would be advice that I might pass on to a friend of mine with a dilemma."

  "Happy to be of any service, of course," said Sir George, preening slightly at the implication that Lord Dearborn valued his opinion. "What sort of dilemma is he faced with?"

  "It involves a young lady he greatly admires," replied the Earl, picking up a cloth to polish his stick. "He believes her to return his sentiments, but her family wishes her to wed elsewhere. Someone of greater wealth or importance than my friend, I imagine."

  Sir George attempted to conceal his sudden interest by turning to gaze out of the window at the excellent view it offered of the herb garden and maze below. "A fairly common problem, I apprehend," he said nonchalantly. "I once knew a fellow in similar circumstances myself."

  "Ah, indeed! And what did that fellow do? Perhaps his example might be of some use to my friend."

  Sir George pondered, trying to look as though he were remembering rather than inventing. "Why, he... he offered for her, but her parents would have none of him," he finally said rather hopelessly, putting forth the most likely scenario in his own case— assuming, of course, that he ever actually screwed up his courage to make the offer.

  "And then what?" prompted the Earl. "Did he call the other fellow out? Place his heart at his beloved's feet? Elope?"