Lord Dearborn's Destiny by Brenda Hiatt

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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