Lord Dearborn's Destiny by Brenda Hiatt Page B

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.
    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