The Courtship Dance by Candace Camp

forgive my intrusion. It is presumptuous of me, I know, not being acquainted with you, but a friend told me that you might be willing to help me.”
    “Really? Well, certainly, if I can.”
    “It is about my daughter. Harriet. She made her debut this year.”
    “I see.” His mission here was becoming clearer to Francesca. She tried to remember a girl named Harriet Sherbourne, but she could not picture her. Of course, that was probably the problem: Harriet was not making an impression in her first Season.
    “I am a widower,” her visitor went on. “It’s been just Harriet and me for six years now. She is a good, sweet girl. She’s been a wonderful companion to me, and she would make any man a good wife. Why, she has more or less run my household since she was fourteen. But she, well, she just doesn’t seem to be ‘taking.’” He frowned, obviously puzzled.
    “It can be difficult for a young girl when she first comes to London,” Francesca assured him.
    “It’s not that I am anxious to see her married,” he went on quickly. “Quite frankly, I know I shall be quite lonely when she’s gone.” He gave her a small smile. “But I hate to see Harriet not enjoying her time here. And how can she, always sitting against the wall and not dancing?”
    “Exactly right.”
    “Someone told me that you were known to work wonders with young girls who had been, well, left behind in the social race, so to speak. I know you have no reason to help me, not knowing us, but I hoped that you might consider favoring me with some advice. I was told you were most generous in that regard.”
    “Of course I should be happy to help you,” Francesca assured the man.
    She liked her first impression of Sir Alan, and, in any case, she could scarcely turn down an opportunity that had happened along so fortuitously. She should have been combing the ranks of the new marriageable girls, looking for those who could benefit from her expertise—and were willing to open their purses, of course, to achieve results.
    “I am not sure exactly what it is that you can do,” her guest continued a little uncertainly.
    “Nor am I,” Francesca admitted. “It would help, no doubt, if I were to meet your daughter.”
    “Yes, of course. If it would be acceptable for us to call on you, I should be most happy to bring her to visit you.”
    “That sounds like just the thing. Why don’t the two of you come to see me tomorrow afternoon? Lady Harriet and I can become acquainted, and I can get a better idea of the problem.”
    “Excellent,” Sir Alan responded, beaming. “You are very kind, Lady Haughston.”
    “In the meantime, perhaps you might tell me a bit about what you, um, would like to happen for Lady Harriet this Season.”
    He looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
    “Well, I find that parents often have different expectations. Some hope for their daughter to make a quick match, others a highly advantageous one.”
    “Oh.” His face cleared. “I have no expectations of marriage, my lady. I mean, if Harriet were to meet a suitable young man whom she wished to marry, that would be very nice, of course. But she is still young, and I have not heard her express a great interest in marrying. I wish only for her to have a pleasant Season. She never complains, but the past few years she has had to take on more responsibility than a girl her age should. She is entitled to a little fun. That is why we came here for the Season. But, truthfully…well, I believe she is bored at these parties. She would like to dance and converse. My mother has been sponsoring Harriet, but she is getting up in years. It is a burden to her to take the girl about. And I sometimes wonder if the parties she attends are really, well, entertaining to Harriet.”
    Francesca nodded, the picture growing clearer for her. “Of course.”
    Sir Alan seemed a kind and pleasant man, one who wanted only the best for his daughter, which was certainly a refreshing change from many