The Courtship Dance by Candace Camp Page A

of the parents who had come to her. Most of them seemed more interested in an advantageous marriage than a happy one, and few expressed, as this man had, an interest in their daughter enjoying her come-out.
    Of course, kindness did not necessarily translate into a willingness to spend money to accomplish his goals. There had been far too many parents who had expected her to work wonders for their daughter without purchasing different clothes, or to purchase an adequate wardrobe on a cheeseparing budget.
    “I have found that bringing a girl out properly often demands adjustments to her wardrobe, entailing further expenses,” Francesca said, probing delicately.
    He nodded agreeably. “Of course, if that is what you think is best. I would leave that matter entirely in your hands. I fear that my mother was not, perhaps, the best person to choose my daughter’s frocks for the Season.”
    “And doubtless you will need to host a party yourself.” At the man’s dismayed expression, she hastily added, “Or we can hold it here. I can take care of the preparations.”
    “Yes.” His face cleared. “Oh, yes, that would be just the thing, if you would be so kind. Just direct the bills to me.”
    “Certainly.” Francesca smiled. It was always a pleasure to work with an openhanded parent, especially one who was happy to put all the decisions and arrangements into her hands.
    Sir Alan beamed back, clearly quite pleased with the arrangement. “I don’t know how to thank you, Lady Haughston. Harriet will be so pleased, I’m sure. I should not take up any more of your time. I have already imposed on you more than enough.”
    He took his leave, giving her a polite bow, and Francesca went back upstairs, feeling a good bit more cheerful. Taking Harriet Sherbourne in hand would give her something to do, as well as provide her with somemuch-needed coin in the coming weeks. Given the quality of the last few meals her cook had prepared, she knew that Fenton must have run out of the money the duke’s man of business had sent them for Callie’s upkeep while she was living with Francesca. The butler and her cook had, of course, worked their usual economic magic with the cash, managing to apportion the money so that it lasted several weeks longer than the time Callie had been there.
    The household was still solvent and would remain so for the rest of the Season, due to the gift that Callie’s grandmother, the dowager duchess, had sent. When Callie had left Francesca’s household, she had given Francesca a cameo left to her by her mother, a gift so sweet and instantly dear to Francesca that she had been unable to part with it, even for the money it would have brought. However, shortly thereafter, the duchess had sent her a lovely silver vanity set as her own thanks for taking the burden of arrangements for the wedding ceremony off the duchess’s hands. Francesca hated to give up the engraved tray and its set of small boxes, pots and perfume bottles, simply because it was so beautifully done, but yesterday she had turned it over to Maisie to take to the jeweler’s and sell.
    Still, the cash the set would bring would not last forever, and after the Season ended, there would be the long stretch of fall and winter, in which there were few opportunities to make any more income. Whatever she could earn by helping Sir Alan’s daughter would bevery welcome. Besides, life always seemed better when she had a project to work on. Two projects, therefore, should utterly banish the fit of the blue devils she had suffered the other evening.
    Her spirits were further buoyed by the fact that, in her absence, Maisie had recalled some silver lace that she had salvaged from a ruined ball gown last fall, and which would, the maid was sure, be just the thing to spruce up Francesca’s dove-gray evening gown for her visit to the theater.
    The two women spent the rest of the afternoon happily remaking the ball gown in question, replacing its overskirt with