The Courtship Dance by Candace Camp Page B

you would—my mother, you see, is not in the best of health. Nor does she move about in Society that much. I think it might be too much for her. Not, of course, that she wouldn’t be willing.” The expression on his face put the lie to that last sentence.
    “I could easily have a small soiree or a dinner here,” Francesca suggested.
    The man heaved a sigh of relief. “Just the thing, I’m sure. It is a great deal to ask of you, I know, but I am certain that you would handle everything so much better. Just direct all the bills to me—as you must do with the dresses, of course.”
    “I shall be happy to play hostess,” Francesca assured him honestly. She enjoyed arranging parties, and it was much more fun to do so when she was not limited by her own financial situation.
    Harriet and her father rose to leave not long afterwards. As Francesca and Harriet stood making arrangements for the shopping expedition the following day, the butler appeared in the doorway to announce another visitor.
    “His Grace, the Duke of Rochford, my lady,” Fenton intoned.
    Francesca turned toward the door, startled to see Rochford standing in the hallway behind her butler. Her stomach tightened, and she could feel a blush rising up her throat. She hardly knew what to say or think as memories of the evening before flooded in on her. In the space of a single instant she veered from embarrassment at the thought of his kiss to pain from the angry words he had thrown at her to an answering anger of her own.
    “Rochford. I—I did not expect you. I—oh, forgive me.” Belatedly, she remembered her other guests. “Pray allow me to introduce you to Sir Alan Sherbourne and his daughter, Miss Harriet Sherbourne. Sir Alan, the Duke of Rochford.”
    To her surprise, Sir Alan smiled and said, “Thank you, Lady Haughston, but the duke and I have met. Good to see you again.”
    “Sir Alan.” The duke nodded to the other man, explaining to Francesca, “Sir Alan and I met the other day at Tattersall’s.” The horse sales were conducted every Monday, and had become a favorite congregating place for men of all ranks.
    “Yes, and his Grace was kind enough to advise me against buying a certain hunter that I had my eye on.”
    “I had knowledge of him, you see. Good-looking animal, but no go in him.” The duke turned toward Harriet, saying, “But until now I have not had the pleasure of meeting your daughter, Sir Alan.” He nodded. “Miss Sherbourne.”
    Harriet, who was rather goggling at the duke, hastily curtsied, a blush spreading along her cheeks. “An honor, Your Grace.”
    Sir Alan and Harriet then took their leave, with Sir Alan once again expressing his gratitude to Francesca. After they were gone, the duke turned back to her.
    “One of your projects?” he asked her, raising an eyebrow.
    “I have decided to take an interest in Miss Sherbourne, yes,” Francesca replied a little stiffly, not sure how to respond to him.
    It seemed unlikely that he would have come to expound on his dislike of her actions, but neither was it reasonable that he would have abandoned his anger this quickly. Even if he had, Francesca thought, she was not inclined to ignore the way he had railed at her just the night before.
    “I came to apologize,” he told her now, comingstraight to the point. “I have no excuse for how I acted last night. I can only hope that your good nature will lead you to forgive me.”
    “Some would say that appealing to my better nature would fall on deaf ears,” Francesca retorted crisply, but she could not help but be disarmed by his apology.
    He smiled. “Anyone who could say that obviously does not know you.”
    “I did not mean to upset you, you know,” she told him. “I wanted to make up for my mistakes, not commit a new one.”
    “You are not to blame for my reaction.” He shrugged. “I fear that I am a trifle sensitive on the subject of marrying. My grandmother has taken me to task for it far too many times, as has