excited face to Amy’s hopeful one. “Oh no, I…I’m too old to come out!”
“I know that.” Helen laughed. “It’s not a coming-out ball, not as such. It’s an—an introductory ball. To introduce you to London society!”
“Oh please…” Francesca groaned.
Amy poured her some tea and handed her the cup. “My dear, I know this isn’t strictly what you prefer, all this fuss, but I’m asking you for my sake, for Helen’s, for Mr. Jardine’s, for Uncle William’s! It seems such a perfect way to bring us all together. And Tremaine House can return to life again, and become the wonderful place it was when we were young.”
Their eyes shone, their faces glowed.
Francesca sipped her tea, refusing to be won over so easily. They watched her without blinking, trying to guess what she was going to say. After a moment Helen grew impatient and began to speak, but Amy touched her arm and hushed her. Eventually Francesca set down her cup.
“I’ll agree. But,” she added loudly, when they tried to talk over her, “only if Uncle William does. After all, we can’t hold a ball in his house if he refuses, can we?”
Helen clapped her hands together. “He will agree, I know he will!”
Amy appeared more uncertain.
Francesca tried not to feel relieved. She couldn’t imagine Uncle William agreeing to a ball, especially one in her honor. Although it was a shame to disappoint the two older women, Francesca did not think she could survive it. A ball meant being thrust into London society, and then what next? A list of suitable beaus? No, Francesca didn’t want to be remade in someone else’s image. She was herself, for better or worse.
But her relief was short-lived.
“A ball!” William repeated, when he arrived at breakfast and Amy determinedly broached the subject. He didn’t sound enthused.
“We used to have them, remember?” Amy said wryly. “The last time the house was full of guests was for Helen’s coming out. How long ago was that, brother?”
Francesca watched them with interest, waiting for the shouting to begin. But to her amazement and horror, Uncle William grew maudlin.
“Helen was an angel that night.”
“Thank you, William.” Helen flushed with pleasure. “I did think I looked very well. The gown was—”
“You could have made a great match, you know. There were several very important gentlemen interested. But no, you had to go and spoil it all by running off with that half-wit Toby!”
“Francesca is not about to run off with anyone, William,” Amy said quickly, to avert Helen’s tears and William’s bad temper. “But you never know, she may make just as good a marriage as her sisters.” She gave Francesca a sharp glance, stifling any protests.
“Do you think so?” William gave Francesca a doubtful look. “She is pretty, I grant you, or would be if she would only leave off those frightful Yorkshire bags and wear something smart. Her manners…well, she can be opinionated, but all of your girls are, Amy. At least there is no scandal attached to her name. Yet!”
“I think Francesca could shine almost as brightly as Marietta,” Amy said slyly.
“Max Valland will be a duke one day,” William followed on with her train of thought. “But an earl would be acceptable. Is that what you mean, an earl?” His eyebrows rose. “Well, I suppose anything is possible. What do you say to that, girl? Do you have an earl hidden up your sleeve somewhere?”
As always, Francesca had the impression he disliked her, but she gave him a wan smile.
“Do you really think she could do the family proud?” William asked Amy, as if he didn’t hold much hope.
“Yes, I do.”
“Francesca is a very beautiful woman, just like her mother,” Helen added, trying to be helpful.
There was a silence. William gave one of his most savage frowns. “The less we say about that, the better.”
Helen’s lip wobbled.
“And she has her portion of the Greentree fortune for her dowry,” Amy hurried to move matters on to something William found more palatable. “She is not penniless, William, and she has connections. You are her uncle…” She let the sentence drift, watching him.
William nodded. “Yes, I see what you mean. She can’t help but be touched by my own respectability. You’re a good girl, niece?”
“Uncle, I am—”