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right,” Honoria said, sending a quelling glance at the grinning Portia. “And George, while it is very nice of you to offer to help, I think you’d do better to keep Achilles in a safe place and let the rest of us work on our financial problems.”
    “But I want to help.”
    “You can. But we must think of something that doesn’t involve Achilles.”
    “Well, / can help right now,” Portia said. “By making that white silk into a gown. Honoria, it’s close to Christmas and there are bound to be a few ladies wishful to have a new gown for the assembly balls. And you know I could do it in a trice.”
    That was true. Portia had nimble fingers when it came to needlework. Honoria just had the feeling that things were changing far too fast. “I suppose making up one gown wouldn’t hurt,” she said, feeling a bit more hopeful. “But only one.”
    Cassandra, who had been staring rather fixedly at the embroidery hoop that rested on her lap, looked up at this and said in a quiet, resolute voice, “I will give up my season.”
    Portia gasped. “Cassandra! How can you suggest such a thing? Whatever else happens, you cannot give up that.”
    Olivia snorted. “You are only saying that because you want Cassandra to find a wealthy husband who will pay your season when your time comes; as you are next.”
    “That has nothing to do with it,” Portia said, though she glanced at Cassandra with a faintly guilty expression.
    Honoria sighed. “Even if Cassandra had a season, there is no guarantee that she’d find a wealthy husband. Besides, the purpose of Cassandra having a season is just so she can meet men with her own level of gentleness and breeding. Nothing more.”
    “Oh, Honoria. The whole idea is a wasted effort.” Cassandra gave a wistful smile. “Aunt Caroline will not sponsor me. I had thought she would, for she certainly indicated in her letters that she might be willing to do so. But since her visit last spring, she has been very unreceptive to the idea.”
    “That is because she saw what a beauty you had become,” Portia said bluntly. “While her own daughter is whey-faced and cursed with spots.”
    “Portia!” Honoria said, her brows lowered. “Cousin Jane cannot help having spots.”
    “No, but you’d think she could do something about her laugh. She sounds like a horse.”
    George grinned and made a loud whinnying sound that so closely approximated Cousin Jane’s ungenteel laugh that the entire Baker-Sneed clan went into gales of laughter. Every:-one but Honoria. She rapped the tabletop with her knuckles once again. “Enough, you ill-bred ruffians! Enough!” Slowly their laughter settled into snuffled giggles and chuckles. “We still have business to attend to. Portia, will you give the report on the improvements to the sitting room?”
    Portia dutifully stood and began her report about the stenciling efforts of the female members of the Baker-Sneeds and how George had had the brilliant idea to dip Achilles’s feet in red paint and let him hop across the paper for their best and most impressive design. Honoria listened with half an ear, her mind working through the problem with the Baker-Sneed finances.
    Her gaze fell on her ring, and as usual the warmth of the metal against her bare finger made her smile. It was then that she knew, come what may, she would persevere.
    Chapter 3
     
     
     
    I once had a rather toothy spaniel named Fluffy. He snarled at my stepmama every time she came into the room, snapped at Clarissa Ethleridge when she laughed at my new coif, and chased Lord Geoffrey Fellington out of the house and into the pond when the fool came to propose. Without a doubt, darting Fluffy was the best dog I ever had.
    Lady Jane Frotherton to Viscount Melton in Hyde Park, while walking Lady Jane’s wheezy pug
     
     
    “… even though I searched everywhere.”
    Honoria looked up from where she sat at the escritoire in the sitting room, lost in a sea of figures as she painstakingly