“Miss Booth and Mrs. Croly are businesswomen. They want to taste and try before they buy, as everyone does here. If you come up with the goods, they’ll bite your hand off for more.”

Margaret laughed. “What an extraordinary way to put it.”

“I heard someone use that phrase today,” Marion said, smiling to herself at the memory.

“If my father ever found out, if he saw the family name in print, he’d be appalled and would very likely stop my allowance.”

Every time Margaret mentioned that bully of a father, Marion’s fists curled. He should admire his daughter, not denigrate her. If Margaret was her daughter, she’d be the proudest mother in the world. But there. “If your writing is successful, you may not need your allowance,” she pointed out. “Besides, it’s your name, too.”

“That’s true, and my father was happy enough to use it when he was trying to marry me off.”

Bravo! And about time, too, Marion thought. “Precisely,” she said.

“It hadn’t occurred to me that I could earn my living as Mrs. Croly and Miss Booth do. Now I have started to think about it, I have all sorts of ideas. My children’s stories, for example—but I’m getting ahead of myself.”

“There is nothing wrong with being ambitious, my dear. I take it you’ve decided to wield your pen, then?”

“I think I have. I would be foolish to let this opportunity pass, don’t you think? Dear Marion.” Margaret kissed her cheek. “I have wittered on enough about my day and I haven’t even asked you about yours. Did you enjoy the auction?”

“Actually, I don’t think that sort of auction is the place for us to acquire our household goods. We don’t need gilded chairs and marble-topped side tables, and we certainly don’t need a seven-octave pianoforte. Yes, there was one on offer, but there was a distinct lack of good practical furniture.”

“Oh dear. So it was a waste of time, then?”

“Not quite.” Marion bit back a smile. “I met someone there who has promised to help us.”

“Excellent. Who is she?”

“His name is Patrick Valentine. He’s an Irishman. A charming and very rich Irishman, actually, though I’m not quite sure how he made his money, for all he would tell me was that he has a finger in many pies. He came over here from Cork during the Great Famine.”

“Marion, are you blushing?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We fell into conversation, that is all.”

“Clearly that is not all. Is he handsome?”