Free A Midsummer Bride by Amanda Forester

had never experienced.
    “Good. If you are confused by anything, just look over to me. I bribed the butler to have you seated across from me.”
    “You did what?”
    “It was easy, the staff are months behind in their wages. Easy to bribe.”
    Harriet viewed Penelope from an entirely new perspective. Penelope Rose was a resourceful creature, and one she was glad to have on her side.
    ***
    “Finally!” breathed the Dowager Duchess of Marchford. “I thought we would not see our trunks before dinner.”
    “Just in time,” commented Penelope, as she directed the footmen who were bringing up the numerous trunks the dowager felt necessary for a short venture into the Highlands. Madame Leclair swept majestically through the room and began unpacking the duchess’s trunks, putting away the gowns, hats, capes, shawls, shoes, bonnets, and other essential items.
    “I shall leave you to dress.” Penelope took her trunk into her adjacent room, a room most likely designed to house a lady’s maid or a companion of a wealthier, more important person. That is what she was. A paid companion. No shame in it, of course, but it was no great honor either.
    Things would change when she started to draw income on the capital they made through their clandestine business as matchmakers. As a single woman, she would still not be allowed to live alone, perish the thought. But at least she could live with some independence.
    Penelope opened her trunk and saw at once that it was not hers. The gowns inside were fine and definitely unfamiliar. She carried the trunk back into the dowager’s room and handed it to Madame Leclair. “I believe I took one of the dowager’s trunks instead of my own. Have you seen mine?”
    “That is your trunk, mademoiselle,” said Madame Leclair.
    “I thought it looked like mine, but when I opened it, none of my clothes were inside. I believe this must belong to the dowager.”
    The dowager yawned audibly in a manner Penelope had never seen before. If Penelope didn’t know different, she would say the dowager was pretending to be tired to get rid of her.
    “This is your trunk, mademoiselle,” repeated Madame Leclair.
    “But it is full of—” Penelope stopped short when she noted a pointed look pass between the dowager and Madame Leclair. “What is this? What have you two done?”
    “We have a lovely surprise for you,” said the dowager, a sugary sweet smile on her face. “We replaced your wardrobe.”
    “What do you mean?” asked Penelope.
    “Your gowns needed updating. If you are to accompany me as my companion, I expect someone with a little more sense of style.”
    “My gowns were perfectly serviceable.” Penelope rifled through her trunk to find layer after layer of unknown clothing. “Where are my gowns?”
    “The maids—” began the dowager.
    “You gave my gowns to the maids?” gasped Penelope.
    “I tried, but they would not have them,” said Madame Leclair.
    “What was wrong with them?” demanded Penelope.
    “Wrong, oui , very wrong,” said Leclair with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Gave them to the poorhouse, poor souls.”
    “You gave them to…” Penelope spun around and stared at the dowager. “You gave all my clothes to the poor?”
    “Of course not. I could hardly give away what you were wearing. But I did replace what I could. At least take a look at the gowns.”
    Penelope took out a blue damask, a golden silk, and something of pink that was so light and airy she thought it must have been spun of clouds. They were beautiful, all of them, and it gave her a lump in her throat. What was she going to do with these clothes? She could hardly wear them.
    “Do you not adore them?” asked the dowager.
    “These are all ball gowns. None of them are practical.”
    “I should hope I did not buy you anything practical. But here, you have not opened your other trunk.”
    “I do not have another trunk.”
    “ Oui, mademoiselle , this is for you,” said Leclair with a wink