Free A Midsummer Bride by Amanda Forester Page A

and opened a second trunk, larger than the first. In this trunk Penelope found a scarlet riding habit, several morning dresses, and others.
    “I cannot believe you did all this.”
    “But there is more!” Leclair brought out bandboxes of hats, bonnets, and another smaller trunk just of slippers and boots.
    “I do not know what to say,” mumbled Penelope. “This must have been very dear. How can I pay you back?”
    The dowager coughed slightly and asked Madame Leclair if she would run down to the kitchen to ask if they would bring up tea. Leclair gave a pinched look of injured pride—she was a French lady’s maid, not a common messenger—but she complied.
    “I shall pay for that,” mumbled the dowager.
    “Your Grace, I appreciate this, but I cannot possibly accept such extravagant gifts,” said Penelope, holding herself straight and tall. “I should be much more comfortable in my own clothes.”
    “Yes, about the money. I decided you needed a new wardrobe so I…” The dowager turned away and took a deep breath. “So I used the funds we acquired from our success as Madame X.”
    “You used our funds?” Penelope swallowed hard a lump of foreboding. “Please tell me you did not use my funds.”
    “I thought it appropriate since it was to benefit you.”
    “You spent my money?” cried Penelope. Those funds were going to provide her an independence so she would not have to be anyone’s companion. “I asked you to have your solicitor invest the money.”
    The dowager turned to Penelope, her bright-blue eyes blazing. “And I have invested the money. I have invested it in you. There is no reason why you should be so shabbily dressed.”
    “Those were my funds. You had no right!”
    “If I am going to be seen with you, I should be able to demand a style of dress that is appropriate.”
    “But these gowns are not appropriate. They will make me look like I am putting myself forward. People will talk.”
    “People may notice you, which is a good thing. You are a young lady. Why should you be attired in clothes best suited for a woman twice your age? You are much too young to be dressed as a matron. Where did you get your clothes? They are dreadful.”
    “They were my mother’s!” cried Penelope.
    “Aha! My point is made. Why would you wear such gowns? I have seen your sisters. They do not languish in such unattractive attire.”
    Penelope sighed and paced the room. “When my sisters and I first came to London, we were sponsored by our aunt, but we had very little to buy new clothes. It seemed more important for my two elder sisters to have the appropriate adornment to put themselves into society where they could meet husbands. After a few years, my elder sisters were married and it was time for my younger sisters to come out into society. Of course they needed new gowns and such.”
    “Now that all four of your sisters are married, when does it become your turn?” asked the dowager with a pointed look.
    “I do not wish for a turn. I do not wish to be dressed in such finery.”
    “You dress like an unemployed governess so that no one will notice you. These plain gowns of yours are like a shield.”
    “And what is wrong with that?” demanded Penelope. She had been unfavorably compared to her beautiful blonde sisters her whole life. As the only brunette of the family, and a rather plain one at that, Penelope had learned early not to compete in the same games as her sisters.
    “You have given up on yourself. You consider yourself a spinster.”
    “I am a spinster.”
    “You are still in your twenties. Perhaps you never found a husband because you never even looked for one. You were too busy finding husbands for your sisters and hiding beneath frilly lace caps.”
    Penelope unconsciously felt her head to ensure her lace cap was in place. “Are you more concerned with my wardrobe, my marital status, or keeping me dependent on you by robbing me of the living which would have given me my