Formidable Lord Quentin Read Online Free PDF

far too expensive. You
will not be going anywhere to be seen.”
    “Why can I not be seen?” Syd asked. “You were seeing Jeremy
when you were my age.”
    “There is no one in Town to see you,” Bell said, diverting
the impending argument. “But there is no reason you can’t have ribbons and
sashes. We haven’t been to the milliner’s yet, so you may want to wait and
choose your colors after that.”
    Grasping the opportunity, the modiste produced a rich white
satin. “For the young lady’s presentation, yes? With the lace and pearls . . .”
    Both girls fell speechless as the modiste’s assistant held
up examples of how the gown would be adorned in seed pearls amid the lace.
    Bell had adored dressing her protégées and Quent’s sisters,
but they had all been pragmatic young women, experienced in pinching their
coins. Tess and Syd, however, had no concept of what materials could be had,
much less their cost. Bell understood she should be careful not to
over-indulge, but she loved shocking them. They deserved a little pampering
after years of desperation.
    “First, morning and walking gowns,” Bell corrected the
modiste, wielding her fashion authority. “Once they are dressed for the shops,
we can explore and see what colors and fashions appeal most. They need a little
town bronze before choosing more expensive garments.”
    “Very wise, milady,” the modiste acknowledged, setting aside
the luxurious fabric and returning to sturdier broadcloth. “Will the ladies
need habits?”
    “Naturally. Boyles are born on horseback. That forest green . . .”
Bell realized her sisters hadn’t resumed chattering, an unusual state if she’d
ever heard one. She glanced at them questioningly.
    “We lived in town and didn’t have a horse,” Tess murmured
apologetically. “Daddy sold the mares he took with him.”
    The mares that had been Bell’s life and soul for her first
eighteen years. At the time, the pain of their loss had been as great, if not
greater, than losing her family. “Even Little Dream?” she asked, trying to hide
her horror. He father had promised to
take care of her mare . . .
    “No, we learned Dream was with foal before we left. He left
her with Uncle Jim in payment of debts he owed,” Tess acknowledged, lovingly
folding a piece of lace over her hand, not recognizing the blow she’d just
dealt. “Might I have some of this for a new gown for Beebee?”
    Bell nodded, unable to speak through her despair. Dream, the
mare she’d raised from birth, in Uncle Jim’s ignorant care? How had she not known this? She’d been told their father
had been allowed to keep his horses to set her sisters up in the new world. For
all his faults, her father was an excellent horseman and would never let harm
come to his animals. She’d thought Dream would be in good hands. She’d wept and
pleaded to keep her mare, but Edward had refused, saying the valuable horse had
been part of the bargain.
    So she’d consoled herself thinking Dream would provide an
excellent dowry for her sisters, and then she’d shut the memory and the pain
out of her heart. She had turned her mind to learning to be the best wife and
marchioness in existence, and done her best never to think of her horses again.
    And now to learn that her Dream could still be alive . . .
    She suffered the despair of an adolescent all over again,
only this time with a mature woman’s sense of responsibility . . .
a deadly combination.
    She wanted to rip off heads, and these days, she had the
power to do so.
    She’d have Summerby send a groom to Ireland—immediately.
    Still stunned, Bell tried to imagine a world where her
father did not proudly sit one of his
Thoroughbreds. He’d sold them all ?
Tess had been a daredevil on horseback before the age of eight. Syd had already
known how to groom her pony and ride like the wind when she’d been younger than
Kit. The true awfulness of their circumstances finally sank in.
    “Kit?” Bell