Crysabel and her maid helped Cal into yet another new gown. At the rate she was spending money on clothes, the twenty thousand sovereign gift might hurt more than she thought. Who knew being wealthy was so expensive?
"Matilde, check the drape on your side." Crysabel huffed as she leaned forward to tug on the over blouse. This one was a green which reminded Cal of seaweed.
"When can I start wearing gowns I already own?" Cal twisted her neck to look at herself in the mirror. This made the fifth outing in a month.
"Oh, you can't do that." Crysabel clucked her tongue and made a microscopic adjustment. "People will start gossiping that you are going bankrupt."
"I'm filling a closet with gowns I will never likely wear again; I will be going bankrupt. Besides, I'm trying to encourage gossip that I might be traitor, a little chin-wagging about me being poor is the least of my worries."