Brandywine: Regency historical romance (The Brocade Series, Book 1) (16 page)

She should be thankful to her husband, not make him think the sight of him sickened
her. Especially as it seemed to create the opposite reaction.
But she couldn’t think of anything else when he’d called her a virgin, except to tell him the truth.

“Helene? Are you awake?”

The connecting door opened and Gil stuck his head in. She
saw the shape in the dimness.

“Yes, My...Gillian.” 

The door shut behind him.

“Christ, Helene! Don’t call me that, especially not like that.
I wouldn’t have come…except you know. Servants.”

“It’s...all right, Gil.”

“Perhaps you’d better stick to My Lord after all.”

She couldn’t help giggling.

“Could you find another way of expressing your regard?
I’m not particularly fond of disgust.”

He stopped
halfway to the bed, moonlight outlining how he put his hands to his hips. It also delineated his frame even through the thick nightshirt.

“Gillian.” She lifted the covers. “There’s enough room, and
if you don’t snore, I promise not to keep the linens from you. Of
course, you’ll probably find your nightshirt too confining.”

He choked and backed away one step. “What game are we
playing now, Helene?”

“I’m not playing a game. I’m welcoming you
to my bed, and you’re preventing it...Gillian.”

“My Lord, damn it!”

She dropped the covers.
“Very well, My Lord. If you wish to play the shy sacrificial
lamb, who am I to say nay? I shall lie on my side of the bed and
await your presence.”

“Goddamn it, Helene, I never play shy. I’m simply trying to act as if we’re helplessly in love, and you confound me at every
turn. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you’re trying to seduce me.”

“I am.”

She whispered it, and then had to listen to her own heartbeat get louder and faster through the long silence that followed.

“
Well. Well. Bridget was right about one thing. You are never
boring.”

“Does that mean you’ll...accept?”

“Oh. I never turn down a lady, darling.”

She heard the rustle of his nightshirt and that’s when
fear took hold of her limbs.
The mattress moved, and she clenched her
hands until her fingernails bit into her palms.

“You’re as stiff as a board, Helene.”

He whispered it against her
ear. And the thighs pressing against hers felt as strong as they’d looked two days earlier, outlined by the window. She
trembled at the contact and instantly moved away.

“Having second thoughts, my little madwoman?”

He lifted
her hair from her ear, and she squealed slightly when he licked
that spot.

“My...Lord?” she panted.

“Forget I offered. Call me Gil, or better yet…my love. I think that would be my favorite.”

He had his lips on her throat. And he was sucking on her skin. Sending rivulets of goose bumps from the spot. And she was having trouble breathing.

“Gil...lian?”

“Are you going to insist on talking the entire time? Because
I have a much better alternative.”

And then he proved it, touching his lips to her, making her jerk.
He lifted his head, and she held her breath.

“Are you so frightened? Of me? Oh, love. I’ll be gentle. Not at all like
your other men friends.”

“There were...no other...men friends,” she stammered
.

“All right, Helene…I’ll play. I’ll be more gentle than the others
you’ve serviced, who weren’t such friends.”

“I’ve never had—or…done…uh. I haven’t.” 

“Are you trying to seduce me with lies now? I need to warn you in advance, love. It won’t work
.”

“You’re impossible!”

He hooted. She felt his amusement clear through her
breast, because it was pressed against his.

“You know something, Helene? I’ve already tired of your game. I’m buggered if I
can figure it out. My mind is befuddled with this newfound
virginity you’re trying to gift me with, and you don’t desire me at all.
Hell. You’re frozen in place.”

“I’m not frozen! I don’t know how you do it
proper! How do you do it with someone you—!”

She slammed her
lips shut, and then put a hand atop them, too.

“Someone you...what?” he asked.

She shook her head. Held her breath. Regarded him with wide eyes that she didn’t dare move. Oh no. She hadn’t just said it. And worse. It couldn’t be true!

“What? Now I’m supposed to decipher that, too? Christ, Helene. I forfeit.”

He rolled away from her with a shake of the bed beneath them. And then he lifted his head.

“This
pillow is soaked, love.”  He lifted his head and
tossed it to the floor before settling atop another one. “I don’t suppose that’s part of your game? Gifting me with
cold and discomfort?”

“I…have nothing to say either way.”  She couldn’t believe it. Her voice worked.

“Ah! The frost bitch returneth! Thank God. I’ve about run my
gamut of patience tonight. Go to sleep, Helene. Dream up some more games —
they’re ever so entertaining.”

She waited until the sound of his even breathing filled the chamber before
carefully scooting as far from him as possible. She was near tears. Again. Of all the horrid places and rotten times. She didn’t want him to know anything about them, either.  Because it was his fault..

She’d done
everything possible to save her virtue,
and for what?

Her husband didn’t
even want it.

CHAPTER NINE

“You don’t mind if I intrude, do you, Helene? I mean, that son of mine
has kept you so close to his side that we haven’t had time for a real conversation, have we? Not that I wouldn’t want it any other
way, mind you. I’ve never seen him so happy and enthused, especially after I had my second cousin see to it he
wouldn’t get anywhere near the front lines in the stupid war. Losing
Broderick was quite enough for me, I assure you.”

Gil’s mother paused a moment to press a linen to her eye
and catch her breath. Helene smiled. She didn’t mind being bothered at all. She’d been doing too much thinking.

“Not that Gil hasn’t thought of you, darling.  He asked, if I saw you that I
was to remind you he’s taking you driving after luncheon. Oh,
don’t look so crestfallen. It’ll be that time before you know it.”

Crestfallen?

“You know, we spoiled him terribly, but it was such a long
time between boys that my husband, bless his soul, had almost
given up hope. Then to find Gil asked Helen Bingham to be his wife! As fastidious as he is? I almost fainted on the spot. Oh,
dear, I’ve done it again. I do apologize. I keep forgetting how closely
you two are related. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?”

She continued without waiting for an answer.

“It’s such a classic story. I thank my stars Gillian spotted
you when he stayed at the Bingham estate. That’s on the road to Bath, isn’t
it? You mustn’t think we look down on you for any reason for being a poor relation, Helene. Gillian never gave it a second
thought. He was simply bowled over by your beauty the moment
he set eyes on you. I don’t blame him
.”

Helene forced a blush, acting as if she accepted the compliment for
what it was. A beauty? She’d never been a beauty. She had too
small of a mouth, her face was too round, and
she had a stick figure that no
amount of drapery disguised. And that was before her scarring.

“Of course, I’d hoped for a wedding at the St. George
Cathedral. After all, that’s where my daughters wed. Then I
could’ve exulted over Gil’s choice, but I quite understand. And I hold
Sir Bingham completely responsible.”

Helene nodded. It was true, in a roundabout fashion.

“Why, I really pulled off a coup, when my Eleanor wed the Duke of Belmister. I wasn’t quite as successful with Anne or Abigail, although I
made certain both became countesses. Of
course, Anne’s husband is a bit advanced in years…being eight years older than myself, but that can’t be helped. Rich, eligible earls do not fall out of the sky. And I know she thanks me every day of her life
for securing her future.

“Gillian’s always been a bit difficult, though. I don’t
blame him for being out of sorts with me over his desire to join a regiment,
but, after I lost Broderick, I couldn’t see sacrificing any more
Tremayne blood for that peasant uprising. You’re very fortunate that you escaped all that nasty turmoil, my dear.”

“Pardon?”

“Gillian told me about your parents’ carriage accident.
It was a blessing in disguise, although I doubt you felt that at the time. At least you were safely on British soil, and not anywhere near
that Robespierre fellow. I shudder to think of the horrors that
man inflicted, but it’s so removed now, isn’t it?

“Now that this Corsican, Napoleon, has opened the borders
again, we’ll be able to visit and see for ourselves, but I haven’t the courage
. Gillian might think it a grand idea, and I suppose
every woman wants to see Paris, but you’ll have to work it out with
him. I’ve tried to talk sense into the boy, but he won’t listen, and then he’ll punish me again.”

“Punish…you?”

“Well, not the way you’re thinking. Gillian wouldn’t harm a
soul. At least, I don’t think he would. Where was I? Oh, yes. Somehow he
found out I’d been behind his being excused from the first uprising…and he wouldn’t speak to me for three years. Three years! The most I
could do was listen to the tales about him and act like I knew
which lady had caught his eye.

“Oh, dear! Drat this tongue of mine! That’s not the sort of thing I should tell his wife. You’ll forgive me. Won’t you? I mean, y
ou’re so in love, I hope you’ll forget it. You’re
so lucky, my dear. I don’t mean that simply because I’m his
mother, although I
am
rather proud of that, but to catch my son, Gillian and find true love
at the same time? Heavens! It’s like a fairy tale come true.”

“He didn’t say where he was going, did he?” Helene asked
.

“Not to me. Laws, I’m grateful he even speaks to me. If I
hadn’t been up as early as I was this morning, I wouldn’t even
have the knowledge about your drive. He was a bit annoyed with
me for delaying his ride, actually. He always rides at the crack of dawn
when he’s in town. When we’re in the country, you can hardly get
him out of the saddle. I suppose he’s had an excuse for staying abed these last few
days, though, hasn’t he?”

It appeared the Dowager Lady of Tremayne had
better inquisition skills than Helene had ever run across —
without one word from her victim. No wonder Gil avoided her.

“Well, don’t let me keep you, dear. I understand Lady Bridget
will call for you later, and I try to avoid Dexter’s wife whenever I can.
It’s not that we don’t get along or anything. I’d hate to have you
think that. It’s simply that a woman’s place is beside her
husband, even in these war-torn, licentious days. Ah, for the old
days…”

Her voice faded as she walked off, and Helene dropped the society sheet she’d been looking over
. She wasn’t adept at reading. It was still a chore, but it did keep her occupied. Telling Gil the
truth and being rebuffed came as a blow. To
find him missing when she woke was worse.

She prayed he wasn’t stupid enough to want to visit Paris. If he did, she couldn’t go with him. The memories were too
painful. He must realize that.
Raised at Bingham Manor, indeed! Gil might call her a liar,
but his tongue was equally false.

***

“You’re quiet today, Helene. Since I know it for a rare
affliction, I’ll just pretend to enjoy it.”

Helene avoided answering, feasting her eyes instead
on the gentry taking the air in Hyde Park. When her maid first set out the organza dress, Helene protested, but Bridget
allayed her fears. Even with lace adorning each sleeve and ribbons tying her hat, embellishing her
shawl, and crossing under her breasts, she looked underdressed.

She would’ve liked a parasol to twirl, like the
Signora
Simone across the way. Of course,
if she had a parasol, she would’ve hit Gil with it the moment she
reached him in the foyer.

She’d been careful to tie the bow on the left side of
her jaw, but did he truly have to remark how sensible she was for
hiding her cheek?

“You’re not still angry at me, are you?”

He clicked his
tongue to the horses, flicked the reins across their flanks, and Helene didn’t bother to answer that, either.
Rain clouds gathered at the edge of the sky, and a brisk
wind blew through the trees. It was better to simply ignore him.
Not that it was easy. Gil was dressed in the height of fashion, with his greatcoat folded across his knees and a
top hat set slightly on his head. It was obvious. Every lady dropped her voice to a sultry tone when speaking to him.

“Signora
del Casta. My…how wonderful to see you again.”

His
tone was akin to a caress. Helene
looked away.

“Why…
Señor
Tremayne! And his little wife! I’d no idea you’d
be out today. Not that we can stay long, can we? I vow those
clouds look like rain.”

“That they do, Simone. And I see your concern. Water probably wouldn’t do your gown much good. My complements to your dressmaker. That creation is a measure of perfection as unique as yourself.”

“Thank the lord for that,” Helene whispered to herself.

“Oh. Go away with you, Gillian!”

The way Simone said his name sounded like a sneeze.
Helene nearly parroted it before catching herself.

“Why…coming from your tongue, compliments are like jewels.
” Simone answered.

Helene rolled her eyes and started toying with the ribbon trailing from her hat.

“I hear your mama is planning a huge ball, Gillian, and I
haven’t received an invitation. Such an oversight! I nearly had
the vapors when I found out, you naughty boy. You will see to it,
won’t you?”

“Any festivity, even a ball of the magnitude my mother is
planning, is like a downpour without rain...no – a candle without a
flame – if it isn’t blessed with your presence, Simone.”

Helene’s fingers had wrapped the ribbon into a little shiny ball, and then she
unwound it before starting it again. Driving with Gillian was
turning into an exercise in patience and tongue-biting. She wished she had
a parasol! At least she’d have a place of refuge while those two
flirted outrageously.

“Oh, you’re such a gentleman to tease me so! And a
newlywed as well. Ah.
Señor.
I vow, no rain clouds could cast darkness
on the sunlight you’ve brought to my heart.”

“Your servant, my dear Simone.” Gil sounded suspiciously
like he was almost laughing. “It’s been a pleasure to see you
again, hasn’t it, darling?”

His hand pinched her elbow, and Helene turned
automatically to the
signora,
sitting like a goddess in a leaf-green dress with black piping. Helene
smiled shyly.

“Forgive me. I wasn’t paying attention. Did you say
something,
Signora
del Casta?” 

She gave her best innocent expression and saw the woman’s eyes narrow.

“I wasn’t able to give you my regards before, Lady
Tremayne,” Simone replied. “I have invited your husband to my
casa
for tea today. I certainly hope that won’t be inconvenient for you?”

“I’m so sorry,
Signora,
but I don’t believe he’s partial to tea. And
I really believe one should do one’s tea-drinking in one’s own
bed. Oh! I mean...home.”

Gil snorted, and the
signora
looked
reasonably insulted. Helene
blanked her eyes and continued gazing at the woman.

“I beg your pardon, My Lady,” Simone said, “but I’ve never
heard of such a thing!”

“Of course you haven’t.”

That time, Helene used Simone’s
voice.
The
signora
glared at her and she didn’t look as
beautiful as she had a moment earlier.

“We should probably be moving on, Simone,” Gil inserted, and it really sounded like he was holding back amusement.
“Those rain clouds you mentioned do look ready to burst.”

“Will I see you at Almack’s? You must tell me so I
can be certain to be there.”

“I only went for Helene,
Signora.
I rarely do such boring
things if I don’t have to.”

“But I’d be there, My Lord.” She pouted.

“Just so,
Signora.
Are you ready to proceed, love?”

Simone laughed gaily, and Helene’s eyes widened. Gillian
had just delivered a
coup de grace,
and the woman laughed?

“Brilliance comes in such strange disguises, doesn’t it
?”

He winked as he shook the reins, but she looked away. She
couldn’t stand sharing humor in those blue eyes.

“Why didn’t you simply marry her, Gillian?”

She punctuated
the question with the
signora’s
peculiar way of saying his name,
and he smiled.

“I would’ve had to wait for the
Signora
del Casta to perish
first, love.”

“She’s married?”