Brandywine: Regency historical romance (The Brocade Series, Book 1) (19 page)

“What does Brandy want me to think?”

He unwrapped his
towel and dropped it, keeping his eyes on hers the entire time.

“Why, Brandy…you’re blushing,” he said.

“I—”

“Good thing I know how talented you are. And what a fine actress. Anything else might go to my head.”

‘I’m...not acting.”

She couldn’t help it — she had to look
away. He acted like it was nothing to stand, displayed for her, his hands on his hips. Sweetness! He was too devastating. She couldn’t even get her mind to function
.

“I see I’ll have to be blunt. You may say you’re not acting, but I don’t have to believe you.
You
do
have a penchant for lies. Remember?”

“Do you say that because I stood in for Helen? Or…is it because of how I survived the
sanatorium? Gillian…you don’t know what happens there! The
guards...they—um. They…rape the ones they lust after! And sell the others for pocket change. The quiet ones
can’t protect themselves! I had to be Brandy! After everything else I’ve been through, I wasn’t going to let that happen to me. I
protected myself the only way I knew how!”

“What everything else, Helene? And I have to come clean. I know the lie about
France. I must say you had me fooled, too. I actually believed your little trance
about the guillotine. I’ve rarely been so idiotic, except when I try
to find a spark of interest in you. Now that’s complete foolishness. No. I’d better call it true. It’s an exercise in
frustration. And I need warn you. I’m about as frustrated as I want to get!”

Gil reached for an undergarment and shoved his arms into the sleeves. And then he buttoned the entire front without even looking. With precision. Perfectly. She didn’t move her eyes from his.

“Now what is it? I told you I’d be dressing.”

“You said…you…didn’t believe me about...?”  She couldn’t finish. The words wouldn’t pass the knot in her throat.

“The tale about your parents being guillotined? You heard correctly. Actually, I rarely believe you about
many things. That’s just one of them.”

“But why? I swear—”

“Don’t!”

He raised his hand to silence her
. She backed a step instinctively. She shouldn’t have. Especially with how his eyes narrowed.

“I’m not a brute. And I’m not unfair. I checked your story. You’ve lived on the Bingham estate since being orphaned as a small child.
I thought
the story about the revolution very imaginative…and a bit romantic.
That gave me some hope, I admit. I was only fooling myself,
wasn’t I?”

“Who...would tell you such a thing?” she whispered.

“Gerard Bingham.”

“He lies!”

“And you don’t?”

“I only lie...to protect myself. I wouldn’t lie about something
so...horrid.”

Her voice cracked. And then he applauded.  

“Nicely done, darling. But you shouldn’t hesitate. It’s a bit too melodramatic, even for you.”

“Why would I lie?”

He shrugged, which raised his attire enough that her eyes
widened again. Her breath caught. Her pulsed hammered in a staccato rhythm in her ears.

“Why? Perhaps the role of poor relation didn’t suit. How
should I know the workings of your mind? You’ve done your best to confound me, after all. Don’t think I accepted Gerard’s word on it, d
arling. I ferreted out a bit of information from Sir Bingham and
his wife, and I can’t stand either of them.”

“They’re lying, too.”

“Of course they are, Helene. Everyone’s lying but you. Anyone with
sense can see that.”

She straightened at his tone and lifted her chin. “There’s no need for
sarcasm, My Lord.”

“Well, I do excel at it and I’d hate to see it wasted. But…can you tell me one
thing, darling? What on earth did you do to deserve being sent to the sanatorium?”

“Perhaps...you should ask Gerard.”

“I’m asking you. I can, of course, check your story later,
should I decide you might be lying about that, too.”

“I put a sword through him.”

“Good heavens! Whatever for?”

“He tried to—to…”

“Yes?”

“He wanted…what every other man wants.”

“He lusted for you?”

She nodded.

“Not hard to believe. And for that, you shoved a sword through him. A bit over-reactive, wouldn’t you say?”

“It wasn’t like that! He was supposed to be teaching
me...
dancing
.”

She whispered the last word. He pursed his lips for a moment, nodded, and then turned away, walking to his dressing table in order to fetch a pair of socks
. His undergarment wasn’t adequate. The hem barely covered his buttocks. She watched him sit on the edge of his bed and lift a leg to don one sock, and then the other. All the time acting like it was nothing! She was in luck that he was paying attention to his garters and not her.

“He hasn’t my touch, poor man. I suppose I
should count myself lucky you simply prefer to show me how
sharp your tongue is. In fact, I’m quite sure I prefer your disgust
now that I’ve heard the alternative.”

“Gerard will have a scar.”

“He’s probably fought a few duels.”

“Just below his breastbone. Right here.”  She pointed to her
side.

Gil smiled, but it didn’t appear to reach his eyes. “Anyone who’s seen
him unclothed would say such, darling. Credit me with some
intelligence, will you?”

She went white. And this time she
welcomed the dots that danced before her eyes.

“Come now, Helene. Swooning is hardly original. I’d
have expected better.”

She steadied herself with a hand against a bureau and shook in place. It wasn’t so
traumatic that Gillian Tremayne thought as he did. He wasn’t the first man to think so. He probably wouldn’t be the last.

And damn everything! Why wouldn’t her heart listen?

“I didn’t bed Gerard Bingham…or—or anyone else. I swear it.
”

“Well, Brandy sure as hell did. You can cease lying, Helene. It’s all right. I’m not annoyed. Or even interested.”

He sounded annoyed.

“Why would I lie, when…you’d be able to tell? You would…wouldn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t touch you, Helene, if you were the last woman on
the face of the earth.”

She had
practice in hiding pain. She needed every bit of it now. And maybe, if she concentrated on the bureau, he’d never know how hurtful that
statement was.

“A physician can be summoned,” she told the wood. “I’d…allow an exam.”

He hooted with laughter.
“And have it gossiped over how I had my wife examined for
possible virginity? When we’re play-acting that we can’t keep our hands off each other? Christ! I thought you had better sense.”

She tightened everything in her entire frame and concentrated on counting. Existing. Breathing. Hiding.
There was nothing left to say.

No one would ever know what it cost her to move away from the dresser and face him. No one.

“May I retire to my bath, now?
” she asked.

He neared, walking soundlessly across the wood floor. And then he stopped, just outside of arms length. Looking her over. Wordlessly. S
he didn’t flinch as his eyes hovered at her bosom
. She knew how small her breasts were, anyway. She’d seen what he
preferred, large women like the
signora.
She also knew she
couldn’t possibly tempt him with what he believed.

He nodded finally, and she walked with her back straight and her head high. He’d not know how her knees quivered with every step. Or how her hand trembled as it closed the connecting door behind her. Or how many tears the bath water had to absorb.

Brandy had been right after all. There couldn’t possibly be a God.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“
This new ball gown is lovely, My Lady,” Helene said. “It’s a
pity....”

“What is a pity, darling?” Gil’s mother replied. “I would never
have thought of such a green color for you, but Gillian insisted,
and that boy does have an eye. Of course he’d know exactly how much that color would enhance you.
The way it’s fashioned, you look positively voluptuous, too.

“I hadn’t any idea Gillian had such taste, or I’d have taken
him shopping with me, years earlier. The ballroom looks lovely, doesn’t it? I’ve
rarely seen it so decked out, except perhaps when I gave the
coming-out ball for Anne, and…when Broderick had his
going-away party.”

She wiped away a tear. “Dear me, such fustian. Fancy me
thinking of him on the eve of my special ball. What’s the world
coming to? I suppose Gillian’s already told you of our departure
this weekend? I’ll enjoy having another woman about the house
again, unless you’d prefer I take up residence in the Dower house?
I understand your need for privacy, my dear.”

She touched Helene’s shoulder with her fan.

“The nurseries have been so barren, too! Ever since Gillian left swaddling clothes, Nanny hasn’t a thing to keep her occupied. But I’m certain you’ll do something about that, won’t you two?”

Helene thought of several witty answers but the knot in her
throat prevented them from emerging. It wasn’t needed, anyway. The dowager Lady
Tremayne had no qualms about continuing the conversation by herself
.

“Are you certain you won’t wear the family emeralds, dear? I know they’re a devilishly heavy, but they were very expensive, and they’d go so well
with your gown. Please say you’ll wear them. You really look quite naked.”

Helene looked to the skirts of her gown and wondered how
anyone could consider this nakedness. The gown was at the height of
fashion, with a high waistline, small capped sleeves, and a low neckline,  She didn’t remotely feel naked — or the least bit attractive,
either.

“Here I go, monopolizing your time, but Gillian didn’t say
when he’d join us, did he? I’m so upset with that boy. I can’t
imagine what has happened to set him so against my wishes. He
knows better than to tag along with that Reginald Dunston. He’s a wastrel to his fingertips, my dear. Did I tell you he has his cap set on Lady Hermione Spencer? No? Well, he has to marry money,
and she has plenty, but she’s a trifle dull…not to mention she’s
taller than he is.”

That sent Lady Tremayne into a fit of giggles, which she hid
behind her fan while Helene tried to force a smile. Gillian’s mother was quite amusing, and, if Helene had to stand at the edge of the crowd, at least she had company.

She sighed and breathed slowly and evenly until the tears
dissipated. She shouldn’t be crying now! After all, the entire
evening’s expense was to show the town how blissfully happy Gil
was being wed to her, not Helen.

At the moment, she sincerely doubted her ability to carry it off.

Gil had deserted her since the accident. She wasn’t surprised. But he was ruining his own production with his absences. T
he servants had probably reported it, too.

“Do you know he even talked me into sending an invitation
to that
Signora
del Casta? Mercy! A faster woman was never born, and I
would
never
have invited her. Men! They seem to think a pretty face makes up for filth under the surface.”

Helene murmured something and looked for something to do besides watching the vision circling the dance floor in front of
her.
Signora
del Casta’s ball gown
was scarlet colored, with black lace. The woman was stunning, and knew it.

“Just look how she deports herself! I swear, it’s the height
of disgracefulness. Don’t you agree, my dear?”

Helene didn’t bother to answer.

“I can’t think what’s keeping that son of mine, Helene. He made a point
of asking when I’d start the dancing. I thought that meant he might dine with us, but he’s been in such a temper lately. I don’t suppose you’ve noticed, because I’m certain he hides his
moods from you, doesn’t he?”

Helene colored at that comment but held her tongue.

“Oh, look! There he is. See? I told you he wouldn’t disappoint us, and I’m right. Look who’s at his side. It’s Reginald.
I knew it. You’d think Gillian would find something better to do
today instead of following that boy’s lead. Oh, dear. He appears
to be a trifle foxed, doesn’t he?”

The way she said it spoke volumes, and Helene’s eyes
widened at the sight. It wasn’t so much that Gil’s immaculate
evening attire was the least bit disheveled, it was the way he
moved — almost swaying — as he approached the
signora.

Helene refused to watch them dance again. She didn’t think she could manage to act like it was nothing. She didn’t care how drunk he was. There was no excuse to give the gossips more
fodder.

“I…believe I’d like to try on the emeralds after all, My Lady.”

The older woman beamed.

“How nice you’ll look, too! You’ll
put a definite thorn in that woman’s designs on my son.
Come along, dear. We’ll ask the secretary to fetch them to the blue
salon.”

She said more, but Helene wasn’t listening. She
wasn’t even watching where she put her feet. Gil was waltzing with
Signora
Simone, and the sight made couples leave the floor just to
watch. Helene wasn’t a good enough actress to pretend she didn’t
care.

She didn’t care where she put her feet. She didn’t notice how the beautiful skirts swished as she walked. She didn’t even note how much time passed until she was sitting in a chair, feeling the weight of the stones against the back of her neck. And she didn’t even know how she got there.

“Ooh! Isn’t that lovely
? I told you the stones would match, and.... You’re not
looking, Helene? Come now, dear. Take a peek.”

Helene couldn’t think of one good reason not to look in the mirror. So, she took
a deep breath, opened her eyes…

And stared.

Her hair had been parted in the middle and curls laboriously
crimped into it before the hairdresser pinned it up. Her eyes might even be as burgundy-shaded as Gil said, her mouth was still the same…and there was only one little mark under her left eye.

There was no big scar, no misshapen eye, no redness. N
othing.

Shock made her heart hammer. Shock and an instant trace of sadness. She looked almost exactly like her mother. And Valerie Montriart had been known as a beauty. While the memory pained, it also fortified. Her chin lifted and then her eyes narrowed. That bastard! He’d lied to her! All those little asides about her scars…and he’d been lying to her?
Ooh.
Gil had better hope he was still dancing when she returned to the dance. Helene was afraid of the anger flooding her.

“...best get back now. I vow, the later these things go, the
more my feet hurt! But, oh. I shouldn’t complain, should I? Not
when there’s plenty of time left for dancing. I look forward to
watching you with Gillian. Come along then.”

She didn’t wait for Helene, but she didn’t seem to ever wait
for anything — comment, answer, or companion. She simply kept
talking and expected someone would always be there.

Gil must’ve felt Helene’s eyes boring into his back. He
turned as she approached the refreshment area
.

“Darling! There you are!”

“Gillian.”  Oh dear. She should’ve waited. Her voice was taut. Cold.

He bent one arm around her waist and pulled her right against him. “I’m ever so much happier now that you’re here.”

“Careful with your performance, love.” 

She went on tiptoe to whisper it into his ear, holding onto his arm as she did.
The muscle moved beneath her fingers. And then all of him was moving. Right to the dance floor, with her in tow. It wasn’t going unnoticed. He wasn’t careful where he walked, and their arrival caused more than one couple to stumble. The man was ludicrous.

“I’d love to dance with you, Helene darling.”

He had her hand in his, and one arm about her back. And it felt heavenly. No. She mustn’t think that. She was angry at him. Wasn’t she? And she couldn’t stay. Her heart couldn’t handle another rejection. And she knew it.

“Let me go, Gillian.”  She pulled back, but all that happened was the arm at her back flexed.

“But, why? I made certain there weren’t any swords handy.”

He chuckled at the end of that statement, and she might be avoiding looking at him, but it was a distinct pleasure to feel his toe under her foot.

“Oh.
After all our practice, I’d forgotten
how to dance with you. Stupid me.”

He shook his head and lifted her feet off the floor. Now she really was against every part of him. It was too intimate. And wonderful. And heavenly. And wrong. And it had to stop.

“You’re drunk.”

“Not drunk, darling. Foxed. It’s a much better term.”

She could hear the whispers. And laughter. And intercepted more than one shocked glance. He was inviting
comment, and there
wasn’t a thing she could do about it. Except…

“
Put me down, Tremayne, or I’ll make a scene,” she informed him 

“You’re a bit angry, aren’t you? But why? I did nothing with the
signora,
I promise. I’ve been spending time with Reg, I swear. In fact, I
don’t even like tea, remember?”

“I’m not angry about her, Gillian!” 
She tipped her nose toward his neck and hissed the words at his collar.

“Of course you are. But you shouldn’t be. I already explained.”

“I don’t give a damn what you do with the
Signora
del Casta
!”

“I love it when you lie, Helene.”

“Put me...down.”

“No.”

He demonstrated considerable prowess in the next few
steps.

“Gillian.”  She said the name through clenched teeth, and watched his jaw tighten.

“I love to waltz, don’t you?”

“You’re impossible to talk to in this condition.”

“No, darling. I’m just impossible to argue with in this
condition. Try to keep your words straight, will you? I’m having a
bit of difficulty. Here I am, executing fairly intricate dance steps with your
beautiful body in my arms while trying not to fall at the sight of how much bosom you’re exhibiting. And you want to argue?”

“Gillian!”  Her voice sounded strange in her own ears
.

“I love holding you, Helene.”

No.
She mustn’t listen. She lifted her head and looked away. And noticed they were the lone couple on the floor.

“There isn’t any music, Gillian.”

“Really?”

“You’re making a scene.”

“Well…it was my turn, darling.”

He waved with their conjoined hands toward the minstrels’
gallery, and another tune started to blend with the renewed sounds of
amusement.

“I’ll die of embarrassment.”

She put her forehead to his shoulder. She might as well give up. He was impossible to argue with, and she really didn’t want to. Not when he was like this. Inebriated enough to want her.

“Oh, please, Helene. Call me a brute. Yell your head off,
but don’t expect me to believe you get embarrassed. The little nymph in the tree wasn’t embarrassed. Do you have any idea how you looked?”

“Pray tell,” she said mildly.

“Like a drowned mouse.”

He roared with laughter, and she
shut her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see everyone’s reaction.

“That does it. I don’t have to put up with your insults a moment
longer. And you know something else? There’s not a thing wrong with
my face, either!”

“I know. Didn’t I just compliment you on it? My memory’s a bit fogged,
but I’m fairly certain I said you’re beautiful, and you said...w
hat did you say?”

Her voice warbled. She couldn’t prevent it. “Gillian, you’ve been using every opportunity to make me
think I was scarred. And you know it. There’s absolutely no
reason for you to do that.”