Brandywine: Regency historical romance (The Brocade Series, Book 1) (5 page)

He almost prayed he was wrong.

“What happened to your papa, Helene?”  He whispered in the stillness.

She turned wide eyes on him, while her mouth went to a complete snarl.

“Goddamn ye, Brandy! I done
tol’ ye to get back, but no. Ye had to watch, didn’t ye? I tol’ ye
Madame la
Guillotine
wouldn’t be a sight for young eyes, and I sure as hell can’t carry ye. I
can barely move my own hide.”

“But...my papa! They’ve gone and....”

Gil watched her wretch unconsciously, knowing it was no sham. She looked ready to fall from her chair. Then she wiped her hand across her mouth and glared across at him.

“Get up, Brandy! Get up! The whole city’s gone mad, and I can’t keep ye
safe no more.”

“No, Sherry! No! I’ll do anything!”

“Ye’d best start, then! This guv looks meaner than all me other
customers, and he’s comin’ this way!”

Gil wasn’t surprised to hear that yell of hers. He still jumped slightly. And the chair creaked. He
suspected she must have invented that shriek of hers then, and it served her so well, that she’d spent the intervening years perfecting it. The sound finished echoing in the enclosure. Shockingly loud to have come from the lady sitting across from him,
looking at him with glazed eyes again,
while a slight smile hovered on her mouth.

“Helene?”  He asked softly.

“Cor, but I took ye fer a brainy chap, and here ye are gettin’ all confused
again. The ladies must ignore yer lack of brains in favor of yer looks, don’t they?
Don’t sit there lookin’ at Brandy like that. Ye knows that Helene chit is dead and buried over in France, she is. I done tol’ ye so already.”

“I thought you were going to trust me for a moment there, My Lady. I
honestly did.”

He shook his head, and the sorrow on his face made something twinge
deep inside her, down where she’d buried Helene. Brandy wished she could make it
better, see his blue eyes light up with interest instead of looking at her as if he was
ready to throw up his hands - but hell would have to ice over first.

***

“That’s a luv. Pin it nice and tight so Brandy can be sure of yer
intentions.”

She gasped exaggeratedly while the seamstress
tried to measure her. The woman’s hands trembled so hard, it was impossible to
tell how she managed to hold onto her pins. It was probably more due to how Gillian watched from over at the door. Arms crossed. Leaning against the jamb.

“You shouldn’t make the poor dear suffer your presence, My Lord. Can’t
you see she’s at her wit’s end protecting my virtue?”

Brandy lifted her head and cackled, more to prevent a blush than anything
else, but he wouldn’t know that. The sound jarred with the refined voice she just used. She watched Gil
watch the seamstress’ eyes widen and knew she’d conquered another person with her act.

“But darling. I’m a newly-wedded husband. I really thought you’d enjoy
my...presence, as you put it,” Gil replied.

The seamstress turned a glorious shade of red, and Brandy nearly matched
it with his insinuation.
Damn him!
she thought. It was bad enough he’d
brought this woman and now made Brandy stand, nearly naked, for her. And he’d threatened her. If she refused, he promised to
hold her in place with his own hands. What a sly one he was.

It
was just unnecessary
that he was stunning, too.

Brandy had seen the look in the sewing woman’s eyes when she first saw
Gillian Tremayne. It took all Brandy’s will not to react at the time. Curse the
man and his entire staff of tender-hearted fools! They’d be better off wasting their time and energy on the horses than her.

“My Lord, if I may interrupt?”

Brandy looked up as another of her jailers knocked. She was just thankful it was another female. Since he’d decided his wife needed a new wardrobe, she’d feared what would happen, and look. Here it was.

He’d hired a Mistress Vale to fashion a complete wardrobe for his wife. Mistress Vale did have a way about her. She was quite artistic. T
he fabrics she was bent on draping Brandy’s body with made her swallow more than once. It was insane. The grand fellow, Gil, shouldn’t waste his funds
dressing her so beautifully and elegantly. It was stupid. And generous.

And wonderful
.

“What is it, Molly?”

“It’s the Lady Bridget, My Lord. She’s waiting your presence in the
morning room. Mum.”  She bobbed a curtsey to Brandy at the end of her
announcement. Brandy barely acknowledged, while Gil frowned.

“I should’ve known it wouldn’t last,” he said. “No matter where I hid, she’d find me.” He smiled at Molly, who blushed.

Brandy opened her mouth to chide the little snit, and then snapped it shut. What was she thinking?
If a simple chambermaid blushes at his smile, what’s that to me?

“Tell her I’ll be right along, will you, Molly? I’m not quite finished here…w
atching my lovely bride.”

Brandy glared
. He smiled right back at her, and damn it, if she didn’t blush just as much as Molly had. Oh! He was horrid.

“I trust you’re not uncomfortable with my presence, love?” he asked.

He’d called her that endearment so often it should be sticking in his craw
by now. Yet this time, with the warmth he was using, Brandy didn’t know if her
swollen tongue would let her reply. He disarmed her so easily, it was as if she
had no wits at all.

“Well, yer piece is beginnin’ to pall on me, she is,” Brandy replied. “Could
ye be a nice little lad now an’ take a bit o’ air? It would do us both good, it
would.”

“My piece?” 

He choked, and she raised her chin.

“And then there’s yer lady below, too. Cor! But yer a fine one, what with
keepin’ the three of us waitin’ on yer favors.”

Mistress Vale dropped her scissors, and Brandy easily sidestepped, ignoring whatever expression Gil had on his face.
She told herself she didn’t
care about his reaction, anyway. But when he laughed, her glance slid back to him.

“Oh, you’re right, my love,” he said. “But I’m afraid Lady Bridget’s wait might just be beginning.
I have the notion that I’m more needed here. What do you say to that?”

“I say yer daft, that’s what. Do ye think we need an extra pair of eyes to see a
gown fit?”

“No...but I’ve noticed how much you seem to enjoy my company. And if I
combine that with the things we say, I feel I’m much more needed here.”

“Cor Guv, but yer an honest sort. I’ve a hankerin’ for a good fit, I have.”

“Really? How odd. A fit is exactly what I’m afraid of, darling.”

Brandy looked at him as insolently as she could, but it was more difficult
than she expected. In his buff-colored pantaloons, tucked into shined Hessian
boots, leading upward to a perfectly-fitted dark-blue jacket, he looked more heavenly than she remembered. She
had to look away first.

“Take your loving presence and go, My Lord,” she said. “I have tired of
this game.”

Mistress Vale’s mouth fell open. But Brandy had
no choice. He’d won. She waited for him to leave. She’d stand quietly for her
fitting while he entertained a lady love below, and she wouldn’t even make a fuss. That was probably what
he wanted.

Damn his hide,
she thought.

“You sure you don’t wish me to stay?”

The words came over her shoulder. He didn’t have to sneak up on her that way! His question caused shivers all through her. She watched the
seamstress look up at him and had to take a deep breath before she snarled at the girl’s reaction. Gil wanted it that way, too. He knew women trembled at his proximity. He probably did it on purpose. And there wasn’t anything she could do about it with three dozen pins stuck to her. She looked over her shoulder at him.

“Absolutely.”

He had magnetic eyes. Truly. It was such a shame.

Why did it have to be him? Why was he the only one who could crack her facade and look beneath?
She’d banished Helene Montriart Bingham to the grave the instant her
cousin, Gerard, had touched her, yet this handsome god of a man was able to
resurrect her almost at will. It didn’t seem possible.

Oh...if only Helene really existed. If only the whip hadn’t
slashed as deeply, or the knives with less venom, less scarring, perhaps then....

She felt her eyes fill with crazy tears as she thought it, and it was ever so
hard to banish them. Why should the thought of scars bother her, when
she had everything that used to mean heaven? She had a soft feather bed to sleep in, servants to cater to her every whim...why, she even had a seamstress to design
and make beautiful clothes for her. The memory of her ugliness shouldn’t matter
.

“You’ll tell me the secret for doing that one day, won’t you, my love?” he asked softly.

CHAPTER SIX

“You say she’s mad?”

“Well…she says she is. Her family thinks so. Me? I have my doubts.”

“I’d like to say ‘you poor boy’, but you look more like the old
Gillian. You always had a knack for falling into scrapes, now didn’t
you?”

He flushed at his aunt’s appraisal and waited while she
sampled the cordial. Never one for tea, Lady Bridget set her own
style, preferring spirits to the sop that most gently bred ladies
drank. That was just one of the things Gil adored about her.

“
I thought it was something I’d long outgrown,” he replied.

“Come now, Boy. Imagine my shock when I read your
mother’s message. Marrying that horrid Bingham girl, and without a word to your aunt! For shame.” She wagged her finger at him
and then grinned. “Why, I’ll have to replace every servant in my villa after the way I departed. Remember, you owe me for that, too.”

“I always take responsibility for your servants.”

He grinned,
and she threw back her head and laughed.

“So tell me, Boy, when do I get to meet the new Lady Tremayne?”

“You don’t.” 

“Hmm. So. It’s to be that way, is it?” She gestured for Witherspoon to refill
her glass.

“What way?”

“It’s obvious you’ve been had, and your mother’s fit to be
tied, she is. So, confess. Whatever the girl is like, it can’t be worse than the
real Helen, can it?”

“Undoubtedly.”  He tipped his glass to her.

“Come now, Gil. You’ll have to produce her sooner or later.” 

“I’d prefer later.”

She laughed again, and Gil almost gave in, but it wasn’t
Bridget he was worried about. If anything could’ve intrigued her,
it would be Brandy’s antics. It was Brandy he felt concerned with. She’d just shown
him Helene. Even if he had to threaten her with his touch,
the sight almost took his breath away.

“Sorry, Bridget. Not this time. You’ll just have to be thwarted. I’ve
pressed her enough just to get her to stand still and be measured
for clothing. Christ, you’d think I was torturing her. She’s my wife, for God’s sake! Legal. And locked. And sealed. I had Reginald check,
and there’s no doubt, although her family was a bit surprised to find out where
little Helene was.”

“They expected her to still be in the asylum?”

“I gather they never bothered to check.”

“Disgusting.” She heaved her considerable bulk from the
chair. “Well, Boy. My bones ache from travel and I could use a rest. Point me in the general direction, and I’ll find
a chamber for the night.”

He waved her out and stared thoughtfully at the chair she’d vacated.

***

“Could we start again in the morning, Mistress Vale?”
Brandy asked. “I’m afraid this is too strenuous an exercise just
now.”

“Of course, My Lady.”

“I suppose you’ll have your days filled now, won’t you, what
with the enormous wardrobe that man is bent on buying me?”

She probably deserved the look Mistress Vale gave
her.

“It’s not that burdensom
e, My Lady. I’ve done far worse for my
coin. I didn’t have your luck, finding a rich, handsome husband like
you did.”

Brandy bit back an instant retort
. The woman’s jealousy was fogging her mind, it was.
Wedding Gillian Tremayne wasn’t luck. It was life or
death.
An enormous woman peeked into the chamber, before entering, shutting
the door furtively behind her. Brandy’s eyes widened. The woman
wore every imaginable color in her attire, from her purple-tipped
hat to her yellow-and-green checked skirts.

And Brandy wasn’t the only one staring — Mistress Vale almost
choked. She wouldn’t have lasted one day at the sanatorium.

“You’re Helene, aren’t you?” the woman asked.

Brandy glazed her eyes over as the woman approached,
ignoring the seamstress. It was as good a time as any to
start counting.

“Helene, is it? Cor! Yer under the same illusions that dream man is. Helene?” She guffawed as much for the effect as for the seamstress spilling a roll of velvet in her haste to stand.

“Take care now, Lovie,” she said. “I’m certain there’s men
a-plenty out there fer ye. And mind now…Brandy will find ’em fer ye. I
promise.”

Another guffaw and Mistress Vale put her hand to her
cheeks and fled. The large woman at the door pivoted to let her
pass.

“I’
m sorry. I must’ve mistaken the room. Silly of me, isn’t it?”

“Silly of me, isn’t it?”  Brandy watched the woman’s jaw drop as
she parroted her words and exact vocal scale.

“You’ll need to pardon my silks, M’Lady. I’m havin’ a wardrobe fitted.”
Brandy curtsied, holding out the skirt of her nightgown. “That
woman’s crazed, she is. Just look at the mess she left. Why…if that
handsome Tremayne fella saw it, he’d beat her for certain, he
would.”

“Gillian wouldn’t harm a soul.”

The woman placed her hand on her
ample bosom as she spoke, and Brandy narrowed her eyes. Her
count had hit twenty-seven, and the woman’s defense of Gil
made her stumble.

“Oh no? Well, he’d harm little Brandy, he would.”

She took particular pleasure in shoving down her nightgown
and listening to the woman’s shocked gasp as she saw the W scar.

“I
only remark on this scratch, ‘cause I take it you’re the ladybird he’s seein’, but cor, I don’t think you’ll last. He’ll kill ye with
his lusts, he will.”

She winked and twirled atop a bolt of taffeta. “Then again,
ye might just sit a bit on ‘im. I’m sure that would bring ‘im
around, if ye leave ‘im a bit o’ air from between yer thighs.”

Brandy halted as the woman roared with laughter. Then, she put her hands to her ears in faked shock.

“Lord-a-mighty! I think you’ll scare ’im more with that yell o’ yers. But tell me, i
ffen I had somewhat with which to bargain,
would ye be a-willin’ to try it? I’m not certain sure, but I’d try to
gather an audience, too, and we could make a couple quid. What
do ye say, Madame?”

“I say you’re absolutely perfect for him.”

Brandy stumbled off the bolt of cloth and stared at the
woman before clasping both hands to her breast.

“Cor! Ye wound
me to the quick, Lady. Take a knife an’ hack out a piece of me
black bosom, but don’t threaten me with the sight of him. He’s
enough to make me swoon, he is.”

“Oh. Yes. I gathered that by the way you speak of him. Dream man,
indeed.”

“His looks are enough to’ make the ugliest doxy run fer
cover, Mistress. Why, I nearly lost me sup when I first beheld his face.”

“Of course you did, dear. And I don’t blame you for doing it
so poorly, either. Those blue eyes of his are enough to make any
woman swoon.”

“It weren’t his eyes, Mistress. I was weak, I was.”

“And why wouldn’t you be? Any woman would get that way from being in his arms…
and such arms. Wouldn’t you agree? Why, I wager he could even lift a maid as
healthy as I am.”

“The devil you say! Health it’s called? Why, Mistress, ye
give the cows a bad name.”

“Oh, that’s a worrisome thing for you to say, dearie. I’ve
spent a fortune trying to lose some of this health.”

“Ye got it wrong, Mistress, an’ I’ll have to wash me hands
of ye, I will. I can see yer beyond any help poor, little Brandy can give
ye.”

She stood, shaking her head sadly at the mountainous woman standing by the door, nearly giggling at the way her
feathers bobbed onto her nose.

“Why would you say that? Here I’ve stood, working
these poor legs holding me up, and you tell me it’s for naught?”

“Now, don’t ye go an’ take offense at Brandy’s tongue,
Mistress. I swear I’d cut it out myself iffen ye do, but it’s as plain
as the nose on yer face, it is…although, with all the frippery ye wear, it’s not surprisin’ yer nose can’t tell.”

“Riddles again? Lord, you’re quick. I’ve half a mind to sell
tickets to your showing, I am.”

“Exactly! Why, half a mind is what ye need, Mistress. Everyone
knows the quickest way to a delightful stick figure like Brandy’s is to
have a nice, comfy stay at the sanatorium. They treat ye ever so nice there. And don’ ye fret none. They’ll be sure to help ye
.”

“Do you think they’d take me, though? Truly? I’ve way too much
gold and more than enough influence. That makes me a poor
candidate for the guest list, wouldn’t you say?”

“They’re sure to overlook it, iffen ye grease enough palms.
I’ll even put in a good word fer ye, I will.”

“You’ve almost talked me into it, dearie. But tell me. Do you think I’ll be
lucky enough - assuming they accept me - to find my own dream man,
too?”

“Oh, go on wit’ ye! Teasin’ Brandy wit’ yer words. I already
tol’ ye he makes me eyes sore with just the looking.”

“Looking isn’t what you’re supposed to do with a man like that, girl. Why, a soul would think you’re daft the way you talk.”

“The way I talk? The paddy wagon should’ve snatched you
up long ago.”

She answered in Bridget’s voice and waited for her reply. And then Lord Tremayne spoiled everything by applauding from
the doorway.

‘Why, if it isn’t the grand Gilly himself, come to my rescue,”
Brandy said. “What took you so long? This woman has a tongue
sharper than any knife. Leavin’ me in her company is worse than
the boiling of your oil.”  She shook her finger at Bridget as she
mimicked her voice.

“I tried to ignore you two,” Gil replied, “but, when Mrs.
Wright threatened to leave if I didn’t handle the racket, I had no
choice.”

“Mrs. Wright’s still here?” Bridget asked. “Point me in her
direction, Gil darling, and I’ll go have a spot of tea.”

She bobbed her head again and feathers bounced with
it. Brandy wondered how Gil could answer with a straight face.

“Right. You’re having difficulty with my pointing, Bridget,” he said.
“I won’t hold my breath waiting to see you drink tea.”

“Perhaps she likes her tea without so much soap, love,”
Brandy said.

“Soap?” Bridget inserted. “Why. Gil. You’ve changed. Your wife
tried to warn me, but I wouldn’t listen.”

“Warn you about what?”

“Why, how much the sight of you makes her swoon.”

Brandy choked and covered her face with her hands so they
couldn’t see anything that was happening.

“She said that? Truly? Well. There might be hope in this world yet. But I have to ask. Now
that you’ve gone against my wishes and met the new Lady Tremayne, what do you think of her?”

Brandy held her breath and counted with vicious intensity, wondering why it was
so difficult to ignore what was being said.

“I think she’s an absolute delight.”

Seven
,
eight... Lord, did she just call me a delight?
She
peeked through her fingers and saw Bridget smiling as if she
meant it. And that’s when Brandy
decided she really was going mad.

“I’ve got to hand it to you, Gil,” Bridget continued. ‘You’ve gone
and nipped the bud. The Lord strike me down right here if I don’t mean it. Don’t let her out of your sight. She’s priceless. You have my heart-felt congratulations, my boy.”

She slapped Gil’s back with a hearty blow, then Brandy did
something so horrifying it was no wonder they both stared.

She burst into tears.