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

by Jackie Ivie

  “We’re forgetting something again, aren’t we?”

  She gnashed her teeth. The way she said his name gave it away. “Gil.”

  “Lovely. But could you try to give it a bit more emotion? Just a smidge? Something that matches how besotted we are with each other? Why…we couldn’t live another day apart. That’s why Helen helped us arrange the switch-over at the wedding. It’s the lone way we could get you away from your overbearing guardian, Sir Bingham. Now, there’s a man who wouldn’t even let me court you properly. He wanted to save you for a debut. I’d be cut out by all the other swells. We couldn’t risk it.”

  “You’ve lost your mind, My Lord!”

  “Gil,” he snapped.

  She went hot with the blush. It felt awful. “They’ll never believe it, My Lord.”

  “Gil!”

  “You’re setting yourself up for failure. I’m not that good an actress. I can’t possibly fill the part, My Lord.”

  “Gil, goddamn it!” he shouted.

  “All right, Gil!” she shouted back. “You can’t see beyond the nose on your face. This won’t work! I refuse to be part of it!”

  “You lost that right when you said, ‘I do’, darling. So. We have an act to put on, and I think you’ll do splendidly. Why don’t we start right now? I’ll accept a little kiss as a token attempt.”

  “A...kiss?”

  The word was whispered. She was surprised it made sound as much as her lips were trembling.

  “Would it really be so horrid, darling? A kiss for your beloved? Just one?”

  She welcomed the dots before her eyes. Needed them. Prayed for them. Anything to obliterate the sight of Gil. Leaning toward her.

  “No! Please? No!”

  “Gil.”

  He was so close, his breath touched her lips.

  “I’ll do what you say! I swear! I’ll do anything.”

  “Anything?”

  “Yes, My Lord—I mean Gil.”

  “You said my name. Good. We’ll just call that a start. And just look. The sight of me still makes you swoon.”

  He kissed the end of her nose and stood back. Helene was shuddering so violently, it rattled the settee beneath her.

  “See you for luncheon, love.”

  He was whistling as he left her away. Whistling.

  Damn him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  They were expecting her for luncheon. She didn’t have a choice. Helene did her best to maintain an aloof air as she progressed down the stairs, looking away when she saw the mirror someone had replaced. It was a conspiracy against her, and she knew instantly who was responsible.

  Gil lounged in a chair, a wine glass in his slender fingers. Helene’s stomach fell at the sight. He hadn’t changed, and even in riding attire, he still looked perfect.

  She lifted her skirt with a shaking hand and hoped the material hid the motion. It would never do to have Lord Tremayne think she feared him. He was using his knowledge of that for his own ends, and she’d be damned before she’d give him more power.

  “There you are, darling. We were just about to come to fetch you, weren’t we?”

  Gil asked it. No one answered. Helene tried not to notice how easily he lifted from his indolent position to approach.

  “Look at me with those brandy-colored eyes. Not like that, love. Like you mean it. My. It’s a good thing she can’t strike me down with them, isn’t it, Reg?”

  He turned to his companion, awaiting them at the dining room door, and Helene swallowed while Gil wasn’t looking.

  “You’re not amusing, My Lord,” Helene replied when Gil turned back.

  “Gil.”

  He lifted his eyebrows and smiled down at her. His eyes were such warm pools of blue that her heart stumbled. Then it restarted at a much quicker beat, making it difficult to get her mouth to form words.

  “Um…very well. Gil.”

  “Oh come, darling. It’s a small price I ask, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Calling me by my given name. It’s a small price to pay for my unknowing duplicity in your escape from the asylum, isn’t it?”

  “Asylum?” She pushed the word past cold lips, but her legs refused to move.

  “Yes. Asylum. You coming?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Uh...Gil.”

  “Oh, that’s much better. To tell the truth, I was beginning to have my doubts, but upon hearing you say my name with such feeling, I’m gaining reassurance with every passing moment.”

  This is insufferable. She wasn’t saying a word. Not one.

  “Oh. And the lady Bridget won’t be attending luncheon today, love. Apparently, she was having difficulty with her gown.”

  Helene caught the smile that passed between the two men. “What’s wrong with her gown?”

  “Nothing that needs concern you, love. Come along now. It’s time to see just how much of a refresher you’ll need before we accept invitations that require dining. This is the correct way to seat a lady. Oh. My. You’ll have to sit more gracefully than that.”

  Helene glared into her lap, ignoring his jibe, because her legs had just given out and dropped her. He knew it, too.

  “A tender look wouldn’t go amiss, either.”

  Tender look?

  “Come along, love. Reg is waiting to make his evaluation. Aren’t you, Reg?”

  “To be sure, although, if you insist on digging into her shoulder that way, Gil, someone is bound to notice.”

  Helene smiled her gratitude at the smaller man then turned her face upward. Gil’s eyes were as warm as before. It had the same affect on her heart rate.

  “Very gracious, Helene.”

  “Go to hell,” she whispered.

  He bent and touched his cheek to hers. The slight scratchiness of his beard annoyed. And then it appalled. And then it sent shivers. He hadn’t even taken the time to shave?

  He stood, disconnecting from her. She almost touched the cheek where he’d just been, but stopped the motion at the last instant. And then he walked around the table to sit, facing her. She didn’t watch. She somehow felt it.

  “Mrs. Hotchkins has quite outdone herself this afternoon. Wouldn’t you agree, darling?”

  Helene picked up her spoon before looking across at him. “I’m certain it’s delicious, My Lord.”

  He tipped his head slightly.

  “I mean, Gil.”

  “Well, Reg, look there. It appears Helene’s table manners are impeccable. I’m beginning to rise from the depths of despair. We’ve only two more fences to hurdle. You’ll let me know when you’re ready to try your hand, or actually, I should say your feet, at dancing. Won’t you, Helene?”

  Her spoon stopped halfway to her mouth, and she watched the broth in it shimmer. Her entire body went cold, then hot. Dear God! Dancing? Anything but that. It was Gerard’s dancing tutelage that was responsible for…

  She wouldn’t think it.

  “Danc…ing?” she managed to ask.

  “Of course. We’ll need to attend at least one ball where we’ll be required to take a waltz or two. You do know how to waltz, don’t you?”

  “I…don’t know. Uh…Gil.”

  Perhaps Gil’s arms would feel different enough that she wouldn’t run screaming from him, looking for a weapon. Maybe. If she shut off her memory. Somehow.

  Oh dear. She was clinging to straws and knew it.

  “Well. My aunt can certainly help. She plays a fine waltz on the pianoforte. I can spell her if she’s still unavailable, however. That might work. If the thought of me fills you with dread, perhaps I’ll allow Reg to stand in.”

  “I look forward to it,” Reg answered.

  “Oh, please, My Lord! Please? Anything but that!”

  Tears filled her eyes, blurring him, and whatever expression was on his face.

  “You’re crying? Again? For the love of—! Look. Helene. I’m not asking for the bloody moon! All I want is a public
display of affection, enough to set the gossips on their ears. You can wash your hands of me afterwards. We don’t have to see each other ever again. Do you know how wondrous that sounds?”

  “You’ll get a bill of divorcement?”

  The words were tremulous, but intelligible. Good thing she’d waited while her tears got sucked back before saying them.

  “And give my mother a seizure? Not bloody likely.”

  “Then…how? My mind is not that befuddled. You’re not making sense. Without a divorcement, I’ll never be able to wash my hands of you, as you so charmingly put it.”

  “Well maybe you should’ve thought of that before you wed me.”

  Her spoon clattered to the floor, and Gil nodded to a footman to retrieve it. Nobody said anything as a new one was brought and placed beside her bowl.

  “That, most assuredly, is not the proper way to replace your silver, darling. Promise me you’ll work on it. Yes?”

  Reg cleared his throat, although, in the silence that followed Gil’s statement, it wasn’t necessary.

  “It’s common enough for husbands and wives to lead separate lives, Lady Helene,” Reg said. “What Gil is asking is, if you’ll help him regain his – shall we say – reputation? Yes. That’s a fair word. Gillian’s reputation has been damaged. He’s a laughingstock among his peers. Everyone is of the opinion that Helen put one over on him. It isn’t sitting very well with him.

  “Usually, he’s very charming and wouldn’t need me to cast light on the situation, but there it is. Your peace of mind and a comfortable existence at Tremayne Hall, in exchange for a few weeks of acting like you love him. It shouldn’t be too difficult. That is, if Gil can put some effort into it.”

  “She already knows the why of it, Reg. I don’t need your help.”

  “Well, I do,” Helene inserted, putting warmth to her voice. It was easy. All she had to do was mimic Mrs. Wright. “And I thank you for making it clear, Reginald.”

  Gil didn’t like either her words, or her tone. The way he gripped his spoon was demonstrating just how much he didn’t like it. But turnabout was fair-play, and he’d started it.

  “And I will say, if my freedom from him is at the end of this endeavor, then I can’t tell you how much I look forward to our lesson. Dancing, was it?”

  It turned out Gil had been right. Mrs. Hotchkins’s fare was enticing. Helene had no trouble enjoying every mouthful through the rest of the meal.

  ***

  She wasn’t smiling later when Reg threw his hands up in mock despair.

  “I’m sorry, My Lord,” she apologized. “Truly I am. Perhaps if you don’t hold me as tightly, I...won’t have this problem.”

  “I’m hardly touching you, Lady Helene, and you’ll never get the steps right if l don’t.”

  “Second thoughts, Reg?”

  Gil stopped the exquisite sounds he coaxed from the piano to look over at them with a cocked eyebrow.

  “No, he’s not,” Helene answered quickly.

  Very well,” Gil replied. “I’ll try another.”

  He began another piece, and Helene gaped in wonder yet again. The man had amazing music ability. She’d already gone slack-jawed when he first started playing since Lady Bridget had failed to appear.

  “Where’s Lady Bridget?” she’d asked.

  “Having a problem with her hair. She’ll be down shortly.”

  “Then...there’s no dancing?”

  Gil probably heard the relief in her voice. It would explain the merriment in his reply. He was almost chuckling.

  “Oh. I’m quite competent at the piano, darling. It’s something I was interested in before, well...before.”

  “Before soldiering?”

  She did her best to ignore the marquis standing in the center of the room. Although not as large as a conventional ballroom, it was still suitable for several couples. Her heart was giving her trouble. The memory of Gerard…

  Engaging Gil in conversation had seemed the lesser evil.

  “No. Before my marriage. Now go along, Helene. Go greet your partner and act like you’re enjoying this.”

  “You’re certain I won’t trip on your playing, My Lord?”

  He’d stood at the piano and given her such a look she should’ve guessed his expertise from the expression on his face.

  “Aren’t we forgetting something?” he’d asked.

  That’s when she’d turned toward Reg. She wasn’t playing his game anymore. And then the first notes had emitted from the piano, stopping her in place. She’s stared. Gaped. And then stepped on Reginald’s toes.

  And this time when she stepped on them, he swore.

  “Damn! Pray forgive me, Helene…but I’ve more to do in this life with these feet,” Reg told her. “I’m afraid I’ll have to cry off. I’m not such a good dancer after all. Gil? Your turn.”

  Reg limped toward the piano. Helene turned her back to them. This might work out just as well. She couldn’t dance, and since Reg had already confessed his ignorance of music, the dance lesson could hardly continue.

  Hearty laughter greeted Reg’s arrival at the piano. Helene refused to turn around and watch. So I’m no dancer, she thought. There are worse things.

  “Hi darling. It appears poor Reginald has taken a distinct dislike to your particular brand of dancing.”

  “I’m not dancing with you.” She spoke the words over her shoulder.

  “Oh, I quite agree. You probably aren’t dancing at all. But, as I still have on my riding boots, I’m better suited to your brand of torture.”

  She almost giggled and stifled it. “There isn’t any music, My Lord.”

  “Gil. And we won’t need any, love.”

  She gasped in surprise as he reached out, spun her, and then just lifted her right off the floor, holding her so closely, she could smell how unwashed he was — and it was heavenly!

  Oh dear.

  “Ah…you see how easy it is? One, two, three. One, two, three.”

  He twirled, humming as he did. Helene closed her eyes. That made everything a little better. But not much.

  “You’re so light on your feet. It’s a shame yon marquis hasn’t quite accomplished the correct way to dance with you.”

  “Oh, heave off, ye horse’s ass.”

  She hissed the words and opened her eyes for a fraction of a second, viewing one of his buttons before shutting her eyes again.

  “Oh listen! It’s Brandy! I knew you’d return to me, love.”

  Oh no. No. She hadn’t just slipped out of character. No. It wasn’t possible.

  “I don’t know...what...you’re talking about,” Helene answered.

  “And I refuse to believe that. But it’s no matter. Oh, look there. You’re shaking. And you missed a step. Remember, it’s one, two, three, love.”

  She didn’t know exactly when he let her feet touch the floor. It was like a dream. Music accompanied their steps, weaving some sort of spell about them. She didn’t want to open her eyes and change anything. His arm held her closely enough that when she stumbled, she didn’t fall, while the hand holding hers was sending lightning-like sparks through her palm.

  “That’s it, darling. You’ve got a natural rhythm. And I have to tell you, from the look on your face right now, there’s not a soul who’d doubt our story.”

  What look?

  Helene’s feet stopped. Gil stumbled. A sensation akin to ice water covered her, invading her entire frame. Salvation reached out for her as dancing dots replaced his face. This time, she welcomed the faintness. And then he ruined it.

  “Don’t you even think about it.”

  “I’m sorry, My Lord. I mean Gil.”

  “Oh. Fine. Then I’ll simply take matters into my hands again. If you aren’t able to stop me, I can just kiss you at will, can’t I?”

  Her eyes went wide. The dots vanished. She stared up at Gil. And he was smiling.

  “That was a lovely start, you two. Why…with practice, you and Gil will be the envy of any dance f
loor. I can already see it.”

  Lady Bridget spoke up, applauding from her position on the piano bench. She was joined by Reginald’s clapping. Oh, thank goodness! The music hadn’t been in her mind.

  “You can unhand me now...Gil.”

  The arm tightened. Her feet left the floor.

  “What if I say no?”

  He chuckled, and she felt it through his chest! She had to do something. Say anything. And quickly!

  “But…why would you do that? I agree with your plan. I’ll even call you Gil without being ‘directed to do so’.” She used his voice with the last four words, and his arm tightened so much she was having difficulty breathing.

  “Perhaps I like it, Helene. What would you say to that?”

  “I’d say yer a bloomin’ idiot, with no eyes in yer head, that’s wot I’d say.”

  “Guilty as charged,” he whispered.

  Then, God help her, his lips touched hers.

  She went so perfectly still her back rebelled, and then her legs and arms joined in, molding her entire frame to his. She moaned as her lips betrayed her too, parting to enjoy his mouth. Sensation crashed through her stomach, leaving a raging trail of shivers and then such heat filled her, she felt sure the flames might encompass her and consume her — and it wouldn’t matter.

  Gil pulled back, lifting his head, and he looked pale.

  “God, but you’re a lovely whore, Brandy-love.”

  “And yer a...silver-tongued...devil.”

  She spoke in gasps as he set her down.

  “Silver-tongued? All this time, I thought you disliked me because I wasn’t glib enough for you.”

  Oh heavens! She must be truly losing her mind. From one kiss? One, truly heavenly kiss? But for that one event, time and space had disappeared, along with all the horror. All the lies. All the scars. And now reality intruded. It was time to pay the price.

  God had no sense of humor after all. He probably didn’t even smile.

  “Forgive me, My Lord. I mean Gil. I can’t do what you ask. I simply can’t do it.”

  He let her go while she spoke. She wobbled for a moment.

  “You should’ve thought of that before saying ‘I do’,” he replied.

  “I am thinking of that. I regret it, Gillian, truly I do, but I can’t promenade to anybody, damn it! Use your eyes for a change instead of your overbearing sense of vengeance!”