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

by Jackie Ivie

  “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?”

  “That’s the usual way one becomes a signora, Helene. Her husband stays in their villa in Venice, and she plays among the gentry in London. She’s never shy of company, though. I assure you.”

  “Including you?”

  He shrugged and stared over the horse’s head. “There’s no accounting for taste, Helene, my love. And yes. I’ll admit a certain weakness for blondes.”

  “You’re disgusting. I suppose you admit to a weakness for...Helen, too?”

  “That’s the usual way to find oneself in Helen’s alleged condition.”

  The ribbon was going to come off at the way she yanked on it. Helene forced herself to calm. She did not love him. She was not jealous. She didn’t care who he bedded and how many. She did not love him.

  But she was lying.

  “I’m rapidly losing my desire for your company, My Lord.”

  “Oh, come now. When did you ever desire it?”

  “Last night,” she replied.

  She hadn’t planned on answering at all. And the moment she did Gil flicked the reins, bypassing the front of the Tremayne townhouse as he drove on.

  “You’re different, Helene,” he said finally.

  “I know. Unlike your preference, I’m not a blond by any stretch of the imagination.”

  “That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

  His voice was a bit higher pitched than she remembered. She wondered why.

  “Do I? To your way of thinking, it’s perfectly correct for a married woman to have affairs…and I’m still reeling with shock. Marriage means...I don’t know! I only want what my parents had. They loved each other! My mother would never even look at another man, and she’d never entertain one at tea such as that trollop does. And I have to tell you, she might not charge, but she’s certainly not very discriminating.”

  “My thanks. Compliment taken.”

  “You should take me home now, My Lord. It’s starting to rain. Here we are, flirting with a soaking, and after a warning from that woman, too. Where are our wits?”

  She looked away, working to get her breathing under control as the first raindrops touched her face.

  “You’re jealous.”

  She heard the smirk in his voice. It made her answer harsher.

  “No! I—! Never!”

  “Liar.”

  The clouds punctuated the word by opening up.

  “You love me,” he said.

  “Oh, no. Never!”

  “Yes you do. Say it. You love me.”

  “I hate you!”

  “Love me.”

  “Hate you!”

  “Love me, damn it!” he shouted.

  “I can’t stand the bloody sight of you!”

  And that time, she shoved him. The perfect circle of his mouth would’ve been amusing as he fell, except that a lightning bolt shattered the air nearby, startling the horses, and everything happened at once. Helene grabbed for the reins, but they slipped over the foot rail, and she never had a chance. His horses were perfectly capable of running anywhere they wished. Screams didn’t make the animals any calmer. A row of perfectly groomed trees flew by.

  Lord Tremayne’s driving curricle was well-sprung. That was the only thing keeping it on its wheels as the team reached the end of the park and turned back in the other direction. Helene wasn’t screaming anymore. She was clutching the backrest, and finding it hard to breathe through a cloudburst that was starting to weigh down her ensemble, too.

  She ducked a branch, but her bonnet wasn’t so lucky, and then she couldn’t see for an entirely different reason. Gillian should’ve hacked off all her hair if what he’d saved was about to get her killed. Another branch barely missed her head. And another. And then she realized the obvious. She had to save herself. Nobody else was going to do it.

  Again.

  Her chance came almost too soon. She grabbed the next branch, nearly sliding from it before hooking a leg. And there she clung, while the branch swayed with her weight. The ground looked too far away to jump, so she climbed atop the limb and just clung there. Gathering her wits. And her breath. Sounds of the carriage coming to an ignoble end came through the rainfall. Helene couldn’t see, but the crash sounding none too gentle for any female passengers aboard.

  Then she heard Gillian, and the horror in his voice stopped her heart for a moment. Water filled her skirts, weighing her down. Bark dug into the palms Mrs. Wright had spent so much time on. She knew it had also destroyed her stockings, mutilated her petticoats, and shredded her skirt. Her thighs felt scraped. But before she could assess further damage, she heard a shot and almost fell.

  A shot?

  “Gillian!”

  Her shout didn’t make much sound. It would help if she could see, or if anyone was about to assist. But that was never her luck. Her future health depended solely on herself once again. Trees hadn’t the shape or consistency of the drain pipes she once climbed with the grace of a thief, but they proved just as slick. Helene lost a slipper. And then the other. While the limb bent and swayed beneath her.

  “Ah. Good! A groom. Fetch another mount! And see to the carcass, will you? No. I doubt a sawbones will be needed. She’s not hurt — not yet, anyway. The last I saw, she was up a damned tree.”

  Gil’s words whistled past, paralyzing her. Carcass? Oh, Lord! He put one of those beautiful horses to death?

  Shaking overtook her, rocking the bough with it.

  “Ah, Helene. There you are,” Gil said somewhere below. “Really, darling…if you wished to climb trees in the rain, I’d have given my permission.”

  He may be drawing out the words, but there was anger behind them. Rain plastered hair to his head and clothing to his body. He had two deep rents down his shirt, and one knee of his trousers was split.

  “I’m having another mount brought, since I had a bit of a problem with my chestnuts.”

  “I...am sorry, My Lord.”

  “I can’t hear you.”

  “I said I’m sorry!” The branch rocked.

  “Oh. Not yet. But I’ll be certain you are.”

  Helene’s nose pressed against the bark and she hugged into i
t.

  “Do you need a hand down?”

  She was four feet over his head, yet it seemed like three times that distance.

  “I’m waiting to assist you…but if you delay much longer, you’ll probably be mistaken for a woman of loose morals.”

  She lifted her head and whispered, “Go away!”

  “Not by a long, bloody shot, my dear.”

  “I don’t need...your...assistance.” Her teeth chattered, ruining the statement.

  “You expect me to believe that? Now, come along. Jump down like a good girl.”

  “No.”

  “Does everything have to be a bloody fight with you? I’m soaked to the bone. My dignity wasn’t the only thing bruised when I fell. I just had to shoot a very valuable and beautiful animal, and I don’t have any patience left to deal with you!”

  “That’s why...I’m...not coming down.”

  “You’d rather stay up there?”

  “Y-y-yes.”

  “Hogwash. I’ll tell you what. You’ve a very shapely leg. Even with ripped stockings. And I’m not immune to your charms.”

  Helene gasped and lost her tenuous hold. Fear closed off her throat and stifled any scream. Then she landed. Right in Gil’s arms.

  “Very nicely done…and here I was beginning to doubt my charms.”

  “I...I can walk, My...Lord.”

  “And you can hush, too. Just hold onto me. The least you can do is share some comfort with me.”

  He nuzzled her collarbone and then her lips, and the next moment he collapsed onto the grass with her astride him. And that’s when she brought Brandy in to save her. Because someone needed to.

  “Sharing comfort it’s called now?” she asked. “Just when I think I’ve about...got yer figured out, my fine dream man…ye have to go and get drastic.”

  “Well, drastic times require drastic measures.”

  But Brandy wasn’t much help. She was helping him kiss her, greedily sucking rain from his lips. It felt wondrous.

  “You’re a witch, Brandy love. You know that?” The words were whispered against her cheek.

  “Aye…and yer a silver-tongued devil. Someone should’ve warned Brandy about ye.”

  He spat out strands of sodden hair and grinned. Her heart leapt, her breath caught, her senses reeled. She’d fought it long enough, and he was right, damn him. Even Brandy couldn’t hide from this truth.

  She did love him. Excessively.

  “Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me you like my punishments.”

  “I like ‘em fine. Punish...at will.”

  “It’s too blasted wet, and starting to chill. What say…you take the bottom and spare my britches?”

  She laughed and somehow got her legs to work enough to stand, albeit shakily. He probably was feeling every bit of that, although where she’d been sitting had been perfectly warm, if a bit damp. She averted her eyes as he stood, straightened his apparel, and then turned his head as not one, but four grooms arrived, with as many horses.

  Gil walked over to one, placed a foot in the stirrup and mounted. And then brought the horse over to her.

  “Come along, darling,” Gil said. “Join me. And as soon as we reach the house, I’ll order a bath. A hot one. Because that’s what I’ve decided for you — a very hot bath. Give her a lift up someone, and let’s ride. We’ve given enough of a show for one day.”

  Reaction was setting in. She didn’t feel the groom’s hands about her waist as he lifted her, and by the time they reached the townhouse, she couldn’t feel her feet or lower legs, either. Gil must’ve sensed it, because he held her in place on his saddle until he was dismounted, then pulled her off and into his arms again.

  “Good heavens, Gillian!” His mother’s words met them even before they entered the house. “We’ve been distraught with worry. They said there’d been an accident, but no one had any answers. You’re not hurt? Either of you? Thank the Lord. Why I’d have—”

  “Mother, have a hot bath sent up to Helene’s rooms.” Gil walked past his mother.

  “Of course, darling. I’ll have it seen to immediately. The poor dear will be all right, won’t she?”

  Helene rubbed her nose against Gil’s sopping cravat and actually felt him gulp before answering.

  “The bath, Mother?”

  “Of course, dear. Of course! It’s already seen to.”

  The fire was being lit as they walked in. The chambermaid blushed and curtsied after Gil shoved the door open with his shoulder and just stood there, dripping on the polished wooden floor. Helene didn’t watch beyond the first glimpse. It was better to just snuggle against his neck, breathe in his scent. Numb her mind. She knew when the maid left by the way he swiveled to let her pass.

  “You can put me down now, My...Gil.”

  “I’ll put you down when I’m good and ready. And I’ll let you know when that is. Besides, I’m beginning to think my arms are locked in this position.”

  “Yer compliments turn me head, me fine gent.”

  He slid his glance sideways at her. Their gazes connected. And something happened. Her heart reacted with it, flooding her cheeks with heat. And then her bosom. And then her entire form until she wasn’t remotely cold.

  Anywhere.

  “Hold that thought for a little longer, would you, darling?”

  She nodded. He twisted his head toward the hall.

  “What the hell’s taking so long?”

  As if his shout was the signal, a stream of servants entered, the lead two carrying the most enormous tub she’d ever seen, while the others bore cans of boiling water. They traipsed into the room over and over again while steam started warming the area. Gillian leaned against the bedpost, holding her close to him the entire time. He was probably keeping water damage to a minimum, but she ignored the idea the moment it surfaced.

  They’d finished, and by some unvoiced command, the last servant closed the chamber door. Leaving Gil and Helene alone…with a wondrously hot bath. His arms loosened, and he lowered her to her feet. Helene unfolded and walked stiffly to test the bath with her wrist. It was perfect.

  “Sorry, darling. The water’s not for you.”

  He lifted a leg toward her, and balanced his back against the bedpost.

  “Not...for me?”

  “Of course not. And if you don’t help me off with these boots, it’ll be cold before you get to use it.”

  “Help...with your boots?”

  “You can bring back Brandy now. I’m quite certain she’d enjoy the chore. I’m going to need an assist with undressing, and then I believe I’ll need one to bathe. And you’re going to provide it.”

  “Why...are you doing this, My...uh. Gil?”

  He snorted and let his leg fall. His boot heel thudded against the floor.

  “This is your punishment, remember?”

  “Punishment?” The word was barely intelligible. She was surprised it made sound.

  “You just caused me an excessive amount of trouble, and for what, pray tell? A little teasing? Well…I’ve decided to test your avowal.”

  Helene shivered in her ruined organza dress, torn stockings, and bark-filled petticoats while he watched her dispassionately.

  “Perhaps I’d enjoy your ministrations more if you removed your clothing first,” he said. “I daresay I can get my own boots off while I watch.”

  The dress was sodden and felt worse than seaweed, but she wasn’t parting with it so easily. “You, Sir, are a barbarian.” She walked to him and knelt at his feet, trying her best to keep her dignity.

  “And you, my dear wife, are a lying, street-wise whore. I believe that makes us even.”

  She was grateful to be looking at the floor. No matter how teasing he sounded, his words cut. Wounded. Pained. She blinked away tears and held out her hands, and he placed one of his Hessian boots in them.

  “I also order you to bring Brandy back. If anyone washes my back, I want it to be her. Do I make myself clear?”

  The boot
in her hands shimmered as she carefully sucked back the tears.

  “Ah, Guv. Look what ye gone an’ don. Ye frightened away that milk sop, Helene. Why would ye go and do that, when all Brandy’s good fer is a quick tumble?”

  “Because that’s precisely what I had in mind.”

  She was counting before he finished.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “How the blazes do these come off, anyway, Guv?”

  “Usually with a good shove. Would you like me to demonstrate?”

  Helene sat on her haunches and surveyed his booted foot. After prying for some time, she’d barely managed to get it past his heel.

  “You shouldn’t wear ‘em so tight, but I suppose yer after the ladies’ reaction to yer legs, aren’t ye?”

  “Close enough. I don’t think the ladies spend too much time looking at my lower leg for some reason.”

  “Course they do! Why, yer every inch a fìne-lookin’ gent, an’ I’m certain the ladies notice, I am.”

  “Hold on tightly this time, Brandy love, and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

  He leaned back against the bedpost, put his other foot on her shoulder, and nearly rolled her over with his shove. It had worked though. The boot was in her hand. She almost crowed with accomplishment, before stopping it.

  “That’s about wot I’d expect from a gent after all, an’ yer not so different, are ye, Luv? Givin’ Brandy a bit o’ yer foot, and slick as a blade, that boot’s off. Why, I never seen the like.”

  “Doing it rather brown, aren’t we?”

  Gil used his iron-hard whisper, making her avert her gaze to the boot in her lap. She didn’t answer. She didn’t know what he wanted to hear.

  “Come along, then, and let’s get the other off. I can’t stay this way all day.”

  He’d peeled off his stocking, flung it toward the fireplace, and stood on his bare foot now with the booted one lifted. The move defined every bit of him, and made her swallow more than once. But it was her own fault. She hadn’t had to watch.

  “Now’s I know how it’s done, there won’t be any reason to snap at me, Guv. No reason at all.”

  She waited until his foot was against her shoulder, but this time she did fall over when he pushed.

  “Ye did that on purpose!”