Brandywine: Regency historical romance (The Brocade Series, Book 1) (13 page)

Three maids entered the room, laden with trays. Two of them blushed and bobbed curtsies. The other sent a sly look toward where Helene perched at the headboard, swathed in linens that should’ve
been covering the ticking.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, Gillian?”

“I didn’t ask for your company, Bridget, so I’ll thank you in
advance to keep it to yourself.”

Lady Bridget laughed and poured herself another shot from Gil’s bottle. “Not that I’m a judge, mind you, being a prime
example of wedded acrimony and all that. Why…I’ve
not even seen my delightful spouse
for...going on five years, wouldn’t you say?”

“More like ten.’

She laughed. “A total mismatch, Gillian.”

“I’ve a bit of experience in that line.”

“No. Not you. You’ve got a perfect match, if I’m not mistaken, yet you
act as if you’re looking at her through a fog.” She continued as if
he hadn’t spoken
. “Not that she’s been easy, mind.”

She wagged her finger at him, and he smiled.

“You’re a bit foxed, aren’t you?” he asked.

“It was my turn. And you’re prevaricating. We’re discussing your problem and how to solve it.”

“Marriage advice? That’s what you’re giving me?”

“Take the girl and make her look at herself. I daresay half your problems would be solved in the time that little exercise takes.  Speaking of exercise, where the devil’s your riding
companion?”

“Reginald? Probably at Almack
’s, awaiting our arrival.
Perfect match,
indeed. I thought she might be starting to develop a decided tenderness for me this morning. To tell the truth, it frightened the
daylights out of me. Don’t laugh. It did. I even insulted her
acting ability to get over the moment and felt like a total fool.”

“You, frightened? Why, Gillian, I’m beginning to think
there’s rhyme and reason to the universe yet. You don’t know
what you’ve got there, lad. It’s a powerful thing.”

“
Now I know you’ve had too much. Spare me the
lecture. The last thing I want is to be saddled with a wife who fancies herself in love
with me.”

“You don’t have to pretend to me, Gillian, dear. I’ve eyes in
my head and ages to watch. Pour me a bit more and fetch the girl.
She’s a darn sight prettier than your dear old auntie, and her
tongue will keep your wits sharp and interest piqued. Admit it, love. She’s not the least bit boring. That’s one thing I remember about dear, old what’s-his-name. He’s a most boring husband.”

Gil looked over the rim of his goblet at her. She
was right. Her husband, while sporting passable looks,
had a penchant for moors and hounds and writing on his memoirs. He was decidedly boring.

“Dexter is that, all right,” Gil agreed. ‘Whatever possessed
you to marry him, anyway?”

“You were too young yet, boy.”

Gil lifted his glass in salute, and then stood. “Make her take a
look at herself? You really think she’s worried about her face? It
healed ages ago. You can’t tell beyond the slightest droop of
her eyelid.”

“She doesn’t know that, Gillian, my love. She had all the
mirrors banished from your Grandmama’s, and I’ll bet my bottom
shilling she’s avoiding them here, too. Besides which, she’s still
using her outstanding defense technique. She can’t possibly tell
you her problem when she’s pretending that Brandy doesn’t exist. And here
I thought you had the intelligence to sort that out. Face it, lad. She’s a gem. And not that difficult to understand.”

“She’d confound the entire medical community
.”

“It would give the buggers something to do with their time, then. Gillian?”

He waited at the door, and she winked.

“Act the Hun, darling. I rather think she liked that.”

He rolled his eyes.

***

Helene looked down at the beautiful, light-green satin dress
that had been sewn for her and thought she’d cry her eyes out at
the first opportunity. It had been especially difficult to abide Lord
Tremayne’s odious presence all day, and now Almack’s!

“I’ve heard of this strange custom you’re attempting, Helene my dear,”
Gil said, “but, to be honest…isn’t keeping me waiting over two
hours an exceptionally cruel punishment? They don’t make these
collars comfortable, you know.”

He looked spectacular, as usual, and if wearing his high,
starched cravat was uncomfortable, it didn’t show. He looked impossibly handsome standing at her chamber door, his arms
crossed as he appraised her.

“Not to mention Mother,” he added. “There’s a woman who
hasn’t wasted her time waiting for your appearance. I believe
she’s planned the entire week’s meals, selected a month worth
of apparel, and driven the staff mad with her continuous
chatter.
I sincerely hope you have a good reason for this delay
. I’m fairly certain our arrival will be the main event. In
which case, an hour would’ve been sufficient for a grand entrance.”

“I’m not going.”

“Really? I’m not at all surprised to hear that.”

“You can say I’m ill, that I’ve taken a chill. There’s no
reason to act here, My Lord. I’ve already dismissed the maid, as you can see. There’s no audience, servant class or otherwise.
Don’t you take another step!”

She should’ve spoken before he reached her.

“Right. You’ve
obviously forgotten our arrangement, and I’m deuced tired of
reminding you of it. By the by, isn’t there a powder or other
concoction we could use on your face?”

He’d reached her, and while the hands on her arms hurt, it was nothing in comparison to his words
.

“My...face? You-you’re abusing my time, Lord Tremayne.”

She
gave the lie away the moment she moved, turning her left side
toward the room’s shadows.

The hands on her arms tightened.

“Lord Tremayne?” he asked. “I’m of a mind to teach you the
proper way to address your beloved, and it’s not Lord Tremayne.
The proper way to address me is Gil, damn it!”

“But you aren’t partial to Gil-damn-it.”

“I’m not partial to anything you do, Helene, my sweet. I’m
heartily sick of the sight of you!”

“There is a God!”

She sighed and looked heavenward,
ignoring the pressure on her arms. And he was more than stupid if he thought
pain would get him what he wanted.
Hard lips slammed against hers, stopping every thought. And then - Heaven
help her - her fingers found his jacket lapels, scraping against satin as she clutched it. He groaned and lifted her
.

His mouth moved against hers, shoving
her lips open to flick his tongue against
hers. Oh, my! It was a good thing he was holding her because otherwise, she’d have fallen
.

“Goddamn you, Helene.” 

He put her on her feet and shoved back, but her fingers didn’t move
.
His cheeks were flushed becomingly, and the depth and power of each
breath told more than his lying tongue. He wasn’t unaffected. It showed.

“I...I suppose you’re attempting to get me to acquiesce, My
Lord. And I have to point out, that you’d best look to your own reaction first.”

She thought for a moment, that she finally goaded him into hitting her. And for some reason, the thought hurt more.

“Don’t you ever fall short of words?” he asked in that
frightening whisper of his.

“That will be the day, My...Gil.”

He smiled slightly at that, and then it faded. And then she watched him look her over. And then he met her eyes and winked.

“You’ll pass, Helene.”

“Please don’t make me go, Gillian! Please? I’ll do anything!”

“Seems to me I’ve heard that vow before.”

His fingers covered hers, where they still clung to the blac
k satin of his jacket. It wasn’t lover-like. It was to remove her.

“I’ll pretend I love you! I’ll even let you...um. You know. In my
room this morning, when you wanted to—uh. Well, when you
wanted what you wanted.”

She was trembling, but it wasn’t noticeable. Because he was laughing.
She pulled herself up as stiffly as she could.

He was laughing?

“Does that mean you’re going to come willingly, Helene?”

“Please don’t make me, Gil. Please?” Moisture obliterated
his face, but she didn’t blink it into existence.

“Tears again? Jesus, Helene, I’ve had a gullet full of your sobs
. As for your face, if it doesn’t bother me to pretend I
love you while I have to look at it, there’s no reason for such
dramatics on your part, is there?”

She slid her hands from beneath his and f
ussed with the ribbon beneath her bodice before she looked up. He was standing there as if he’d said nothing of importance, with an arm out to escort her.

“So now, you’re
ready to attend?”

“Do I…have a choice?”

She stammered. Damn everything. Her teeth wouldn’t stop chattering.

“Of course. We can stay up here while I do whatever
I wanted to this morning, or I could haul you downstairs over my
shoulder, which should entertain most of the servants. It might give my valet fits over the use of
this fine dinner jacket. And let’s not forget what Mother might think of the situation. Of course, she might think we act that way as a normal event,
given the state of your bedding this morn.”

“I’ll go! Just don’t say…another word.”

She was in her own personal hell, because the arm under
the material of his jacket was finely sculpted, and her fingers told
her so.

***

Being ignorant would’ve been better.

No, that was stupid.

Knowing what awaited her at Almack’s would’ve given her a
weapon to use sooner. Why…as
far as she was concerned, he could’ve bedded half the
ladies in London, gambled away several fortunes, and frequented every den of iniquity he wished…as long as she didn’t have to act
like she was madly in love with him while he did it. Thinking it wasn’t helping. There was more. And it was worse. Watching him with other women felt…odd. Strange. Her
entire body chilled. She couldn’t possibly be
jealous. No. She’d commit herself back to bedlam
if that were the case.

Helene shouldn’t have worried about the interest shown in their arrival. There wasn’t enough room to circulate properly, let
alone garner reactions at her presence. The place was stiflingly crowded. She didn’t know that Almack’s was the place
where an
ingenue
must be seen,
but as far as Helene was
concerned, it was sadly impersonal — until she made her bow
before the dowager’s bench. And then it became
very
personal.

“I believe you’re the one with ties to Miss Helen Bingham?” one of
the matrons asked
.

“Pray, don’t tell anyone,” Helene replied
.

The woman looked shocked for a moment, and then she laughed aloud, which must be a surprising event, as much attention as it mustered.

“Priceless, Tremayne,” the woman said. “You’ve my congratulations. Enjoy the
dancing.”

“Charmed, Lades. As always. Helene?”  Gil dipped a bow and moved them away, although, if he
hadn’t been there, she’d have never made headway
.

“Dancing?” she asked. “What kind of dancing can
anyone do in here?”

She managed to ask the question as she was jostled against Gil. Maybe that was why he held her tightly about the waist. The crowd.

“Your kind of dancing, of course.”

“In that case, I’m in luck, no?”

“Just don’t get lost. Christ, you’d think they’d find a way to air out the room. It’s so hot, I’m sweating like a stuck pig.”

“Your romantic comments turn my head.”  She waved to Reginald, who gestured them over.

“Reg!” Gil said. “I’ve been cursing you most of the day. I
don’t suppose your ears have been burning? Well, lean over. Give me a fair shot at
them, old boy, and they will.”

“He’s uncommonly civilized this evening, Helene. You’re to
be congratulated.” Reg took her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles.