by Jackie Ivie
“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. The 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…watching 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 w
ife, 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 burdensome, 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, iffen 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?” B
ridget 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.
PART TWO
Helene
CHAPTER ONE
“I’m sorry to intrude, My Lord, but there’s a Sir Gerard Bingham calling. He claims to be your brother-in-law, but I left him in the foyer, anyway.”
“That was impudent of you, Riggs, and I heartily approve.” Gil tossed off his whiskey, wishing it were the brandy he’d so recently run out of, and made a face at Reg. “Got here awfully quick, didn’t he?”
“You’ve been here nearly a week without fulfilling your obligations. Considering you’re supposed to be in seclusion, I’m surprised he’s here so quickly.’
“If you’d leave off that Scots brew, Reg, you’d realize how stupid that just sounded.”
