Read Online Brandywine: Regency historical romance (The Brocade Series, Book 1) by Jackie Ivie - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jackie Ivie
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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
“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
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