Brandywine: Regency historical romance (The Brocade Series, Book 1) by Jackie Ivie Read Free Book Online

squeezing her flesh. Gil was shocked. Totally. That’s what made his next words whispered and harsh.
    “Have a care, Brandy-love. It wouldn’t take the slightest effort on my part to end my own misfortune. Right here. And right now. There’s not a soul that would blame me, either. You understand?”
    He watched her eyes clear as she blinked. Then he felt her slender throat swallow against his palm.
    “Yer…loving…leaves me breathless…M’Lord.”  She choked the words out although it had to hurt.
    Gil opened his fingers, cursing beneath his breath. He couldn’t meet her eyes, and focused instead on her nose. And then he stood, towering over the bed.
    “Forgive me, Helene. I don’t know what came—”
    She interrupted him. “Don’t call me that, dream man. Ever. Helene’s gone. She’s gone and buried in gay Paris, she is. But don’t fret none. We’re well-rid of her. She was a stupid twit, all airs and girlish nonsense. Not at all like Brandy. Now, that chit’s got sense. She just hasn’t got any luck, poor thing. Poor little thing.”
    Gil watched her dab her eyes with the edge of the coverlet, acting so much like Mrs. Wright he almost smiled.
    “Poor thing. Poor little thing…”
    She was rocking and crooning and directing her words to the coverlet at her cheek.
    “They should’ve silenced you the moment you arrived at the sanatorium.” 
    The look she gave him was one of such pure agony he could almost feel it. The weak side of her face fell.
    “Do you know what happens to the quiet ones?”
    Gil swallowed, disbelieving he’d just heard such a clear, aristocratic voice coming from her lips. He knew he was finally hearing the real Helene Marguerite and she sounded completely sane. He shook his head.
    “Why…that’s just what Brandy suspected, Guv, so it is. Do you think you can separate that Mrs. Wright from her hanky long enough to come and visit Brandy? Tell her Brandy’s right sorry she’s been extra work. And Brandy understands work. What will the neighbors say?
    “In between their arguin’ and lovin’, they run mightily to tellin’ tales, iffen ye knows what I mean. Now, run along my handsome dream man. Brandy will be just fine now. You’ll see. Brandy just wishes she’d met up with all this a bit sooner. That’s it. That’s all it is.”
    She sat, shaking her head sadly as Gil stumbled backward. Once again she made him escape. Hell. He was almost running. His eyes blinked rapidly as he turned back at the door.
    “You have a care now. You hear?”
    She lifted her head and blew him a kiss making the gesture randy and lewd. Gil yanked open the door and fled.
    ***
    Brandy shivered in her silken drawers, heavy muslin nightgown, and embroidered bed-jacket and wished she was back in bedlam where she belonged.
    The bed’s softness made her legs and arms numb if she lay too long in one spot, the candle didn’t shed enough light on the bounty all about her eyes, and that Mrs. Wright and her battalion of maids were so kind, it was hard to bear. On reflection, she knew she’d never experienced such misery. Bone-wracking cold should be freezing her limbs into a ball instead of a feather mattress, goose down pillows, and God help her if these weren’t real, finely woven linen sheets.
    She was in heaven…but it wouldn’t last. Brandy didn’t deserve such molly-coddling. She knew better than to enjoy it because it wouldn’t last. She’d be cast out. And soon. And that would be pure hell. Pure. She didn’t know if she could bear it. A body shouldn’t have to experience such luxury just to know it would end. She wondered if such bliss would be worth the pain when the good lord Gillian Tremayne tired of her game and ejected her.
    Brandy looked about what she could see of the room. It might actually be worth it. She didn’t have enough experience to know how it would feel. She watched the room waver with tears she couldn’t send back before turning her face into a pillow.
    Her