Brandywine: Regency historical romance (The Brocade Series, Book 1) (6 page)

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.”

Reg finished his glass, ignoring the jibe while he refilled it. “Allow him an audience, Gil. It’ll be damned amusing, and you
could use that.”

“If that was all I needed, I could take Simone up on her
offer. She’s called every day since Wednesday.”

“You’re not seeing her again, are you? I thought you had
better taste. What am I saying? You
did
propose to Helen Bingham.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Gil shoved out of his armchair and
advanced to the fire, nervous without knowing why. It was bad
enough having Helen’s family bother him without sending one of
the biggest buffoons Gil ever met.

“I wish my life were as exciting as yours,” Reg said. “I have
a ruin for a castle - a deplorable state, I assure you - and my
parents won’t let me follow my heart to wed as you did. I have to
hold out for an heiress.”

“It’s a good thing I like you, Reg.’’ Gil glared at him before walking
to the window.

“A very good thing.”

“So. Back to the immediate issue. Shall we put up with the swell or sample another whiskey I
just procured?”

“Satisfy our curiosity or drain more from your well-stocked cellar? Devilish choice. I, for one, would choose the cellar every
time.”

“Good choice. Riggs, you heard the man.”

Gil’s manservant bowed before leaving to obey, but he made
it a point to walk past Sir Gerard. The man had such shifty eyes, one had to watch the silver around him.

“You haven’t had a change of heart?” Reg asked.

“About Bingham? Let him rot,” Gil replied.

“About your wife. I don’t think you’ve attended to one thing
I’ve said, and look at me. Awash with curiosity.”

“Not to mention suffering through your dear mother’s interrogations.”

Reg coughed behind his hand, but his eyes danced. “You could have my tongue the moment I told her anything.”

“Come on, Reg. Curiosity is eating at you, but I have to beg off. I won’t relent.
When I think Brandy’s ready, I’ll introduce you to her, not before. You’re lucky. You should see
how many I have to turn from my door already.”

“Can’t I just have a peek? You won’t have to let her know I was there.”

“She’ll know, Reg. She’s got your voice down, so she knew
the last time. Besides, your mother would pull the rest of your hair out if
you didn’t tell her. I’m sorry. I won’t have any more gossip until
Brandy’s ready.”

“Well, barring the remark about my hairline, and I’ll have you
know that salve Witherspoon gave me makes it fall out faster than
ever, but…when the devil will she be ready? You’re the butt of jokes
down at White’s. And unless we can produce a wife, Runyon won’t be
satisfied.”

“So that’s what’s bothering you.” Gil chuckled. “And here I was
beginning to think you’d turned into a gossip monger. All this time,
you were concerned about adding more to your bulging coffers.”

Reginald looked at his sleeve and dusted away an imaginary
speck. “As I said before…I haven’t your luck, and Runyon won’t
release my quid. He doesn’t believe the bet’s a wash, and that
there are two Helen Bingham’s. I have to admit, even
I
shudder at the possibility, and I haven’t seen yours yet.”

“You won’t until she’s ready, either.”

“Well, when the devil will that be?”

“Christ! How can I tell, the way she acts? I’ve never seen
that many tears, and each time she catches sight of me, she starts
up again. I have strict orders to stay away until Bridget sends for
me. That, my friend, is why I can’t take you.”

“Orders from Lady Bridget to stay away from your own
house?”

“Not mine, Reg. Grandmama’s. And I dare say Bridget could
keep out a battalion if she set her mind to it. So. There you have
it. My fate rests in Lady Bridget’s hands. I’m left with little to do
except entertain the likes of you.”

“Speaking of entertainment, Gillian, your man’s been away
some time, and we do still have an audience with Sir Bingham ahead of us.”

“Ah, yes, Bingham. My almost-brother-in-law. Sometimes, I truly believe in fate, Reg, when I contemplate what marrying Helen really meant. Well. Might as well
have the swell shown in, and we’ll have a nice chuckle when
he’s gone. What say you?”

“The whiskey’s probably better company.
1
’

Gil gave Riggs the order.

They didn’t wait long. The man who walked in had such a
resemblance to Helen that Gil narrowed his eyes. How in blazes
had he ever found such blond, insipid looks attractive? They were good enough for a night’s pleasure — and the ruination of his
life, the little witch!

Gil had been in hiding at his townhouse, the front secretary littered
with dozens of invitations which he carefully avoided, especially if
the invitation came from a Tremayne. His mother and sisters were
shocked at his quick wedding, and he couldn’t admit the reason and that
Helen had threatened to expose his deed with a maid.

The whiskey settled at the back of his throat.
Maid, my foot
.
Helen claimed more lovers than a working girl. Gil should kick
himself for succumbing to her wiles, especially when what she really wanted was
to be Lady Tremayne and wasn’t above blackmail to get it.

“Good eve to you both. It’s the devil’s own night out there, My Lord.”

Gerard
inclined his head and sat beside Reg. Gil smiled as Reg moved his
arm away.

“I wouldn’t know, Bingham,” Gil replied. “I haven’t your
penchant for visiting so late.”

Gerard colored at the rebuke, while Reg nodded and lifted his
glass in salute. Gil studiously ignored him.

“You have a point there, My Lord,” Gerard said. “Hand me a
quaff of that whiskey, would you, Man?”

Gil watched Riggs hand the visitor a glass, and they waited
while he drank.

“That’s much better. Really, My Lord, you’d think now that
we’re related, you wouldn’t be calling me a visitor. Where
is
Helen, by the way?”

“As far as I know,” Gil replied, “she’s enjoying her new
status as Countess of Chaffin. She and the earl eloped, you know.”

Gerard Bingham choked on his whiskey. Rather than assist
him, Gil and Reg ignored him, exchanging amused glances.

“But...I saw you wed, My Lord.” Gerard sputtered over his
stiff cravat, spotting it with whiskey-tinted spray. “My father gave the bride into your
care. I heard the vows. Didn’t you hear them, Lord Reginald?”

“Most assuredly,” the marquis replied in a bored tone.

“You’re funning with me, My Lord. I should have known
you’d be too much for Helen.”

“I’m grateful for your estimation of my abilities, Bingham, but I
misjudged Helen. Sounds like you did, too.”

“What the devil does that mean?”

“Only that Helen handled me quite well. You see, she wed
me — most legally — to your long-lost cousin, Helene.”

“Did...did you say Helene?”

Gil watched Gerard adjust his cravat, probably for air, since
he still hadn’t regained his color.

“I did.”

“She...she hasn’t mentioned me, has she?”

“Helene hasn’t mentioned your entire family, My Lord, but I
daresay her sojourn in the sanatorium probably didn’t put you in
her best graces.”

“Is it possible for me to see her?”

“Why solicit her good graces now, Bingham? Not that I care,
but I fail to see where it would be of any benefit.”

“I was against the idea from the first, My Lord, but my father
wouldn’t hear differently. She...she needed the rest. That’s what I was told
.” He mopped his eyes with a lace handkerchief, and Gil
frowned at the obvious display of regret.

“She means something to you, then?”

“Of course she does. We were raised together, damn it!”

Gil stiffened, feeling a chill run through him
. He opened his mouth to ask, and then shut it. Suddenly, he
needed MacGruder’s bottled stock. He walked to the sideboard and replenished his glass while Gerard kept glaring.

“That places an entirely different light on it, Bingham,” Reg
said. “Helene is claiming a childhood spent in France. That would be a difficult
feat to accomplish, would it not?”

Gil’s gratitude showed in his face as Reg asked, ignoring the
man at his side as he examined his glass in the firelight.

“Of course she does,” Gerard said. “My uncle married
Valerie Montriart, after all. Until their death, Helene lived with
them. She’s told you some story, hasn’t she? Not that you’d know
her penchant for lies, but really. Why do you think she was at the sanatorium in the first place…for her health?”

Gil watched the man laugh before flinging his glass across the room and into the
fire. The instant flare stopped Bingham’s laughter.

“Now, Gil....” Reg began.

Gil ignored him and stood at his full height to glare
down at Helene’s brother. “I suppose that next you’ll tell me her parents didn’t die by the guillotine, either?”

Gerard gave what probably went for a smile.

“She told you that? Well, I don’t blame
you for believing her, My Lord. She has a tongue best suited for
lying, after all. But no. My uncle and his French wife had a carriage
accident when Helene was a small child. Her grandfather, the
comte, couldn’t keep her safe, so he sent her to us. She was about
six at the time.

“I remember how small she looked, and not a bit like our Helen.
That was a strange thing my uncle did, wasn’t it, naming his
daughter after his brother’s. I suppose it’s not that amusing now, given the circumstances, is it, My
Lord?”

Gil didn’t know what to answer or how to phrase it. He’d never felt so out-of-sorts and confused. And angry. He glanced toward Reg for assistance. His friend stepped in.

“Do tell…
why
should we believe your story over hers, Bingham?” Reg
asked. “After all, your family placed her in that dreadful place.”

“Dreadful? Only because she must’ve made it so. My father
wouldn’t put his niece anywhere but the finest place — good beds, staff, and food. I should know. I chose the location.”

Gil swiveled back to the window, glaring at his reflection rather than
Gerard. The stupid fop hadn’t even checked
once Helene was sent there? And for what? Lies? If that was the
punishment for lying, half the town should suffer for it.

“You don’t have to believe me, My Lord.”

Bingham chuckled
and stood, holding out his hand for his cloak.
Gil watched the reflection of Riggs handing it over, holding it by thumb and
forefinger as if it stank. Gil appreciated his staff’s loyalty.

“Any member
of the family will tell you the
same, or my mother can vouch for me. She wasn’t particularly
fond of Helene — with her tongue, who would be? But she’ll tell
you the truth.”

“Thank you for the visit, Bingham,” Reg said. “I’m sure Lord
Tremayne will have more questions for you when he’s had time to digest
this.”