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

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