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

slightly, and the arms around her tightened even more.
    “You can unhand her, Gil,” the marquis said. “I doubt she’ll run. You won’t run, will you?”
    He smiled solicitously, and her eyes filled with tears.
    “Oh, don’t cry, My Lady. I beg you. I’ve heard of that state, and it was enough to send Gil running from the place.”
    “She’ll do more than cry, Reg. Out of my way.”
    Helene found herself staring at the ground as the man tossed her over his shoulder, ignoring her pitiful struggles.  Where was Bridget? And the servants? They wouldn’t allow anyone to be man-handled like this. Would they?
    She knew the answer before he walked into the parlor and tossed her into a chair, with a motion that nearly sent her over the other side.
    “What do you have to say for yourself, Brandy?”
    “I...I don’t know where it’s kept.”
    His complexion darkened. “Know where what’s kept?”
    “The brandy.”
    He leaned down on the chair arms, entrapping her, and Helene shook as her eyes filled with tears again. His eyes remained hard.  
    “I’m not playing any more games, Madame.” He sneered and narrowed his eyes further.
    “Gil!” Lady Bridget shouted. “Unhand her this instant!”
    “Don’t interrupt, Bridget, or I’ll serve the chit for sup!”
    He didn’t turn his head to answer, as if looking at Helene for her reaction to his threat. And she gave it to him. She paled , her gloved hands going to her cheeks.
    There’s something you should know, Gil,” Bridget said.
    “Get out, Bridget, or I’ll have you thrown out!”
    “The day I back down to you is the day I go back to my husband, Gillian Tremayne! I don’t care what your excuse is for your behavior, but there’s something you should know. She’s changed, blast it!”
    “She only lies better. Don’t you, darling?”
    Helene’s eyes went wide as he leaned in to whisper it, his voice so deep. So masculine. So threatening.
    “What? No answer? What a shame. I look forward to hearing what else you’ll present to me. What say you, love?”
    “She can’t possibly remember anything the way you’re treating her,” Bridget said. “And I hope you’re listening to me, Gillian! She doesn’t remember . She doesn’t!”
    He had eyes as hard as sky blue agates, an aquiline nose, and, even with his dark hair wind-ruffled, he was astonishingly handsome. Her heart fluttered oddly. She had to stifle it. And quickly.
    “Oh…she remembers just fine, don’t you, darling?” Gil asked. “She’ll even tell me all about her childhood memories. And I’ve got all blooming day to listen.”
    “Oh dear.”  She cleared her throat and blinked the moisture in her eyes away. “This isn’t how I wanted to say it.”
    “You hear that, Bridget? She’s going to talk to me now. You can stop acting like a knight defending virtue, for Christ’s sake.”
    “Gil, this is ever so entertaining,” the marquis inserted, “but, since we just traveled all night, and I’m famished, perhaps your lovely aunt would show me to some victuals?”
    “Well, I never!”
    Helene watched Bridget stand to her full height, dwarfing the Marquis of Dunsberry, but he met her look squarely.
    “Surely you have, Madame. And often. I suppose it wouldn’t be amiss if I talk you out of some coffee? An egg or two wouldn’t go unappreciated, either. Let’s allow the Lord and Lady Tremayne to get reacquainted, shall we? Charmed.”
    He bent his head toward Helene and adroitly steered Bridget away.
    “Well, Brandy love?”
    Helene swallowed, watching his blue eyes soften a bit. She couldn’t resist the smile he gave her, and she returned it tremulously.
    “I don’t drink it,” she whispered.
    “Goddamn it, don’t play me for a fool! I’ve had enough of that state to last me a lifetime. If I ever get my hands on Helen, I swear I’ll strangle her.”
    “Helen? You speak in riddles, Sir, and then won’t give me the chance to answer. What does my cousin have to do with