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

as she saw the W scar.
    “I only remark on this scratch, ‘cause I take it you’re the ladybird he’s seein’, but cor, I don’t think you’ll last. He’ll kill ye with his lusts, he will.”
    She winked and twirled atop a bolt of taffeta. “Then again, ye might just sit a bit on ‘im. I’m sure that would bring ‘im around, if ye leave ‘im a bit o’ air from between yer thighs.”
    Brandy halted as the woman roared with laughter. Then, she put her hands to her ears in faked shock.
    “Lord-a-mighty! I think you’ll scare ’im more with that yell o’ yers. But tell me, i ffen I had somewhat with which to bargain, would ye be a-willin’ to try it? I’m not certain sure, but I’d try to gather an audience, too, and we could make a couple quid. What do ye say, Madame?”
    “I say you’re absolutely perfect for him.”
    Brandy stumbled off the bolt of cloth and stared at the woman before clasping both hands to her breast.
    “Cor! Ye wound me to the quick, Lady. Take a knife an’ hack out a piece of me black bosom, but don’t threaten me with the sight of him. He’s enough to make me swoon, he is.”
    “Oh. Yes. I gathered that by the way you speak of him. Dream man, indeed.”
    “His looks are enough to’ make the ugliest doxy run fer cover, Mistress. Why, I nearly lost me sup when I first beheld his face.”
    “Of course you did, dear. And I don’t blame you for doing it so poorly, either. Those blue eyes of his are enough to make any woman swoon.”
    “It weren’t his eyes, Mistress. I was weak, I was.”
    “And why wouldn’t you be? Any woman would get that way from being in his arms… and such arms. Wouldn’t you agree? Why, I wager he could even lift a maid as healthy as I am.”
    “The devil you say! Health it’s called? Why, Mistress, ye give the cows a bad name.”
    “Oh, that’s a worrisome thing for you to say, dearie. I’ve spent a fortune trying to lose some of this health.”
    “Ye got it wrong, Mistress, an’ I’ll have to wash me hands of ye, I will. I can see yer beyond any help poor, little Brandy can give ye.”
    She stood, shaking her head sadly at the mountainous woman standing by the door, nearly giggling at the way her feathers bobbed onto her nose.
    “Why would you say that? Here I’ve stood, working these poor legs holding me up, and you tell me it’s for naught?”
    “Now, don’t ye go an’ take offense at Brandy’s tongue, Mistress. I swear I’d cut it out myself iffen ye do, but it’s as plain as the nose on yer face, it is…although, with all the frippery ye wear, it’s not surprisin’ yer nose can’t tell.”
    “Riddles again? Lord, you’re quick. I’ve half a mind to sell tickets to your showing, I am.”
    “Exactly! Why, half a mind is what ye need, Mistress. Everyone knows the quickest way to a delightful stick figure like Brandy’s is to have a nice, comfy stay at the sanatorium. They treat ye ever so nice there. And don’ ye fret none. They’ll be sure to help ye .”
    “Do you think they’d take me, though? Truly? I’ve way too much gold and more than enough influence. That makes me a poor candidate for the guest list, wouldn’t you say?”
    “They’re sure to overlook it, iffen ye grease enough palms. I’ll even put in a good word fer ye, I will.”
    “You’ve almost talked me into it, dearie. But tell me. Do you think I’ll be lucky enough - assuming they accept me - to find my own dream man, too?”
    “Oh, go on wit’ ye! Teasin’ Brandy wit’ yer words. I already tol’ ye he makes me eyes sore with just the looking.”
    “Looking isn’t what you’re supposed to do with a man like that, girl. Why, a soul would think you’re daft the way you talk.”
    “The way I talk? The paddy wagon should’ve snatched you up long ago.”
    She answered in Bridget’s voice and waited for her reply. And then Lord Tremayne spoiled everything by applauding from the doorway.
    ‘Why, if it isn’t the grand Gilly himself, come