Read His Contract Bride Online

Authors: Rose Gordon

His Contract Bride (9 page)

BOOK: His Contract Bride
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Regina finished copying his stack of notes and with nothing else to do, but not wanting to leave, resumed her usual position on the chair by the window and began to sew.

From the corner of her eye, she watched as Edward took his seat and began to jot down words faster than a rabbit being chased by a dog.


Would you like for me to write that down for you?”

Edward paused in his writing then shook his head. “No, no. You sew. You've done enough for me already today.”

A smile took her lips. “Stubborn man.” She set her sewing in the wicker basket beside her chair and stood. “I'll be right back.”

He looked up. “Is there something you require?”


Yes, and I'll be right back after I find it.”

His brows knit in confusion. “Have you run out of things to sew?”

Had she actually been sewing these past three and a half weeks, she certainly would have run out of things by now. She tucked a tendril of loose hair behind her ear. “No. You're out of paper in your desk. I'm going to your study to get some, so I can take notes.”


You don't have to do that, Regina,” he said.


I know. I want to.”


Well, as long as you want to... But, you can just ring a servant for paper.”

She flicked her wrist. “It's of no account. Your study is but a few feet away. It'll be much quicker this way.”

***

Edward could not have found a better Lady Watson had he spent ten years at the proverbial Marriage Mart attending boring balls and ear piercing musicales. And, he shuddered just to think of what paying calls would entail with the rumored horrendous poetry and false flattery. He grimaced. Neither of those things held an ounce of appeal.

He leaned back in his chair. His father, though not done intentionally, had certainly done him a great favor by unknowingly matching him up with such a wonderful young lady. Perhaps one day, he could make such a fortunate match for his own son.

Of course, Father, being so rigid in his belief that Edward only marry as a result of an arranged marriage to avoid the mistake he'd made, had no idea everything would have turned out this well.

A grin took his lips. Yes, everything had turned out perfectly, indeed. Nearly a month into their marriage and Regina didn't seem bored with him, which was a direct contradiction to John's prediction. Instead, she still conversed with him about his plants and would answer silly questions he'd ask her with answers that were so far from possible that he'd have to bite the inside of his cheek so not to embarrass her by laughing.

And as for their nighttime activities...

There was no use in denying it. He enjoyed visiting her bed most of all. Though he managed to hold to his father’s advice and only visit her once a week, he looked forward to those visits all week long. Sneaking peeks at the skin just above the bodice of her gown or the “accidental” brush of his body against hers only served to excite him more. But alas, he did not wish to scare her. Not to mention that momentary feeling of shame that washed over him just as they'd finish and she'd snuggle up against him and say—


Hell and damnation,” Edward shouted as he nearly faltered while shooting to his feet. Regina was about to start digging around in his
other
desk.

 

 

 

 

~Chapter Eight~

 

 

Edward had no idea which was louder: his heavy footfalls on the floor or the pounding of his heart against his chest.


Regina,” he rasped, rounding the door of his study.

Regina didn't answer. But she didn't have to. The faraway, lost look in her eyes was enough. She knew.

Edward cleared his throat. What did one say to a lady who just found out that her love match was actually an arranged marriage?

Silence engulfed them.

Keen observation was one of the most useful tools a scientist had in his laboratory. But just now it seemed as if it was the most useless. His eyes searched her face. But with each slow sweep he did, he learned nothing new. Her brown eyes looked as dry as they always did, if not a bit wider set. Her pink lips were slightly parted as they usually were, exposing the lower half of her front teeth. Her skin, though not what he'd have considered pale in the first place, was still colored the same.

No red edges around her eyes.

No tears streaking down her cheeks.

No bright red splotches on her cheeks.

No frown.

No sobs.

Nothing.

To him, her
not
reacting was worse than if she had reacted.

Years of witnessing his mother's tears may have annoyed him, but it had given him the needed experience of what to say and not to say to a lady experiencing a fit of vapors.

However, Regina's response of indifference was different. Most unnerving, really.

Her eyes looked up from the papers she held and met his gaze. “Why didn't you tell me?” she asked at last, confusing him more with her casual tone. Not a single squeal or crack had erupted in that sentence, nothing but a calm, smooth question that he felt like a dunce forming a response to.


I didn't want to hurt you,” he said at last.

She nodded once. “So you think lying to me was the better way to accomplish that?”

He blinked. Where on earth had she learned her arguing skills? “Yes.”

She nodded once again. “Well, Lord Watson,” she began, in a tone that wasn't hard or sharp, but neither was it warm and excited, “I feel foolish to have waited so long to inform you of this, however, I prefer honesty to heroics.”

Edward swallowed. “Regina, I wasn't trying to be heroic.”


Weren't you?” she challenged. “You just admitted to such not more than thirty seconds ago.”


No, I just said that I was trying to spare your feelings,” he corrected. His mind reeled. In their weeks of marriage, he'd never seen her have as much to say or as strong of an opinion as she did just now.

Regina dropped their betrothal agreement to his desk. “It matters naught why you did it. What's done is done, I suppose.” She stood and smoothed her skirts. “I apologize for whatever it was I said to you that made you feel you needed to lie to me in order to protect my feelings.” Twin patches of pink stained her cheeks, presumably because she was alluding to one of their more intimate moments during the middle of the day. She lifted her chin. “I should inform you that while most gentlemen frequently tell their wives whatever they think will keep them appeased, I am not one of those wives and do not desire such a husband.”


Regina, I didn't mean to hurt you,” he said, taking a step toward her.

She flicked her wrist dismissively and smiled. “It's of no account. I was the one silly enough to believe... Well, never mind all of that.” She slid open the top left drawer of his desk and slipped their blasted betrothal agreement inside. “As you can see, I was unable to locate where you keep your parchment. If you'd be kind enough to bring some with you, I'll be waiting for you in the library.” And with that, she said nothing else, just stepped out from behind his desk and walked right past him, head high, shoulders back, chin up, sweeping the room as if she were a queen—and leaving him more uncertain than when he'd first entered.

***

Regina's fingernails bit into her palms and for the first time since the instant she'd seen her groom at the wedding, she wished her father had denied his request—not that he'd actually issued one in the first place.

Hot tears pricked the backs of her eyes. He
didn't
love her. It was all arranged. And worse yet,
he knew it all along!
Oh, how foolish was she to have ever believed her aunt's words of love and her father's declaration that she, Regina, had caught his attention. Gentlemen didn't fall in love—and if they did, they certainly didn't marry because of it. They married for money, connections, or because it was expected of them. And Edward Banks, Baron Watson, the gentleman she'd measured every other gentleman she'd met against, married for a combination of all three. Then he’d lied about it.

If not for the severe pain in the palms of her hands, she might have swooned right there in the hall at the realization that the very man she'd trusted with her heart was no more trustworthy than her drunkard of a brother.

But it didn't matter. She and Edward were married now, and though she hated knowing she'd been sold from one cold, scheming snake right into the house of another for the sum of some fifteen thousand pounds, she couldn't do a thing about it. Best to do what her father had trained her to do best: push aside her feelings on the matter.

Willing the traitorous tears that were now stinging the backs of her eyes to go away, Regina walked into Edward's library and sat down at Edward's desk to wait for his return.

How odd it felt to sit here now. Only ten short minutes ago, it felt like the most natural place on earth for her to be.

Not now.

This was Edward's desk. Edward's library. Edward's home. And all she was was Edward's wife.

Her stomach flipped and a dizzying feeling came over her.

How cruel fate had been to her, after all.

There must have been a shortage of air in the room because breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. Bracing her hands on the oak desk, she forced her wobbly legs to stand and carry her from the room. She needed to lie down. Dinner. She'd rest until dinner then she'd be able to put this all behind her and face him again.

Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on whom you asked—Lord and Lady Sinclair came by to join them for dinner.


Ooooh, turtle soup,” Lady Sinclair fussed when the footman set her bowl down in front of her. “It's positively my favorite.”

Wasn't everything?
If memory served, just about every food Regina had eaten in Lady Sinclair's company had been her favorite. “Good, I'm glad you like it,” she murmured.


Oh, I do.” Lady Sinclair lifted her spoon to her pursed lips and sucked an unnoticeable amount from her spoon before lowering it back to the bowl. “Mmm,” she said, closing her eyes and licking her lips.

Regina tore her eyes away and dropped them to look at her bowl before she rolled them. Lady Sinclair loved attention and found the oddest ways of gaining it. Not that it mattered so much to Regina at the moment. She'd rather fade into the wallpaper just now anyhow.

From beneath her lowered lashes, she peered down the table at her husband.

Now that she didn't have her family's lies clouding her vision, she saw Edward for who he really was. He wasn't in love with her, he just tolerated her. She hadn't had any friends close by, so out of pity, he'd invited her to spend time with him. The realization turned her stomach.

She shoved her bowl away. Her appetite was gone.


Is something not to your liking?” Edward asked, surprising Regina. How had he noticed her with Lady Sinclair slurping her soup and declaring how heavenly it was?


I'm just trying to save room for my next dish.”

Lady Sinclair's eyebrows flew toward her hairline. “Dear me,” she murmured, patting her chest. She then said something else that Regina didn't bother to listen to. It couldn't have possibly been of any import.

It was all she could do to make it through the remainder of the meal without her stomach revolting.

But she did and said a prayer of thanksgiving when Lord Sinclair announced that they couldn't stay after dinner, as he'd like to return home and rest up for the full day of travel to London tomorrow.

After their guests were gone, she excused herself to go wait in her room. Today was Wednesday, the night Edward normally sought entry to her room.

Ever the observant lady's maid, Georgie helped her into the appropriate nightgown and left Regina alone to wait for her husband. Would he come? She dismissed the thought immediately. Of course he would. He wasn't the one who'd had his heart broken today. He wasn't in love with her, nor had he ever been. For him, nothing had changed today. There was no reason for him not to come.

Just as the clock struck eleven came the soft knock at the adjacent door and with it fear's icy grip settled around Regina's heart. What if now that she knew the truth, he'd cease the charade and would no longer be the gentle lover he'd been in the past; but instead be aggressive and demanding? Her blood turned to ice in an instant.

He'd never seemed the sort who'd purposely hurt her for doing something to his disliking, but now that all was exposed...

She sucked in a sharp breath and opened the connecting door.


Regina.”


Y-yes?”

The room was as dark as it always was when he came to visit and all she could see of him was the outline of his form and the side of his face. Without a word of warning, his hands settled on her arms just above the elbows like they always did when he came to visit her at night.

BOOK: His Contract Bride
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ads

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