His Contract Bride (16 page)

Her face turned a pale pink. “I meant that as a jest, because—”

He placed a finger to her lips. “I know what you meant;
and
I found the humor in it.” He dropped his hand to his side. “Shall we?”

Daniel Bray, the owner of the museum, had somehow acquired just under one hundred wax sculptures, and Edward spent as much time as he could showing each of them to Regina before taking her into his favorite room.

“
I must warn you,” he said, his face heating a bit. “Other than your bedchamber, this has to be my favorite room in London.” He couldn't help the grin that divided his face when Regina's cheeks flushed crimson.

“
Edward,” she gasped.

“
Sorry, m'dear, I didn't mean to scandalize you—” he shrugged— “but it's the truth.”

“
That may be, but you needn't announce it.”

He twisted his lips and made his eyes bulge; making a face that had always made his younger brothers laugh, then made a big show of looking in both directions over his shoulders then behind her. “I don't see anyone who heard the announcement other than the one person I wanted to hear it.”

She lowered her lashes and her hands clasped together in front of her waist. “I think I understand now.”

Ignoring the way she'd suddenly clammed up again, he gestured to the room. “Shall I show you what a grown man would like to see in a nursery were he sent away from dinner and told to spend the rest of the evening there?”

“
Dare I hope everything in this room is clothed?”

Edward gasped and smacked a hand on either side of his face. “Regina Elinor Banks! I do believe I finally understand the meaning of the verb scandalized.”

She waved her hand through the air—almost like she meant to swat at his shoulder but stopped herself. “Do be serious. That is nowhere near as scandalous as what you said a moment ago. Besides—” she pointed a slender, pink-tipped finger at him and wagged it— “considering the sculptures you just exposed me to, my statement wasn't too far-fetched.”

Edward took hold of her extended hand and wrapped his larger one around it. “I promise there is nothing offensive in this room.” Holding her hand, he led her into the room. “See, it's like a giant toy room. This is the part of the museum where you're allowed to touch whatever you wish.” He picked up a wooden carving that had a ball trapped inside of a rectangular box which was made up of only twelve wooden strips along the corners and handed it to her.

Regina turned it over in her hand, frowning. “How did they get the ball inside? It's too big to fall out the side, yet there are no hinges or breaks in the wood where it pulls apart.”

“
It was originally all one piece of wood. The man who made this carved the rough outline of the box first and then carved the ball within, making sure not to take too much off of either the ball or the sides so the ball wouldn't fall out.” He took it from her and set it back on the shelf, then picked up a heavy wooden plank that had six rows of small colored dots along the top, followed by a strip of green, then a large swath of brown. Along the left were two horses: one grey and one white. Holding firmly onto the side closest to him, he moved it closer to Regina.

“
How intricate,” she marveled, tracing the details of the horses with the tip of her finger. She frowned. “Are these horses attached to the wood with wire?”

Instead of telling her, he hooked his fingers into the wire circles on the underside of the wood, and pulled.

“
How extraordinary,” she exclaimed as the horses “raced” across the plank.

The smile on her face knocked the wind right out of Edward's lungs. Of course he'd seen her smile before, but never beam. Not the way she was doing now. His chest constricted. Leave it to John and his eerie perceptiveness to see what Edward couldn't.

“
Do they always move like that?”

“
No.” Edward used his left hand and moved them back to the start. “It's meant to be a horse race. That's what all these dots are—they're the spectators.” He flipped the box over. “See, there are two different wires, one for each horse. Depending on which horse you want to win, you pull that string a little faster.” He turned the automaton back over and tugged the wires again, this time, pulling the top one just a little faster than the bottom.

“
Do all of these do the same thing?”

Edward put the racing horses down. “In a matter of speaking, yes. But they're all different, as well.” He picked one up. “These are two fishermen having a competition.” He quirked a brow. “Care to place a wager on which one reels in his catch first?”

She laughed. “No. I don't place bets when I know who controls the outcome.”

“
Wits and beauty, a perfect combination.” He set the fishermen down and sifted through a few vulgar ones of cock fights and a man being hanged until he found what he was looking for. “This one doesn't have strings to pull, but dials to turn.” He took her hand again and led her to a little bench in the corner. After she'd made herself comfortable, he sat next to her and positioned the automaton so half was on each of their laps.

“
What are they doing?”

“
They're about to fence.” He ran his fingers along the right side of the box. “Slide your hand along the wooden frame until you feel the ridges, then stop.”

“
All right,” she said, her brow puckering.

“
Very good. Now, when I tell you to, move your finger along those grooves and be sure to press hard or it won't work.” He found his dial. “Are you ready?”

“
I think so.”

“
Go!”

At the same time, both of them spun their dials, and the men on the front of the plank moved their swords, either forward or back.

“
What fun,” she exclaimed, spinning her dial with more vigor than he'd imagined she'd have.

“
Be careful,” Edward said with an overdone frown. “You're about to beat me.”

That made her laugh all the harder.

He threw both of his hands into the air. “You win! You win! Have mercy on me.”

Regina stopped. “Aha, the victor.”

Edward had the strangest urge to kiss her at that moment. The thought sobered him. She'd never allow him such a liberty outside of the bedchamber. “Congratulations, Regina,” he said. “You have managed to unman your husband. Your friends shall be proud indeed.”
Particularly Lady Sinclair.

“
I didn't unman you,” she corrected. “I bested you.”

“
Oh, thank you for the clarification.”

“
You're welcome.”

He shook his head at her sarcastic tone and set the automaton down beside himself. Who'd have ever known that the quiet woman who spoke only when spoken to had this fire inside her?

“
Oh, look,” she said, reaching across him in a way that pushed her soft breast into his lap, dangerously close to something that wouldn't be soft much longer if she didn't sit back up. “Here's another game.”

“
Let me see.” He coughed. “Pardon me.” Ignoring the heat crawling up his face, he fiddled with the automaton she'd picked up while she straightened into proper sitting position.

“
What are these fellows playing?”

“
Tennis,” he murmured.

“
Tennis?”

“
Have you never heard of it?”

“
No.”

“
Don't worry, not too many care about it these days,” he said while he absentmindedly played with the dials. “It used to be a very popular game—the game of kings, in fact. But its popularity has been in rapid decline in recent years.”

“
That must be why I haven't heard of it,” she said airily.

What the devil? The dials turned without problem, but there was no movement. “I think this one might be broken.”

“
Oh.”

Was he imagining things or was she truly disappointed? He set the automaton down. “What do you say if I take you to see a real tennis match on Thursday?”

“
But didn't you mention at breakfast that you needed to get back to Watson Estate and check on your flowers.”

“
Hang the flowers,” he burst out, as stunned as she was at his words. He exhaled. “Do you wish to go with me to see a tennis match in real life or will I be going alone?”

“
I'd love to accompany you.”

Thank heavens, because he might do himself in if he were made to go to one of those dratted things alone. “Excellent, then.”

~Chapter Sixteen~

The tennis match was an awful, dreadful, horrid, affair. Never in her life had Regina been so miserable. Not that Edward seemed any more enthralled with the game.

“
We can leave,” she whispered, hoping he'd stop playing the role of a gentleman and agree.

“
No, no,” he argued. Though his voice said no, those eyes of his had sparked with something—likely excitement—at her suggestion. “It won't last much longer, I promise.”

It had better not.
Somewhere out there was a man with only minutes left to his life. He'd probably love to trade places with Regina so those remaining moments could seem like an eternity.

“
Naughty thought?”

Regina snapped her head around to face her chuckling husband. “Absolutely not.”

His laughter only continued. “I've been watching you, Regina. I know when that little smile takes your lips that you're up to mischief.”

Regina's hand instinctively flew to her lips. She sighed. “Unlike you, I don't put voice to all of my naughty thoughts.” Not that she'd ever admit that she enjoyed his naughty slips.

He lifted his brows. “Oh, so it was naughty?”

“
Not in the way you're thinking, no,” she stammered. Gracious. What was it about him that made her act like a ninny at times?

“
That's too bad,” he said with a frown. “I'd rather enjoy hearing your naughty thoughts.”

“
I shan't give you the honor,” she teased, inclining her chin.

He gave an exaggerated half-sigh, half-groan. “Then I suppose I shall have to torture you until you do.”

“
My, my, have you sunk so low?”

“
A man sometimes has to resort to levels of desperation he never thought possible in order to get what he wants,” he said.

She stared at him. There was no denying his sentence was spoken with the intention of being cryptic. But what his code meant, she may never know. She turned her attention back to where two gentlemen were lobbing a ball to each other across a courtyard using wooden rackets. She wasn't what most would consider a scientist, by any means, but even she understood cause and effect; if this was considered an excellent match, she had a very good idea why the sport had a declining interest.

Mercifully, the match ended before Regina died of tedium.

“
Our turn,” Edward announced, grinning like a simpleton.

“
Pardon me?”

He gestured to the courtyard. “I reserved the court so we could play.”

“
Why would you do such a thing?”

He laughed at her question. “You seemed disappointed when we couldn't 'play' the other day, so I thought you might like to play a real game.”

Was he addled? “I think I'd rather be a spectator.”

“
Nonsense.” He stood and walked to where two wooden rackets were leaning against a splintered chair. “Come along, Lady Watson. You longed to play, and now you shall.”

Regina thought to protest since she was wearing a gown, but dismissed the thought immediately. Never before had she let a dress hinder her from participating in a game if she truly wanted to play. Not when she'd chased that urchin Jimmy Somers off her aunt's land for pulling her hair, nor when she ran from Toby and Prichard to avoid getting a mud pie thrown at her. She walked to the court and took one of the rackets. “If I injure you with a ball, it is not my fault.”

“
Are you intending to lob one at my head?” he asked, frowning.

“
No.” She winked. “Not intentionally.”

“
Minx.” He picked up the ball and squeezed it. “I hate to dash your dreams of beating me into submission by hitting me with this ball, but it's made of felt wrapped around wool.”

She rolled her eyes. Only her husband would suggest something so ridiculous. “Do you plan to serve sometime today?”

“
Momentarily, yes.” He tossed the ball into the air and swung.

The ball flew toward Regina. Too scared to wince, flinch, jump, recoil or move, she stared in awe as the ball flew closer to her and landed just inches from her toe.