His Contract Bride (7 page)

“
Do you have any plans for the day?” he forced himself to ask.

Regina lowered her cup of coffee, her eyes wide. “I hadn't considered it.”

“
You're welcome to join me in the conservatory,” he said before he could think better of it. He didn't need her in there poking around. She might unearth something other than some flowers: his secret.

“
I'd love to.”

He forced a smile. Wonderful. Now he'd have to be careful what he said. “You don't have to join me...”

She waved him off. “Nonsense. I've always wanted to go into a conservatory. It's an indoor garden, is it not?”

“
As a matter of speaking, it is.” He grinned. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad, after all. He could just show her all the flowers; then when she was done fawning over them, she could come back inside.

Edward couldn't deny the small measure of pride he had leading Regina to his conservatory where he'd nurtured dozens of different species of plants, mostly foreign. He was known throughout England for having the most extensive plant collection in a single conservatory.

He offered her his arm and guided her around, stopping at each bush, tree and plant.

“
It's all so beautiful,” Regina said, removing her hand from his arm so she could bend closer to his violets.

Edward shoved his hands in his pockets. “Thank you.” He let her examine a few of the stems. “Are you ready to go back to the house?”

She turned those soft brown eyes on him. “No. I thought I'd stay out here with you, if that's all right.”

He nodded. “Very well. There's a bench just over there.” He pointed to a crude stone bench off to the side and out of the way.

“
All right.” She straightened and walked to the bench.

Was it just him or did her smile dim? He shrugged off the thought along with his coat. He set his coat, waistcoat and cravat on the bench next to her, rolled up his sleeves, and knelt down next to the row of tulips he needed to replant. He grabbed the nearby spade and dug it into the soil.

Behind him, Regina remained silent—except every few seconds the bottom of her slipper would make a “shhh” sound against the dirt as she mindlessly kicked her foot. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. She was staring at him. Why? Did she really want to be out here with him? Surely not. “Regina, if you'd like to go inside, you can,” he offered again.

Her foot stopped mid-scrape. “Do you wish to be alone?”

Edward lowered the tulip bulb in his hand to the ground. “No. I just don't want you to be bored.”

“
I'm not,” she said, resuming her kicking.

He shook his head. If it were him sitting on that bench watching the back of someone, he'd pull his own hair out for entertainment. He sighed. “Would you like to help?”

Her foot stopped mid-scrape again. “Will I be in the way?”

Yes.
“No.” He waved his hand. “Come on, then.”

She was at his side faster than he could blink. She bent to kneel beside him.

“
Wait.” He flushed. He hadn't meant to bark at her. Dropping his spade, he stood then walked to where a dirty smock hung from a wooden peg by the door. “Wear this so you don't get your dress filthy.”

Regina took it from him and turned it this way, then that.

“
Here, let me help you.”

Relief softened her features as she handed him the smock. “Forgive me. I've never worn one before and I don't know—”

“
It's of no account,” he cut in to spare her pride. He held the smock in front of her so she could slide both arms into the arm holes then helped pull it snugly against her body. “Turn.” The back had two sets of ties, one by the neck and one about the waist. He tied the one around her waist first. “Your stays are so large they make it nearly impossible for both sides of the string to touch.”

Regina's neck turned pink. “Oh, do I need to remove them?”

Only if you remove everything else you're wearing while you're at it.
He swore under his breath. He had no business thinking such thoughts about her. She was his wife, for pity's sake. She deserved his respect, not him undressing her in his mind. “No, no. I think I have it.” He finished tying a simple knot with the lower strings then picked up the two ends that would tie around her neck. Focusing his attention on the pear tree just past Regina's left shoulder, he quickly tied the second knot. “You're ready,” he said, fisting his hands to resist the urge to touch her.

She peeled off her gloves and tossed them on the bench next to his discarded clothes then bent next to where he'd been. “Do you plan to join me, or now that I'm properly attired, will I be digging in the flowerbeds alone?”

“
I'm coming.” He resumed his earlier position at her side, noting that she was holding the spade wrong. “Here, like this,” he murmured, repositioning her hands. He stilled momentarily. Her hands were so small with skin softer than anything he'd ever felt before.

“
Better?”

“
Yes.” He coughed to cover up the roughness in his voice then scowled. This was exactly what he didn't need. Regina had this odd tendency to reduce him to a bumbling green lad. Before luncheon he was sure to devastate her with the truth of her marriage. It was nearly guaranteed.

But somehow, he didn't.

By some miracle, he'd been able to keep his mouth shut about that—but only by grunting responses to any question she asked him that wasn’t about flowers or turtles.

He was such a cad.

“
Let me help you get that off,” he said, tossing his spade to the ground and knocking the excess dirt off his hands by brushing them across his breeches.

Regina turned her back toward him, so he could quickly undo her ties. “Thank you.”

“
You're welcome.” He pulled the smock off of her and met her eyes. “Do you have plans for after luncheon?”

***

Regina's heart nearly beat right out of her chest. Was he inviting her to spend more time with him? While replanting flowers wasn't what she'd typically term as exciting, doing it alongside Edward had made it seem that way. Had he enjoyed her company as much as she'd enjoyed his?

She willed her heart to settle down and her voice to stay even. “I have no plans.”

“
Would you care to join me?”

“
Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Excuse me. Yes.”

The left corner of his mouth tipped up in a lopsided smile—she ignored him of course.

“
I like to spend my afternoons in the library,” he said, opening the door to the library for her after they finished luncheon together. “I find the lighting better for my eyes.”

She shook her head. All morning he'd made odd statements at various times. Just an oddity about him, she supposed. “Do you have bad eyes?” she ventured, running her fingers over the leather spines of countless tomes about plants, animals, mathematical formulas and many other topics that Edward found of interest lined up along the bookcase closest to her.

His lips twisted into the worst attempt at a scowl she'd ever seen. “They're not bad, necessarily, but I do see better with a pair of spectacles.”

“
And why is it you don't wear your spectacles all the time?”

He scowled for real. “Because they're terribly uncomfortable.” He picked up a pair of the most hideous spectacles she'd ever seen: thick pewter rims that formed an unusual, five-sided shape around turquoise lenses. “Besides, I'd hate to have all the ladies fall at my feet as I walk down the street wearing these.”

Regina sputtered with laughter. “Those are atrocious.”

Edward slipped them on. “You don't think I'm handsome?”

“
Well,
you're
handsome, but that's not due to the spectacles.” She blushed as soon as the words were out of her mouth. “Forgive me,” she murmured, dropping her gaze.

Her husband, the perfect gentleman that he was, smiled at her as if she hadn't just embarrassed herself and removed his hideous spectacles. “I only need them when I read for long periods in a dimly lit room.”

That explained why he liked to do his reading in the afternoon when the light was better. “What shall I do?”

Edward looked around the room then his eyes lit. “You could read.” He picked up two books from his desk. “These just arrived. I haven't even read them yet.” He flipped the first one open, thumbed through the pages, and then snapped it shut with a resounding thud. “I'm sure this fascinates you as much as embroidery fascinates me.” He set the book back down and glanced around the room, presumably straining to think of something for her to do.

“
I can work on my sewing,” she offered.

He nodded enthusiastically. “Brilliant.” He strode to the red velvet bell pull by the door and gave it hearty tug. He flashed her a winning smile while he waited for Johnson to arrive.

A tall, thin man with a slight bald spot on the top of his head entered the room. “My lord?”

“
Fetch Lady Watson the most comfortable chair in the house.”

“
And her sewing basket,” Regina added when it appeared Edward had forgotten.

“
Yes, that, too,” Edward agreed.

It was only a few minutes before two large footmen came in carrying either side of a red, plush chaise lounge that had a rolling back and curved armrest along the right side. Behind them was Georgie, carrying a wicker basket full of various items in need of mending.

“
Excellent,” Edward said, nodding his approval. He gestured to a spot next to the largest window in the room. “Put it here, so Lady Watson can be near the sunshine.”

“
Thank you,” Regina said, taking her seat. She pulled a beautiful unfinished pillow slip from the basket at her side.

The servants left, and Edward settled in behind his desk. He flipped open one of his new books and began reading.

The large clock in the room ticked in time with Regina's stitches.

“
Say? Do you think if I were to plant my yellow tulips and white roses in the same planter box, they might produce yellow roses?”

Regina nearly poked herself with the point of her needle. He was asking
her
opinion. She licked her lips and tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. “That sounds logical to me. The new roses would take on the yellow coloring from the tulips.” She shifted in her chair. “Or, you might end up with white tulips, I suppose.”

He twisted his lips in contemplation and nodded before turning back to his book.

Beneath her lashes, Regina studied him. He was so different from the gentlemen she'd met during her Season. The skin on his face was darker than most, presumably from his hours spent in the sun. He didn't wear gloves, even when inside; and yesterday was the only time she'd seen him wear a wig. Neither when he'd come to see her in April nor today did he wear one. It was scandalous is what it was. No other gentleman she knew dared not wear one. But she didn't mind. She rather enjoyed seeing his dark blond locks.

The object of her thoughts reached for a quill and paper then bent his head as his hand scratched out words so fast she thought he might break the nib from his quill.

“
Would you like to dictate that to me?”

Edward's head shot up, a thick lock of his hair falling into his eyes. “Pardon?”

Regina put her sewing down. “If you'd like, you can tell me your thoughts, and I can jot them down for you.”

He blinked. “No. I couldn't possibly ask you to do that.”

“
You're not. I'm offering.” She flashed him a smile and walked over to where he was still sitting behind his desk. “I'll have to sit there.”

He nodded slowly then stood. “Regina, you don't have to do this.”

“
I know.” She sat down in his recently vacated seat and looked at the indecipherable code he considered writing. “Perhaps I'll rewrite this particular page for you after we finish.”

He sent her another lopsided grin. “Don't spoil me now. I certainly don't deserve it.”

Was it her imagination or had his last sentence sounded strained? She pushed away the thought. He likely didn't want to be seen as taking advantage of her. She inked her pen. “All right, my lord, tell me all about the scientific discovery you are on the brink of making, so I may pen your findings and take the credit.”

~Chapter Six~

Edward was becoming quite a good liar.

Not that that was a good thing, mind you.

He hated lying to Regina, but he couldn't force himself to tell her the truth now even if the barrel of a gun was butted up against his head. He'd become so accustomed to having her around and enjoyed her company far too much to hurt her like that.

But even if he was becoming rather skilled at keeping his secret and guiding conversations so the words love and match were never spoken in his presence, he needed a reprieve. Dodging words of love and admiration was as difficult as he imagined dodging bullets would be.