His Contract Bride (Banks Brothers Brides 1)

by Rose Gordon

  ***

  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.

  But this time, it felt different when his hands touched her.

  Before, they'd felt warm and loving, and now they just felt hard and cold, devoid of any real sense of love and affection―similar to the way her father tried to be affectionate when circumstances dictated.

  She jerked at the thought. “Forgive me,” she murmured as his fingers tightened a fraction on her upper arm, helping her keep her balance. The firmness of his grasp was different, too. He'd never held her so tight. Was he angry with her for jerking at his touch? Her lower lip quivered on its own accord and she dug her teeth into its tender flesh to hold it steady.

  “Regina,” Edward whispered, leaning his head closer. His lips landed awkwardly against hers. He pulled back. “Is something the matter?”

  “N-no.” She forced her teeth to relinquish her lip and cleared her throat. “No. Perhaps we should...” She took a hard swallow. “The bed,” she whispered.

  “All right.”

  Regina twisted out of his grasp and padded across the room to her bed. There was a sense of safety, albeit a small one, in being in her bed where she could dig her fingers into the sheets and hold on until it was over, as her aunt had instructed. For now that she was about to share intimacies with a man who didn't love her, her aunt's advice just might be helpful.

  Nervous, she tripped slightly when her foot got caught in the length of that billowing nightgown she was now thankful for and clumsily climbed into her bed, tangling the fabric around her feet.

  Instinctively, she kicked her leg to work out the heavy tangle and set herself free.

  “Are you all right?” Edward asked.

  She stilled. Did he sense her discomfort? She nearly sighed. Only a fool wouldn't be able to see how overwrought she was. “I'm all right,” she lied. She licked her lips and waited for him.

  Slowly, he approached the bed and shed his dressing gown. Though it was dark with only the low glow of the moon offering any amount of light, Regina lowered her lashes, unable to force herself to look at him. During his previous visits, she'd let all of her shame vanish and would watch him remove his robe, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. But not now. Now it seemed inappropriate somehow. Indecent.

  The mattress dipped under his weight as he joined her. His hand found her hip and she jumped, startled.

  “Forgive me
,” she whispered.

  He moved his hand from her hip to the side of her stomach then let it drift down to her side again. “There's nothing to forgive,” he murmured against her ear.

  Regina fisted her hands into the counterpane. She could do this. All the other ladies in England did this and so could she. It was Edward. She'd shared intimacies with him many times before; it was no different this time.

  But, yes, it was. This time there was no illusion of deceit that he loved her. Her hands clenched tighter. This time his touch wasn't the same. He was touching her in all the same places and with the same movements, but for some reason, they didn't excite her body as they had in the past. Instead, they felt practiced as if everything he'd done all along had been insincere. And perhaps everything had been, to keep up the pretense that he had married her for love.

  Her heart slammed in her chest and her body jerked on its own accord. Whether because of her unnerving thoughts or Edward's unnerving touch, she'd never know.

  “Regina,” he said, brushing his lips across her cheek.

  Only yesterday, the gesture would have melted her on the spot, but not tonight. Instead of relaxing against him or moving her face to grant him better access to her cheek, she squeezed her eyes shut and said a silent prayer that he'd be done soon.

  Tears filled her eyes. Everything her aunt said had come true. As much as she'd never believed herself capable of finding Edward's touch repulsive, that is exactly what it was. And because of what? Because he didn't love her. That wasn't anything new. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter to hold in the tears. Nobody in her life had ever loved her. Not her father, nor her brother, and now not even her husband.

  Edward's lips moved dangerously close to hers, eliciting an uncontrollable tremble.

  Immediately, Edward's hand stilled and his face pulled away from hers. “Is something the matter?”

  “No.”

  At her hip, one of his fingers idly tapped. “Have I done something you dislike?”

  “No.” It wasn't really a lie. It wasn't necessarily his kisses and caresses that she hadn't liked, but the fact that he'd lied to her. And she didn't even dislike that. She loathed it. “Pray continue.”

  His fingers stopped their tapping and he heaved a deep sigh. Dropping his head into the pillow, he pulled Regina against his warm body.

  What was he doing? Sure, he'd held her many times before—but only after they'd finished being intimate, never before.

  She peeked at his face through her eyelashes. His eyes were shut. Did he intend to fall asleep without...without...?

  The following minutes stretched into what felt like hours, and finally, deep breathing and soft snoring filled the air.

  ~Chapter Nine~

  Regina took a deep breath as she neared the breakfast room. There was no reason not to join Edward for breakfast. He might have only invited her to join him during his daytime activities to assuage his guilt for lying to her in the past, but surely he hadn't shared breakfast with her for the same reason.

  “Good morning, Edward,” she said, gliding into the breakfast room.

  He stood, startled, almost as if he hadn't expected her to come downstairs for breakfast. Perhaps she was unwanted at breakfast, too. She turned to leave.

  “Stay,” he encouraged, his voice uneven. He cleared his throat and gestured to the sidebar. “I didn't mean to be so brusque, I was woolgathering when you entered and you caught me unawares.”

  She could only imagine what he'd been pondering. Likely it had to do with one of his various ongoing experiments. She pursed her lips and allowed him to fill her plate then bring it to the table for her.

  “Regina, I wanted to speak to you—”

  “Is it about your plants or one of the equations you’ve been working on?” she asked, poking her coddled eggs.

  He took a seat in the chair on the opposite side of the table from her. “No.”

  “Then, I don't wish to hear it.”

  He sighed. “Can I just explain?”

  “I'm capable of reading, Edward. I don't think there is anything to explain.” With all the feelings swirling inside of her, it was amazing she got the sentence out so smoothly.

  He frowned at her. “I've never doubted your ability to read.”

  “That's good, considering that you allow me to take notes for you,” she quipped.

  Edward groaned. “Yesterday you informed me that you prefer honesty to heroics, and though I haven't been the best example of this so far, I, too, prefer honesty to heroics.”

  She knit her eyes together. “Pardon?”

  Edward ran a hand through his hair. “Regina, if you're angry with me because I omitted the truth to spare your feelings, I'd rather you tell me now. There is no need to pretend otherwise.”

  Now it was Regina's turn to scrutinize his face. She shook her head. “I'm not angry.”

  His face darkened. “Regina, I will ask you one more time. That's it. This is your last chance. Are you angry with me?”

  Her eyes locked with his. “No.” She wasn't angry. She didn't have the ability to be angry. There wasn't a single thing he could do to remove the sting of betrayal or the overwhelming mortification she'd felt yesterday. “I'm not angry,” she said for one final time.

  He didn't look completely convinced, but she didn't care. “Very well.” He picked up his fork and began eating, never once breaking eye contact with her.

  She'd played this game with Toby for years. She had no doubt she could outlast him and held his gaze.

  Bite after bite she held his gaze. She knew her place, of course. Ladies never challenged their husbands; but why not accept the challenge he'd issued, she reasoned.

  By the time the meal was done, she was convinced she could describe his eyes in exact detail if asked to. Every shade, fleck and vein, she knew them all.

  “You win,” he said at last, pushing his plate away.

  “And what is my prize?” She pressed her lips together—a bit too late it would seem. The proper lady her father had trained her to be would not be so forward. “Forgive me.”

  “No, no,” he said, the corner of his mouth tipping up just a little. “I do have a prize. How would you like to take a trip to London?”

  How about not? “London?” She hated London. Hated the gossip. Hated participating in the Season. Hated being forced to conform to the norms of a society she'd never fully be a part of. Just simply hated London.

  He nodded. A shadow crossed his face. “It would seem John has found himself in trouble at Eton, and they're sending him home for the duration of the academic year.”

  “Oh.” She'd only met John once—at their wedding— but had never thought a relative of Edward's could possibly get himself into trouble. He might have a mischievous streak reflected in his menu selection, but he didn't seem a rotten sort.

  Edward picked up the crumpled paper next to him and frowned. “Sweeny sent him to my London home, likely because John told him that's where I'd be. I need to go back to London earlier than I'd planned, so I can make sure he attends his studies. Would you like to come?”

  Regina bit her lip. Was he asking her because he sincerely wanted her company or because he felt he needed to offer?

  As if he read her mind, he said, “I know I promised you a month in the country. But at the end of the week, we'd be going to London anyway. Perhaps you can spend those extra days getting some new gowns made up for all the invitations we'll have to accept this Season.”

  It wasn't much of an offer, but it was an offer all the same. One she was in no position to refuse. She and Edward would be married until they put one of them in the ground. Wounded pride would have to be pushed aside if they were to remain civil to each other. “I'd be happy to accompany you.”

  “Excellent. I'd like to be there as soon as possible. Would you have a problem if we left as soon
as the servants ready the carriage?”

  “No.” She'd be glad to leave today. It'd give her something to do since now she knew better than to believe she'd be welcome to spend the day “helping” Edward.

  ***

  With periodic stops to water the horses and take meals, the sun was just beginning to set when they arrived at Watson Townhouse.

  “Allow me to introduce you to the servants here at Watson Townhouse,” Edward said as he helped Regina descend the carriage.

  “Of course.”

  Calvert, ever the dutiful butler, had all the servants lined up ready to meet their new mistress.

  “I'd like you all to meet the new Lady Watson.”

  The row of servants all murmured their greeting.

  “Regina,” Edward said, gesturing to the impeccably dressed man at the front of the line. “This fellow here is Calvert. He wears only black. Sings when he thinks nobody's listening. Has bruised my backside more times than I can count for sliding down the formal banister, and has thrice refused the pension I've offered him.”

  “It's nice to meet you, Calvert,” Regina said with the first hint of a smile he'd seen on her lips all day. Good. He'd hoped she'd find at least a trace of humor in his description of the aging butler.

  One by one, Edward went down the row of servants, introducing her to each one of them.

  “To your tasks,” Edward instructed as he made his last introduction.

  “Would you like me to give Lady Watson a tour of the townhouse?” Mrs. Rourke, the housekeeper, asked, her keys rattling on the large hoop she wore around her wrist.

  Edward swung his gaze to Regina. “Actually, no. I think I should like to show her about.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Mrs. Rourke said.

  Edward offered her his arm and forced a smile. “You don't mind taking a tour do you?”

  “No, not at all.”

  He started down the hall. Which room to show her first? To the left was his library. She wouldn't be interested in anything in there. It'd bore her to tears. Next, his study. He scowled. Even he hated going into that room. Ah, the drawing room. “This is the drawing room,” he murmured, opening the door.