by Rose Gordon
“It's because she's a proper lady,” Regina explained. “She might have a tart tongue and a fashion sense that leans toward eccentric, but she still knows her duty.” She hated the way that sounded, but it was true. Lady Sinclair might be unpleasant to be around in a private setting, but the respect she garnered among the ton by coming from a good family made her a very desirable catch.
“Either way, I want a tame, mild wife who won't embarrass me.”
“For a bo—” cough, cough, “young man of fourteen, you seem to have given this a lot of thought.”
He shrugged then pursed his lips. “I have. My mother and father—” He waved his hand through the air. “Never mind that. That's not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Perhaps not, but now she found herself vastly curious about his mother and father and how their marriage had made him decide he wanted to marry someone who'd fade into the shadows. She tucked a fallen tendril of hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. “And what did you wish to say?”
He shifted in his seat. “It's about Edward.”
“Oh?”
“He doesn't do it on purpose.”
“What's that?”
“Send you into a state of tedium,” John said as casual as you like.
Regina sputtered with laughter. Edward occasionally made remarks that made her laugh, but not like his brother was doing. Perhaps it was because John didn't know he was doing it. “He doesn't.”
John's eyes widened. “Please, do not tell me you have fallen into his trap and enjoy his endless science prattle.”
“It's not so bad,” she said in her defense.
“Not so bad?” he repeated in a low tone. When he spoke again, his voice was devoid of the light humor he'd spoken with earlier. “You should know that Edward doesn't care what others think of him. Other than his unmatched ability to bore a soul senseless, he has the thickest skin of anyone I've ever met. If he does something, and you don't like it, he just shrugs and continues on.” He grinned again. “That's why I like to tease him so much. But it's also why I respect him so much. Edward has taken a lot of criticism for his unusual pursuits and strange fascination with science. But never once did he care about someone else's opinions enough to give up what he loved.”
He cocked his head to the side. “I guess that's another thing about him that I admire. He has never been one to easily let go of something he loves.”
Regina's heart cracked. What was he holding onto that kept him from loving her? She shoved away the traitorous thought that had no business taking root in her mind. She might have loved him since the moment they'd met, but hoping he'd feel the same for her was yet another of her foolish dreams that'd have to go unrealized.
She turned her attention back to the parchment in front of her, praying John would get the hint.
But because he was only fourteen and not yet learned in the ways of ladies, he didn't.
“What is it you're writing? My philosophy paper, I hope.”
She offered him a watery smile. “No. I'm writing plans for a breakfast I'm hosting.”
“Gads. Does my brother know?”
“No, not yet.”
A slow smile spread his lips. “I think he will soon.”
Regina did, too, and judging by the look on John's face, she knew exactly who meant to inform him.
~Chapter Twelve~
Edward was perplexed. He'd been staring at the same equation for the past hour and was still no closer to solving it than he had been a week ago.
Something wasn't right where Regina was concerned. But he'd be damned if he knew what it was. She'd assured him everything was fine multiple times since finding their betrothal contract last week. She hadn't evaporated into vapors when she found it, or in the days that followed, like Mother would have done. She even allowed him entry into her bedchamber three nights in a row. But each time it always ended the same: feelings of guilt that he was forcing her to perform her marital duties overcame him to the point he felt like a brute in her presence. Unable to tolerate another night of her rigid responses and begging his forgiveness, he'd stopped seeking entry. He wanted a willing bed partner, not one who shared her bed out of fear or duty.
“Have you finally found a problem you can't solve?”
Edward snapped his head up to meet the cool blue eyes of his friend Joseph “No.”
Joseph gestured to the unfinished equation in front of him. “I just thought...”
“Right.” Edward cleared his throat. He was talking about that. “I'm just pondering it a bit. I don't want to have to restart if I make a mistake.” He lifted his pen and shook it to emphasize his meaning.
Joseph nodded slowly. “I've known you since Eton, and I've never known you to make a mistake.”
“That's because I think before I just jot something down,” he countered with a frown. Since when had Joseph grown so annoying? “What brings you by this time of day?”
“I had business to tend to in a less-favorable part of London this morning,” he said evasively.
Edward swallowed. “Tending to business” or some variant was often how Joseph referred to dealing with his sister's new husband, Rupert Griffin. A sorrier excuse for a man, Edward had never met. “I'm sorry, Joseph, I should have been watching her better.”
“Don't,” Joseph said, his voice rough. “It's my fault. Had I not left her to settle a trivial matter with Mr. Carson, it wouldn't have happened at all. I'm her brother; it was my responsibility to protect her and I didn't.”
Edward couldn't argue that. Joseph's responsibility was to protect his sister, Sophie Sinclair, and in the few minutes he'd dropped his guard, her life had forever changed. Actually, taken away from her was a more accurate description. Some details he still lacked, but having seen the poor girl wearing a dirty, shredded gown huddled in the grass followed by a hasty marriage less than two months later, he knew enough.
“It would seem you're falling down on your own responsibility,” Joseph teased, lightening the mood.
Edward scoffed. “I have no idea what has taken hold of him. Attempting to ride livestock wearing only his smalls?” And that was the lesser of John's “crimes”. He refused to even acknowledge the others. He shook his head. “I always thought he wanted to be a vicar. If he keeps this up, he'll be a prisoner.”
“Just think,” Joseph began, an amused gleam in his eye, “then he can preach to the really lost souls of England.”
“I'd rather he do his preaching on this side of the prison bars, thank you.”
Joseph waved him off and made himself comfortable in the only other chair in the room. “While I find his rebellious behavior careless and unbecoming, I do believe he'll settle down in time.”
“He'd better or I might find myself behind those same prison bars after I strangle him.”
“Strangle who?” asked a new voice to the room.
“You,” Edward said to his annoying younger brother who'd just sauntered into the room as if he didn't have a care in the world.
John grinned and shrugged in a way that Edward knew had a tendency to irritate Joseph, which was the only reason Edward didn't have him tossed out of his study post haste. If Joseph thought to irritate Edward with his presence, there was no reason not to let John stay just for the sole purpose of annoying Joseph. “I think you have enough problems mucking up your life just now that adding a murder to the list isn't very advantageous for you at present,” John said.
“I don't believe you're one to know what is and isn't causing problems in my life.”
John scoffed. “I'd say she goes around by the name of Lady Watson.”
Edward twisted his lips. “She is none of your concern.”
Joseph sighed, drawing both brothers attention to him. “Still being a shadow?”
Edward refused to answer that.
“Well, is she?” Joseph repeated.<
br />
“No,” John said for him. “From what I can tell, she has as little to do with him as possible.”
Joseph nodded his approval. “Very good.”
“No, it's not good,” Edward argued. “Now, instead of spending her day following me around, she does absolutely nothing.”
“That's not true,” John said. “Just a few days ago, I found her making a list for some breakfast she's hosting in two weeks.”
Edward's jaw dropped. “She's hosting a breakfast?” Confound it all, he knew that. Her father had as much as said so at their wedding. He scowled; this was his idea, Edward was sure of it. Well, he'd just tell her not to worry about planning that foolishness to appease her father. She was under no obligation to entertain the man.
“Edward,” Joseph said, his voice quiet, careful. “I'd suggest you assign her a different task.” He turned his head to the side and reached two long fingers up and idly scratched just under the edge of his powdered wig. “One she cannot so easily make a fool of herself.”
His words weren't meant to be unkind, but for some reason. Edward found himself wanting to defend his wife. “I don't think she'll make a fool of herself at this.” But he also didn't think it was what she really wanted to do. “Besides, I have asked her to do something else.”
“Catalogue your science notes?” John quipped.
Edward shot him a quelling look. One more statement such as that and he'd find himself locked in the nursery, eating gruel for dinner tonight. He set his quill down and directed his attention back to Joseph. “I suggested she redecorate. But as you can see—” he waved his hand around the room to show there were still only two wooden chairs, one scratched and wobbly desk, an ancient divan and a dozen bookshelves practically falling apart under the weight of the books they held: the exact same way everything had been decorated a week ago— “she clearly has no interest.”
“Then tell her she needs to find an interest,” Joseph said, his tone nonchalant. He leaned forward and placed his hands on his knees. “Your problem would rectify itself if you'd flex your proverbial muscles.”
“What the blazes does that mean?” John asked as he plopped down on the red divan closest to the fireplace. He then began to reposition the decorative pillows on the divan, making all sorts of noise as he did so.
“Are you comfortable, yet?” Joseph asked, annoyance filling his voice.
John shoved an oversized threadbare pillow behind his back and propped his feet up on the seat of a nearby chair. “I am now. Pray continue to explain why—and how—Edward should flex his proverbial muscles, as opposed to his real ones.”
Though Edward would be reluctant to admit it, he, too, had no idea what Joseph meant, but would rather let his younger brother appear greener than he.
Sighing, Joseph turned toward John. “Don't you have somewhere else to be? Racing horses in the park? Having your measurements taken for another pair of short pants? Annoying another one of God's creatures?”
“No, no, and no,” John said, smiling. “I don't have anywhere to be until eight o'clock tonight. Which means—” he pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time— “for the next four hours, my only responsibility is to be the bane of your existence.”
“Brilliant,” Joseph mumbled.
“Isn't it, though?” John asked, knocking the edges of his black boots together. “Now that you know my plans for the day, you can continue to spew your invaluable advice.”
Joseph shot Edward a pleading glance. “Can I order a footman to bodily remove him—just this once?” When Edward shook his head, Joseph sighed again. Ignoring John, Joseph continued with his advice. “Edward, stop worrying about whatever it is that's troubling you. You're the gentleman. She's the lady. Treat her as such.”
Edward schooled his face to remain expressionless. What the devil was his friend talking about?
Joseph idly ran the side of his hand across the edge of his chair and glanced one more time to John. “The problem is that you're too nice. Ladies don't like that. They don't need that. They need a gentleman to tell them what they're to do.”
“And how is this working for you?” John asked.
Joseph scowled. “Not that it's any of your business, but it works out quite nicely, thank you. Bea knows I have a duty to the title to secure an heir and—” twin patches of pink stained his pale cheeks— “allows me entry to her bedchamber when I knock.”
“She does?” John asked, his mouth agape in pure, unadulterated wonder.
Edward ducked his head to hide his smile. Had Joseph not told him the same thing only weeks before, he'd have been just as shocked as John. Heaven forbid if one of Lady Sinclair's perfectly formed curls were to become askew during bed sport. He blinked rapidly to rid his mind of the thought.
“I'll assume you did not mean to ask that aloud,” Joseph said, his tone full of icy disdain. “She knows her duty. She also knows that if she has not conceived within the year, my visits will become more frequent.”
“More frequent?” Edward lifted his brows not sure whether he wanted his friend to explain anything further or not.
“As it is, I try to remain temperate and visit her room only twice monthly. But upon the first anniversary of our marriage, if she has not conceived, I will increase my visits to weekly.”
“Weekly?” Edward choked. Had he heard Joseph correctly? Weekly was considered frequent? With the exception of the last few days, he'd been visiting Regina weekly. Had she thought it was too frequent? No, she'd have said something if she did. Or would she have...
The confident look on Joseph's face vanished for a moment then was restored. He took a deep breath. “I know that might seem too frequent to some, but I need my heir. It's my duty to the earldom.”
Edward shook his head. He didn't doubt Joseph's reasoning. In school, Joseph had been the only one not trying to sneak peeks at the naughty drawings in the book Richard Kessen stole from his father's library and brought to school. Instead, Joseph would scold the boys for indulging their base desires and try to persuade them to the ways of temperance. It was during those awkward years they'd become friends. Edward’s strong interest in science and Joseph’s rigid desire to deny himself had made them both unpopular among the others and had been a strong influence in why they’d become fast friends.
“She is your wife. You are allowed to enjoy it,” John said, his tone unusually serious.
Edward whipped his head around and, for the first time, saw his younger brother as something other than just an amusement. John was a younger son. He knew his place. He might be causing trouble now, but he'd find his way.
“Nowhere in the Bible does it say 'Thou shalt not enjoy coupling with your wife.'” John continued.
“I know,” Joseph said quickly, his face flushing crimson. “I do enjoy our couplings. I find them—”
“I don't need to hear anymore about your fleshy pleasures, Joseph,” Edward interrupted. This conversation had gone on long enough. Any more details and he might not be able to enjoy Regina in that regard any longer. “Furthermore, unless you've forgotten, there is a virgin in our presence.”
John scowled at him and Joseph coughed. “Excuse me, I quite forgot.”
Edward flicked his wrist. “Don't apologize. Unlike you at his age, he likely finds this conversation vastly interesting; but as his older brother, it is my duty to protect him from learning of things beyond his years.” Those “things” included the details of Joseph and Lady Sinclair's bedchamber activities. He suppressed a shudder. John may not realize just how big of a favor Edward had just done him.
“As I was trying to explain earlier,” Joseph began, casting an accusing glance over to John, “you need to be more assertive with Lady Watson. It's what she expects.”
Edward ground his teeth. “You might feel comfortable discussing intimate details about your nighttime activities with others, Joseph, bu
t I do not.”
Joseph eyed him carefully. “Odd. Not that I remember asking for such details, but I do remember a time when you were eager to share them.”
“Not about Regina,” he countered, heat creeping up his neck. Why did the idea of discussing her in such an intimate way bother him so much? She was just a woman. The very breed of creature that, during his brief time at Cambridge, he somehow managed to convince everyone he had plenty of experience with―though if the truth were known he'd been just as virginal on his wedding night as his bride. Not that that particular truth ever needed to be voiced.
“Well, fear not,” Joseph said, lifting his right booted foot up and placing it on his left knee. He ran his hands along the dove breeches that hugged his thighs. “Considering your randy past, I imagine you have bedchamber matters sorted out. But you could still use my advice in the other parts of your marriage. See, for Bea and me, we get along well in every other aspect. She knows what a countess' daily duty is and does it, leaving me to do mine. That's why I married her. Lady Watson doesn't come from the same background, Edward. She doesn't know her duty; you need to tell her.”
“No, he doesn't,” John cut in, shaking his head for emphasis. “What he needs to do is—”
“Explain to her just how important your plants and other nonsense are, and that, right now, your attention is required in the formation of that plant society you've been trying to form for the past two years.”
“I wouldn't do that.” John's firm voice stole Edward's attention.
“Yes, and you'd know this because you've been married how long?” Joseph asked.
John ignored him. “Edward, listen to me—”
Edward's mind spun. Around him, Joseph and John—neither of whom was what he'd consider a credible source on the subject of ladies, but they were all he had available—argued back and forth about how Edward was supposed to fix the problem with Regina. But frankly, neither of them even knew what the problem was!
“Edward, you need to just explain to her what's what. Her job as your wife is to make sure you look good both to your tenants and in Society, which includes your home. Tell her that her most important task, at present, is to redecorate your townhouse. Then she'll have something to keep her occupied.”
