by Rose Gordon
Tears pricked the back of her eyes. She'd been used. Her entire life she'd been taught to uphold her duty. But at what cost? Being used and trampled; ignored and never good enough. She blinked back the tears and her eyes landed on that ridiculous rabbit. Edward. Edward had never once treated her as if she were unimportant. He might have tried to keep her occupied to assuage his guilt for lying to her, but even his omission wasn't done to hurt her. Just the opposite, he'd done what he could to protect her feelings and pride. He didn't try to use her feelings for him against her as her father would have done.
“No, your efforts were not for me,” she said as smoothly as she could when she found her voice again. “You didn't do anything for me; you did it all for your own gain. Don't even try to deny it. Everything you've ever done for me was actually for you.”
Father smoothed his left cuff. “I have no idea what you speak of, Regina, and to be frank, neither do you.”
The condescension in his tone hit her harder than his palm could have. “Yes, I do, and you know it. It's the reason you refused to come visit me at Sloan's. You wanted me to meet Edward that day without knowing he was already my intended, so I could become smitten by the address he paid me—which you knew he would because we were already betrothed—and wish to attend every social event I could manage an invitation to, in hopes of seeing him again. But you knew all along that he was mourning his father and wouldn't be there. Still, you encouraged me to go and look for a suitable husband. That wasn't for me. That was for you. Just like my marriage to Edward wasn't for me, it was for you.” A sudden onslaught of emotion clogged her throat, robbing her of her voice. “You just wanted your daughter to be a real lady. It didn't matter one bit to you whose lady she was.”
“Yes, well, that matters naught, now. A baron was the best I could manage for the price I was willing to pay to get you to the position of being a titled lady.”
“Get out of my house, you blackhearted, filthy bastard,” she shouted, jumping to her feet and pointing to the door.
Her father didn't move from where he sat on the settee. “My, my, Regina, I do wonder what your husband thinks of your coarse language and tart tongue?
“It's what he loves about her most,” a deep baritone said from the doorway.
~Chapter Thirty-Two~
“Her husband loves it when she speaks what's on her mind. It's what makes her, her. And part of the reason I love her.” Edward cast Regina a slim smile. This wasn't how he'd planned to tell her that he loved her—actually he wasn't sure if he'd have ever told her. But it was his loose tongue and the habit he had of having things tumble out before thinking about them, that had put voice to his deepest thoughts.
Mr. Harris pushed to his feet and snorted. “Love? Her?”
Edward speared him with his eyes. “Yes. I do love her. You might have formed some ridiculous reason in your mind not to find her lovable, but I do.”
“You cannot possibly love her,” Mr. Harris retorted with a scoff. “She's defiant, tart tongued, and despite all the money spent to send her to a girls' school, she still lacks an ounce of social polish.”
“Ah, but those things have never mattered to me, Mr. Harris. I know they are of great import to you, but I couldn't give a hang if I'm ever invited to darken the door of another lord's house again.” He gave a casual shrug. “In fact, I care so little that I think Lady Watson and I might retire to the country, never to participate in another Season again.”
A vile curse escaped Mr. Harris’ lips. “Now, you listen here; I didn't pay your father fifteen thousand pounds to be ignored. My daughter is Lady Watson. She'll not be secreted away because you'd rather count how many thorns are on your rose bushes. She'll attend all the invitations she's issued and host her own events, starting with another breakfast. She owes it to me.”
“No, you listen here,” Edward said in measured tones. Never before had he had such a strong urge to stop someone's words with his fist. “She's your daughter. She's not some animal you can command about. She's told you she's not hosting another breakfast and asked you to leave. I'd advise you to do so.”
“Or what, she'll redecorate my townhouse—”
Crack! Able to control his urge no longer, Edward's fist collided squarely with the center of Mr. Harris' nose, knocking the older man off balance and leading him to fall to the floor.
Mr. Harris grunted as he staggered to gain his footing. He moved his left hand to cover his nose and bright blood trickled out between his fingers. “You broke my nose, you son-of-—”
Crack! Edward punched him again—in the jaw this time. “No need to finish that sentence. I already know my mother's shortcomings,” he said grimly. “Besides, there's a lady present.”
“She's no lady,” Mr. Harris spat, from his newfound seat on the floor. “She's an ungrateful—”
“She's my wife, and the lady of this house,” Edward growled. He refused to kick the man while he seemed to be so defenseless. “And I believe, as such, she has requested that you leave. I'd advise you to heed it.”
Mr. Harris wiped the back of his hand across the blood pooled at the bottom of his nose and stood. “Not until she promises me another breakfast to make up for this travesty.”
Edward tightened his hands into fists. One more mention of a breakfast and this man would be unable to break his fast again for lack of teeth.
“Actually, Father,” Regina said, coming to Edward's side. “In four weeks, I'll be having another.”
Edward's jaw dropped. After all the vile things he'd said, not just about her, but also to her, and she was still cowing to his demands?
“If you'd like to join the Society of Biological Matters, you are welcome to return for their meeting next month,” Regina finished smoothly, eliciting a slight measure of pride for his wife. At least she wasn't giving in completely to him. Not that he loved the idea of him joining his Society, but he could deal with that matter later. Being president did have its advantages.
“No,” Mr. Harris sneered. “You'll host the breakfast and the ball you promised me.”
“No. I won't,” she shot back, her brown eyes flashing fire. “I'll no longer play the pawn in your games. Today's was the last invitation you'll ever receive, if I have anything to say about it.”
Pride for his wife soared. She'd done it! Regina had finally stood up to her father! And she hadn't just asked him to leave today, she'd made it clear to him that not only would she not be inviting him back to her home, but also that she'd no longer be a means to garner him invitations.
“What are you waiting for, Harris?” Edward barked. “If I were you, I'd take myself out of here while my legs are still able to carry me.” Now that Regina had taken a stand for herself, Edward just wanted him out.
Mr. Harris scowled at them both. “This isn't over.”
“Yes. I do believe it is,” Edward said, gesturing to the footmen in the hall.
Before Mr. Harris could have a fair chance to know what was going on, two of Edward's largest footmen, Banes and Finn, lifted him up and tossed him out the front door.
“Do you think he'll really leave us alone?” Regina asked quietly.
“Yes. All he cares about is appearances, and once it's reported in the Times that he was bodily tossed out of Lord and Lady Watson's London residence, he'll stay as far away from here as he can.”
“However would that information make it into the Times?”
Edward shook his head and made a tsk, tsk sound. “Oh, Regina, have you learned nothing from our time together? That story will find its way into the gossip column. Do not worry about that.”
A slow smile spread her lips. “And they call John, Trouble.”
“As you said, he had to learn his tricks from someone.”
Her smile faded. “But what if that doesn't stop him? What if it makes him angrier?”
“Then, my lady, you'll ju
st have to trust the hero of your fable to slay that dragon for the lady he loves.” He put his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. “That's right. I love you. Despite my best efforts to fight that emotion that has the power to cripple a man and make him into a candidate fit for bedlam, I've fallen madly and deeply in love with you.” he whispered in her ear. “I love everything about you, Regina. I love the way you have a quick retort for nearly everything I say. I love the way you keep me aspiring to be a better husband to you. I love the way you're not afraid to stand up to me, even if it means decorating our townhouse to look like a rainbow exploded.”
“Is that why you wouldn't allow me to have it changed?”
“Of course it is,” he said. “It wasn't to embarrass you or remind you of your impulsiveness. I liked it because you did it as a means to put me in my place, and I love that about you.”
“I love you, too,” she said, her voice uneven.
He released a breath he didn't even know he was holding and pulled his head back so he could see her face. “You do?”
“Of course I do, Edward. I never stopped.”
“But you stopped saying it,” he pointed out.
Her face flushed crimson. “A person doesn't have to say it, to feel it. You should know that.”
Edward blinked at her. “And how did you reach that conclusion?”
She didn't say anything, she just pointed to the oak end table on the other side of the settee.
He cringed. “What the devil does a stuffed rabbit have to do with anything?”
“Everything.” She wound her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to hers so their foreheads touched. “When my father and I were in here alone, he mentioned the stuffed rabbit. That's when I knew you loved me.”
“Really?” he drawled. “And did the rabbit tell you this?”
“Actually, he did. When I saw him, everything from our trip came back to my mind. The way you'd come up with the idea to take me in the first place based on some offhand remark I made at Covent Garden. The way you'd never once lost your temper or snapped at me when there were several opportunities to. Without saying an unkind word, you caught us fish to eat instead of rabbit then rubbed salve on my blisters.”
She swallowed uncomfortably and licked her lips. “I know that given my past, I cannot be termed an expert, but what I do know is that nobody has ever treated me that way before; and if what John says about the definition of the word love based on the book of First Corinthians is true, then I declare, you, Edward Banks, love me.”
Edward laughed at her reasoning. “Well, you're right. I do love you, Regina.” He dropped a kiss on her lips. “I will admit though, I am a little disappointed that the rabbit told you instead of me.”
“It's better that way.”
She could not be serious. “And how is that?”
“Well, if John hadn't hung those ugly paintings, you'd have shown me that silly rabbit before I came in here with my father. Then, instead of being caught off guard when my father mentioned it, I would have just dismissed it and blurted something out to appease him. But since I didn't know, I was stunned, and it was while I stared at that rabbit that I realized that even though my father doesn't love me, you do. And Edward, that's all that matters to me.”
Edward squeezed her in a tight hug and kissed her soft lips. “For the sake of my stomach and sparing myself a meal of gruel, I must confess that the rabbit is not why I brought you in here earlier, Regina.”
“It's not?”
“No,” he said. “In fact, I didn't know the rabbit had been left in here until you mentioned it. Do not get any ideas now, Regina. Bartholomew the Bunny is staying put from now until I die to remind you how much I love you every time you walk into this room. But—” he walked over to the cherry secretary and picked up a wooden box then carried it back to her— “this is what I wanted to show you.”
“Oh Edward,” she exclaimed, taking the box from his hands. She ran her fingers over the curvy line that divided the green grass from the blue water, then touched the white painted rocks and the brown of a tree trunk, before turning her attention to the boat where a man with a paddle was sitting on one side facing a woman who held a picnic hamper. “It's beautiful.”
“Watch the boat, now.” He reached underneath and slowly tugged the wire, making the boat slowly glide from one end of the creek to the other as the paddle in the man's hand slowly moved back and forth.
“You made this for me?”
“I had to remember Gallant somehow,” he teased, pointing to where he'd painted “Gallant” on the side. He gave her a kiss. “My father was right, you know. We do have the best sort of marriage.”
“And how is that?” she asked, her eyebrows puckering.
Edward dropped a kiss on the furrow in her brow. “I didn't have to suffer balls and breakfasts to win the affections of my debutante. I got to use far superior ways to win her over.”
“Yes, you had to endure tennis, flipped boats, and sleeping in the grass.”
“Mmmhmmm,” he said against her hair. “Those would have never happened during a normal courtship. And, if you'll come upstairs with me, I'll demonstrate something else that we wouldn't be able to do had this been a normal courtship.”
Epilogue
May 1814
Watson Estate
“Look at them. Both so in love,” Regina whispered in her husband's ear as he swayed her to the music.
Edward craned his neck to see, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. Even after more than thirty years, she loved to see him smile that way. “Only he doesn't know it yet.”
“You didn't know it at our wedding, either,” Regina reminded him as her eyes went back to where their oldest son Alex was dancing with his bride.
Edward's hands tightened their hold on her waist. “That's different. I didn't think I was marrying for love.”
“And neither does Alex.”
“No, he thought he was marrying today to escape some betrothal agreement his fool of a father signed for him.”
Regina pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “You're not a fool. A bit misguided at times, but that's what I'm for.”
“And where were you that night?”
“At home in bed. Waiting for your return.”
Edward chuckled. “I didn’t think I'd get foxed so fast,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “I only accepted Joseph's offer of a drink to drown out his wife's screams.” He grimaced. “Five drinks later, I signed my son's life away to a hoyden.”
“That's not the way I remember it,” Regina said, trying not to laugh. “You told me that you and Joseph were so excited his daughter and our son shared a birthday that the two of you started thinking it must be a sign and you'd had a successful match that way—”
“Hold your tongue,” he said with a scowl. “Oh, all right, between the coincidence that his daughter was born on the same day as our son—only eight years later— and all the alcohol we both consumed, we thought it'd be a brilliant idea for them to marry.” He shuddered. “Who'd have known she'd become a shrew?”
“Had you met her mother?”
Edward sighed. “Yes. But I'd also met her father. He seemed to be doing a fine job with their son. How was I supposed to know he'd allow his wife to spoil their daughter?”
“Do you really think that's why he let you amend the agreement? Because it was becoming apparent his daughter would be a shrew, that is?”
The two exchanged a look, neither daring to say aloud what they'd both thought for more than twenty years. But the facts were all there. Lady Sinclair had brown hair and grey eyes. Lord Sinclair had black hair with blue eyes. Their daughter, Lady Olivia Sinclair, was the only member of either of their sides of the family who had red hair and green eyes.
“It doesn't matter now,” Edward said with a faint cough. “Alex
married the one he was meant to. Just like John did.” He looked over in time to see John spin his wife wildly into one of her dancing daughters. “And as much as I didn't realize it at the time, so did I.”
Regina looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “Do you really mean that?”
He pulled her close. “Have you been to the townhouse in London recently and seen all the stuffed critters covering every surface available?”
Her heart swelled as the memories of adding a new souvenir from each of their adventures together flooded her mind. As Edward had promised, they'd filled their marriage with many adventures together. And all she had to do to remember each was look around their unusually decorated townhouse.
The music played on, and Edward tightened his hold on her, pulling her so close their hearts beat in time together as he continued to sway her to the music as if it was one long song in the background.
“Do you know what I love most about you?” he asked in her ear.
“What's that?” she murmured against his chest.
One of his broad hands rubbed a small circle on her back. “That no matter what I might have done or said over the years, you never stopped loving me.”
“That I do, Edward. I have always loved you, and I always will.”
If you enjoyed His Contract Bride, I would appreciate it if you would help others enjoy this book, too.
Lend it. This e-book is lending-enabled, so please, share it with a friend.
Recommend it. Please help other readers find this book by recommending it to friends, readers’ groups and discussion boards.
