***
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.
So for today, he decided to break from routine and bring her an hour's ride away to Ridge Water to spend the day with Lord and Lady Sinclair, who happened to be in the country preparing for a small house party they planned to host the following weekend.
"Married only two weeks and already you've abandoned your prized night blooming cereus all the way from the jungles of South America that I've been hearing about for more than six months," Joseph said to him by way of greeting as Edward walked into his friend's study.
Edward frowned. "I didn't forget about them. My man of affairs will be there to accept them. I've given him very detailed instructions on what to do with them when they arrive." He walked over to the window and pressed his face to the glass to see what was going on outside.
"What the devil is that?"
His friend sighed. "What does it look like?"
"A giant tallywag."
"You needn't be so vulgar, Edward," Joseph reprimanded, disapproval dripping from his voice.
"You asked what it looked like. I told you."
"Yes, you did," Joseph agreed. "But there was no reason to be so crude."
Edward eyed him askance. "Don't tell me you've forgotten what yours looks like."
Joseph's face darkened. "Bea and I have an agreement."
Silence filled the air.
Edward was as close to Joseph as he was with John. When they'd met at Eton, Joseph had already inherited his title the previous year after his father had died from the pox. Nobody dared mention that fact to Joseph, lest he wished to leave the room with a blackened eye; but it didn't make it any less true. As a result, Joseph had an unfaltering desire not to bring about any more embarrassment to his family and had practiced temperance in all things.