"Regina, I didn't mean to hurt you," he said, taking a step toward her.
She flicked her wrist dismissively and smiled. "It's of no account. I was the one silly enough to believe... Well, never mind all of that." She slid open the top left drawer of his desk and slipped their blasted betrothal agreement inside. "As you can see, I was unable to locate where you keep your parchment. If you'd be kind enough to bring some with you, I'll be waiting for you in the library." And with that, she said nothing else, just stepped out from behind his desk and walked right past him, head high, shoulders back, chin up, sweeping the room as if she were a queen-and leaving him more uncertain than when he'd first entered.
***
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.