"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, but 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."
"I already suggested that," Edward repeated though it was clear neither were actually listening to him.
"Perhaps if you spent as much time studying Regina and getting to know what she likes as you do your science circulars, you wouldn't have these problems," John suggested with all the bluntness of a younger brother.
"Don't listen to him; he's barely out of leading strings," Joseph said, curling his lips up in disgust. "A lady's responsibility is seeing to her husband's needs. Just tell her what you need her to do and have done with it." He shook his head and muttered, "Get to know her better. That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
But it wasn't the most ridiculous thing Edward had ever heard. Those days he and Regina had spent together had been surprisingly fun. She may not know a single thing about science, but at least she'd attempted to answer his asinine questions and seemed content to spend her days with him. An idea formed in his mind. "Perhaps I should see if she'd like to join me in starting up that biological society I've been trying to form. I'd planned to invite some of the other gentlemen who'd expressed interest in such a society for an informal meeting. Perhaps she'd like to participate, too."
John groaned loudly then threw his head backwards. "Edward, I said to find out what she likes. Science is what you like-"
"She seemed content to discuss it with me before," Edward interrupted with a frown.
"Content, but did she enjoy it?" John asked.
Edward threw his hands into the air. This marriage business was turning into a lot of work. "How the devil am I supposed to know?"
"Well, I'll tell you. She didn't," John said flatly.
"And how would you know?"
John sat upright and shrugged. "Did you find it fun when Mother made us play hoodman blind or shoe the wild mare at Christmastime?"
Edward blinked. "What the devil does that have to do with anything?"
"Just answer. Did you find that fun?"
"No."
"But you did it because it appeased Mother, didn't you?"
Edward stared at his brother. For being only fourteen and finding himself in trouble more times than not, his brother was surprisingly observant.
A giant grin split his brother's face. "While you like to observe plants and animals, I like to observe people. Regina might tolerate your science nonsense more than most, but those aren't her interests. They're yours. Find hers."
"When the devil did you learn so much about ladies?" John opened his mouth to answer, and Edward cut him off by lifting his hand to stop his words. "After further thought, please don't answer that. There are some things I'm better off not knowing."
"And there are some things I'm better off not telling you."
~Chapter Thirteen~
What remained of Regina's good humor was disappearing faster than the biscuits Lady Sinclair was snatching off the platter in front of her.
"This has got to be the most uncomfortable settee in all of London," Lady Sinclair declared with a frown. She wiggled on the settee and made a show of fluffing an unfluffable pillow.
"Perhaps you'd like to place another pillow behind your back?" Regina offered, extending what must have been an overstuffed pillow at one time.
Lady Sinclair reached one bejeweled hand out and took the pillow before stuffing it behind her back with a huff. She leaned back against the pillow, reclining herself to a perfect forty-five degree angle. "Only a slight improvement, I'm afraid."
There wasn't a chance in the world Regina was about to apologize or offer to get Lady Sinclair anything else to make her more comfortable. As if her morning call hadn't been enough to endure, she'd been locked in this room for the last two hours listening to Lady Sinclair complain about her newfound condition: breeding.
"Wouldn't you know that my chest has nearly tripled in size," Lady Sinclair announced, cupping her bosom for emphasis.
Regina fought the urge to roll her eyes at Lady Sinclair's ridiculous announcement of her breasts tripling in size so soon gave a cursory glance to where Lady Sinclair was cupping her breasts. Honestly, she couldn't tell a bit of difference in their size. "I'm sure they'll return to their former size after your grand event." Truly, did it matter? Lady Sinclair hadn't had a very large bust to begin with. At least now, she'd be able to wear those swooped gowns she'd once paid an unintended compliment to Regina for wearing.
Lady Sinclair reached up and tightened one of the pins holding her center curl in place. "I'm hoping after I tell Joseph tonight that he'll leave me be."
"Pardon?"
A small smile bent Lady Sinclair's lips. "That is the best part of increasing, dear. Once you've conceived, your husband will leave you be."
"Oh." Why was that a good thing? Did Lady Sinclair not enjoy her husband's attentions? Regina's skin grew warm. Lord and Lady Sinclair's marriage bed was none of her concern. "Have you thought of what you'll name him?"
Lady Sinclair's face flushed pink. "Regina, it is most indecent to talk about such matters." She dropped her voice. "However, I shall tell you if you promise not to tell anyone else."
That was a promise Regina had no trouble making. For who of her acquaintance would possibly care to know?
"If it's a boy, Joseph wants to name him Marcus." She twisted her lips as if she'd just tasted a lemon. "Isn't that ghastly?"
No. It was actually a very nice, respectable name, but Regina had no urge to argue with Lady Sinclair. "And if the baby is a girl?"
"I shall name her Olivia Catherine Mary Marie Victoria Sinclair." She clapped her hands together. "Isn't it lovely?"
"Of course," Regina murmured, vowing never to use a single one of those names for her daughter should she ever be fortunate enough to have one. Instinctively, her hands went to her stomach. She sighed. It was too soon to know either way.