His Contract Bride (Banks Brothers Brides 1)(25)

Just as she gained her feet, a gentle knock came from the door.

"Come in," she whispered.

Edward entered, dressed in his typical dark blue dressing robe. "Are you ready for bed?"

Regina blinked at his inane question. "As ready as you are, my lord,"  she said, giving a pointed look from her oversized nightgown to his  dressing robe.

"Very good," he said with a nod. He made his way to the dressing screen and removed his dressing robe.

She stood still, her feet planted to the floor.

Edward slung his robe over the screen then started toward her. He placed  one large hand on her waist, applying the slightest amount of pressure.

Taking that as a hint to climb into bed, she did just that.

He followed her and waited for her to get settled. Then, without  uttering so much as a syllable, Edward wrapped his right arm around her,  pulled her against his body, and drifted off to sleep.





~Chapter Eighteen~





Guilt was a powerful emotion. One that had the power to cripple a person  with the fear of what they might lose if a wrong they'd done-no matter  how right it'd felt at the time-was discovered.                       
       
           



       

And so, with a mission to assuage her guilt, Regina seized the  opportunity of Edward's sudden return to Eton, this time with John, Lord  Sinclair and one of Lord Sinclair's younger brothers, to sort out a  mess that seemed to involve more people as the days passed. Not that she  minded. His absence gave her the opportunity to do her best to set  things to rights.

If only it didn't involve her father, she thought bitterly as she  stepped out into the light rain. Edward had taken the Watson carriage to  Eton this morning, leaving her to walk the three blocks to Olive  Street, where her father lived, with only the protection of her parasol.  No matter. That was a small price to pay for a happy marriage.

Ten minutes later, her father's townhouse came into view. She took a  deep breath as she climbed the stairs. Swallowing her pride as best she  could, she took hold of the brass knocker and gave three swift bangs.

Much to her surprise, Toby answered the door.

"Where's your husband?" Toby asked, closing the door behind her.

Regina spun around to face her brother. "He's at Eton."

Toby's jaw dropped. "He is? And here I thought he'd graduated already."

"He has," she said between clenched teeth.

"It's no shame to you if your husband was so distracted by the females  he was unable to complete his education and had to return to attend to  his studies to escape his meddlesome wife."

Regina stared at him. He must have been drinking because that sentence  made absolutely no sense. "I'm here to see Father. Do you know if he's  in?"

Toby crossed his arms. "You know he doesn't like to have people arrive uninvited."

"I know. But I'm not just anyone. I'm his daughter."

Toby snorted. "He's in a meeting just now."

"Very well, I'll wait for him in the drawing room."

Much to her great irritation, Toby followed her, taking out his flask as  he walked. "What have you managed to ruin that requires Father's help  to mend?"

Regina swallowed the lump in her throat. Toby might be an easily  manipulated drunk, but he certainly knew her well enough to know the  truth of why she'd come here today.

He took a swig of his whiskey and wiped the back of his hand across his  lips. "It must be bad, indeed," he mused, a smug smile on his lips.

"It's not so bad," Regina said airily, racking her brain for something  to say to change the subject. "I just wish to discuss a matter with  him."

"The breakfast you're hosting, I hope," Father said from the doorway. He walked into the room. "Toby, out."

Toby shot to his feet as if he'd been tapped on the bottom with a heated fire poker.

"Why did you come here?" Father demanded. His face was rigid and the muscle in his right jaw ticked.

Regina moistened her lips. "I-I..."

"Want to catch your death by coming down with the ague," Father supplied  for her when it was clear she wasn't able to finish her statement.

"Rain is falling from the sky, not bullets," she retorted before she could think better of it.

"Be mindful of who you're talking to, Regina," Father thundered.

"Forgive me. I have no idea what has come over me."

"I pray you don't disrespect your husband that way," he said, crossing his arms.

"I don't." At least, she didn't think she did. Edward had never grown  angry with her or accused her of disrespect when she made such offhand  comments.

"And why are you here and not with your husband?"

Regina took a deep breath. She'd never asked her father for anything  before. But she couldn't avoid it. She had to pay for the items she'd  purchased on Edward's credit before he found out about them. She  straightened her spine. "I need to borrow a small sum."

Father's eyes lit. "Has your husband exhausted his credit somewhere?" he asked, cocking his head to the side in interest.

"No. I have."

Her father laughed. "Too many gowns will bankrupt a man, Regina." He  idly flexed the fingers of his right hand as she'd seen him do many  times after meetings with clients.

She simultaneously cleared her throat and her thoughts. "Will you lend me the money?"

"I do wonder why it is your husband doesn't ask me himself."

"He doesn't know."

Father rolled his eyes. "I have a hard time believing that tale. He  might have an unnatural interest in natural science, but I doubt he  doesn't know to keep track of his expenses." He waved a stiff hand  through the air. "It's of no account. I shall lend you the money." He  reached into the breast pocket of his coat and took out a bag of coins.  "How much do you need?"                       
       
           



       

"Two hundred pounds," Regina said with a gulp.

"Damn, Regina. It's little wonder you need to borrow the money. Any man  who sees his wife has spent so much on useless frippery is likely to  lock her away." He gestured for her to follow him down the hall to his  study. "Why don't you sit down while I write out a bank note?"

"I'll pay you back," she said meekly, taking a seat.

"Yes, I know you will." His words were spoken as if it were all a big jest to him.

"I mean it, Father. I'll pay every pence back. With interest."

Father's pen scratched across the parchment in front of him. "Of course  you will." He finished filling in the bank note then set it aside.  "Shall we discuss the terms?"

"The terms?"

Father flicked his wrist. "Never mind all of that," he murmured,  scribbling across the paper in front of him. He handed the paper to her.  "Just sign this."

Regina took the paper and picked up a nearby quill. She inked the quill and brought it to the paper.

Across the desk, her father had that impassive look on his face. The  very one he'd worn when he'd convinced Regina that Edward had requested  her hand for a reason other than they were already betrothed and he was  ready to call in the contract.

She pulled the pen away and read the paper in front of her. She frowned. It was written in Latin.

"I understand that I'll have to repay your two hundred pounds, but what does decem mean?"

"It means ten in Latin."

She nodded. "So I'll owe you ten percent interest?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what exactly does the ten have to do with anything?"

Father's mouth formed a tight line. "You'd do well to remember your  place. You're the one in need of something here, not me. I don't know of  any other banks who will lend money to a lady, but if you'd like to be  insolent, then you may find someone else to lend you the funds." He  leaned closer. "And believe me; even if you were to find such a man, my  demands are far more favorable than his would be."

A chill ran down her spine. "I'm not refusing, I just don't know what your terms are," she pointed out.

"Ten invitations," he said simply, his face relaxing. "In addition to  the two events you are hosting, I should like you to make sure I am  invited to ten events that are hosted by someone of the rank of countess  or higher."

"You're cracked," she burst out. "I don't even know ten ladies of such rank."

"Then you'd better start making friends."

Regina's lower lip quivered, so she clamped her teeth down on the inside  to keep it still. What he was asking was impossible. She'd never been  very popular at school. There was no way she'd be able to make friends  with enough ladies this Season to meet his demands. "And if I am unable  to gain you the ten invitations?"