Their two gazes held. The rest of the world was all but forgotten.
But the moment was not meant to last and abruptly ended when a man carrying an open pint of ale stumbled into Edward.
"Pa'rn me, guvnor," the drunk man stammered before turning away.
Edward turned back to Regina, the intensity on his face gone now. "Are you all right?"
"Just fine," she returned, smoothing her skirts. She lifted her hand to block the bright sun from her eyes. "What is that fellow wearing?"
"That's a jester!" Edward's excitement at seeing the man dressed in a yellow shirt with a large white, stiff, circular collar and crimson breeches with green stockings and blue slippers, jumping around made her laugh.
She gestured to the silly looking man. "That's what you think of me?"
"Just listen to him for a minute."
"Do ye wonder why the noblemen's all have the pox?" The jester lifted his bushy eyebrows nearly to his hairline and pulled his lower lip down until his entire row of bottom teeth were exposed, then cast a quick gaze at Edward before turning back to her. "They been spendin' too much time down at the docks."
The only person who seemed to find that remotely humorous was the imbecile who'd spoken the words.
"Once again, I ask you, is that what you think of me?" Regina asked.
"Of course." The lines around Edward's eyes crinkled. "I have to admit it's been a while since I've been here. I'd quite forgotten how little intelligence one had to have to enjoy this part of the gardens."
"Did you used to come here often?" she asked as they walked away.
"More often than most." He steered them away from the other jesters. "When I was a boy, my father used to bring the lot of us here about once a week when we visited London."
"The 'lot of you'; isn't there just the two of you?"
Edward nodded; his eyes fixed ahead of them. "No. There were four others."
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.
"Don't be." His stiff shrug belied his careless words, and her heart went out to him.
"Did you enjoy coming here as a boy?"
"It was much better than the alternative," he said, laughing. "Yes. Not only was it a pleasant escape from the mundane life of studying in a nursery all afternoon, but I actually enjoyed eating a giant turkey leg and watching the performances."
The image of a little blond haired, wide eyed boy flashed in her mind. "You were an adorable child, I'd wager."
"You'd lose that wager." Not a drop of sarcasm was in his voice. "Mother claimed I had a face that only a mother could love." He twisted his lips. "Though, if the truth were known, I have a hard time believing that she loved it."
I do. She bit her lip to keep from embarrassing herself that way. "Surely she didn't mean that."
"I'd imagine she did." He grinned. "When I was three, I found a rock down by the brook that I was certain had to be a diamond. The largest one I'd ever seen." He held his hands up and put his fingers together to show her an oval the size of an egg. "In my hurry to show my father my discovery, I tripped over a large stick and fell on the front step of Watson Estate, knocking out these four teeth-" he ran his index finger along his four front teeth on top- "and these;" he pointed to the two bottom ones in the center. "I was ten before they all grew back. But by then, I'd naturally lost some of the others. It was more than ten years from the time I knocked those out until I had a full set again."
Regina had no idea why that was such an endearing story. But it was. "I don't have a story that could rival that one, I'm afraid. My life was always uneventful. When I was four, my mother died of pneumonia and my brother and I went to live in the country with Aunt Florence. Then when I was ten, I went to Sloan's School for Young Ladies and Toby went to live in London to learn to be a banker like Father."
"Did you see either your father or brother again before your come out?"
"Rarely," she admitted. "They were both too busy to visit and preferred I went to Aunt Florence's country estate for breaks and holidays."
"I'm sorry," he said, leading her to a nearby bench.
"It's all right," she said dismissively, squinting from the bright sun. "At least at Aunt Florence's, I had more freedom than Father would have allowed. Not much, of course, but more than just sitting in Father's townhouse all day."
"Do you like being outdoors?" he asked after a minute, his eyes oddly intent.
"Of course," she said with a wistful sigh. "What young girl doesn't dream of having some sort of adventure?"
"I don't know. I've never been privy to the thoughts of young girls."
She swatted at his arm. "You know exactly what I meant."
"Yes. I think I do."
~Chapter Twenty~
Edward did know exactly what she had meant, and he knew exactly what he needed to do to give it to her.
"John," he said, opening the door of what used to be their third story nursery before last summer when John had taken some strange notion to use it as his bedchamber.
John looked up from where he was sitting in a green chair by the fire, reading a book. "Is something wrong?"
Edward stepped inside and closed the door behind himself. "No. I just wanted to talk to you now in case I don't see you in the morning."
John sighed. "I already told you everything that happened."
Edward lifted his hand to halt his brother's words. "I know," he said with a swallow. "And though Mr. Sweeny doesn't believe your tale, I do." This wasn't what he'd wanted to speak to John about, but perhaps now was the perfect time to reassure him. "John, sometimes our best intentions can still go wrong. Look at what happened when I tried to keep the truth about our betrothal from Regina to spare her feelings?"
"It's not the same." John swallowed and closed his book. "I didn't go out there with the best of intentions."
Edward nodded. "I was fourteen not that long ago. I know exactly what your intentions were."
John shifted uncomfortably. "Does this ruin my credibility as a vicar-should I still choose that path?"
"No. It just means you're human." He untied his loosened cravat and pulled it off. "I think it speaks far more for your character than against it that you changed your mind and tried to do right by her."
"But if I hadn't changed my mind, nobody would have ever known what happened that night."
"Perhaps, but you'd have known." He took a deep breath. These were conversations better had between a father and son. A memory of his father's conversation with him about what had happened to Joseph's father when he didn't keep his prick in his pants sprang to mind. Thinking about it that way, Edward might be better suited to guide John than Father would have been, after all. "I know you're embarrassed right now because you changed your mind- don't speak, I'm still talking." He sighed. "In the end, you made the right choice. That's all that matters."
John didn't look so convinced.
"John, what if you had gone through with it and she'd conceived? How would you feel then?"
"I hadn't considered that," John said quietly.
"Well, don't consider it now. You didn't do anything." Knowing John and his overwhelming sense of always wanting to do the right thing, he'd have begged Edward to let him marry the tavern wench even if there was a possibility the child could have been conceived from the seed of another man. Likely, if he'd been of age when this had happened, he'd have hauled her off to Gretna Green and married her instead of just giving her all the money in his pocket and his clothes. "John, you have to stop worrying about this. You did nothing wrong."
"I know," John admitted dully.
Edward wanted to groan. "Do you regret your choice and wish that you had slept with her? Because I can tell you right now, there is a vast difference between a woman who wishes to share her bed with you and one who's accepting your attentions because she doesn't have a choice." Edward didn't know who was more stunned by his comment and didn't exactly care. Though Regina was the only woman he'd been intimate with, there was an enormous difference in her behavior when she'd welcomed him into her bed when she'd wanted him there and when she hadn't.
"That's not what I meant, Edward."
Edward took a calming breath. He was this close to snapping at his brother. But that wouldn't get him anywhere. "John, are you afraid of someone's altered opinion of you?"