She nodded. "He'd have said it was my fault, but, unlike you, he wouldn't have been jesting."
Irritation for the man swelled inside him. "I'm glad you recognized my jest as just that."
"You seem to do that a lot. Jest, I mean."
He bent forward and untied his leather boots. They'd be terribly uncomfortable to walk in now that they were wet. "Too much?"
"No. I rather like it."
"Good. I should hate to have to change my personality in order to please my wife." His fingers stilled on his boot laces. "I apologize, that did not come out as I intended."
"I'm not sure I know what you mean."
Edward kicked off his boots and then peeled off his stockings. "Then think nothing of it," he said dismissively, taking to his now bare feet. At every turn, she was proving different than both his mother and his father in every matter they encountered. Frankly, he didn't know what to think of her anymore. "We should probably start walking now if we want to make it back to Watson Townhouse before your breakfast."
A wobbly smile took her lips. "That was another jest, wasn't it?"
"Partially." He scooped up his discarded boots and stockings in his left hand then helped her gain her feet. "It's approximately five miles from where we had our picnic to Watson Estate and another two miles to where we turned around. But since we'd only just turned around a mile or so ago, I think we still have a mile yet until we get to the Y."
"Oh."
He squeezed her hand and then interlaced their fingers. "Not to worry, my lady. I'll get you home in time for your breakfast." Home? When had he started thinking of Watson Townhouse as his home? He'd hated going there. With very little interior room as compared to Watson Estate, there wasn't anywhere to escape when Father and Mother took to arguing except to the third story nursery or Covent Garden. Not like at Watson Estate, where he could race his horse across the fields, swim in the creek, or get lost with his brothers on an adventure.
"Do you think?"
Edward started. "I beg your pardon, I was woolgathering." He guided them around a bed of sharp rocks. "Go on."
"I just wondered if you think everyone who'll be at my breakfast will have a good time."
"Of course," he lied, taking a keen interest in where his bare feet were about to walk. He could think of at least two people who wouldn't find it a pleasant experience.
Regina's grip tightened a fraction then relaxed. "I hope you're right. My father is really looking forward to this event and I hope I don't disappoint him."
Edward ground his teeth. "Do you care so much for his opinion of you?"
"Yes," she whispered.
He turned to study her face. Something was different. "Why?"
"I've never been able to gain his approval before."
"And you think this breakfast is how you will?"
She bit her lip and nodded. "I hope so. I've worked very hard on this breakfast, and I hope he sees that I'm not the featherbrain he thinks me."
Edward felt a hint of guilt for the caliber of people he'd invited to her breakfast, then in an instant it was gone. "You don't need his approval, you know?"
"Sure I do. The same as you, I have a family duty to uphold."
"Do you have a title I don't know about?"
She cast him a weak smile. "No. I was actually talking about your family duty to marry me."
"That wasn't family duty."
She snorted. "Then, did your father have the fifteen thousand pounds to repay my father?"
He released her hand and helped her over a fallen log. "My father's need for money had nothing to do with our betrothal."
"It didn't?"
"No." He took her hand in his again, noting the way her walking wasn't quite as graceful as it had been when they'd started. Her skin was cool, too. "My father didn't want me to have the same sort of marriage he had; that's why he sought to arrange my marriage. See, my parents were in love, just with different people."
"Oh, dear."
"Oh dear, indeed." He squeezed her hand. But was it for her benefit, or his? "Contrary to the romantic stories you ladies enjoy reading so much, Father was the one who had a deep, indestructible, and unrequited love for Mother. He said he'd been cast under her spell the moment they met, or some such nonsense. Unfortunately, Father wasn't the first man she'd ensnared, but he was the wealthiest. Instead of a dowry, Father agreed to pay a bride price, which turned out to be far more than the initial ten thousand pounds he gave her father. He paid dearly with his heart.
"Mother never stopped loving her impoverished Italian count. When she and Father would quarrel, she'd threaten to go live with him. Likely, it was during one of their spats that our fathers signed that contract. Then, when I was fourteen, Mother died. It was after her funeral that he explained to me how much better my marriage would be, since we'd both enter it knowing the other wasn't in love-" He shut his mouth with a snap and his heart hammered wildly in his chest. He'd already said too much, and judging by the stricken look on her face, she knew exactly what he was about to say.
"I'm sorry," he whispered a few minutes later.
"It's not your fault my father lied to me."
"No, but I should have been more careful with what I was saying."
She turned her head to look at a tree they were passing.
He squeezed her hand to gain her attention. "Can I trust you to keep a secret?"
"You can tell me, but remember that you can't untell me."
He chuckled at her weak jest. What a fortunate man he was to be leg-shackled to such a forgiving lady. "There's not a reason for me to untell you anything, especially this. But, because of a vow I made to my brothers when I was younger, I had to ask if you could keep a secret?"
Regina stared at him as if he were cracked.
Cringing at the awkward feeling of mud squishing between his toes, he said, "As I'm sure you've noticed by now, words have a way of tumbling right out of my mouth."
"Yes, I've noticed."
"And you like it, too, don't you?"
She offered him a wobbly smile. "Perhaps." Her right shoulder went up in a shrug. "It's so much different from what I'm accustomed to, I suppose."
"Good. I'm glad you like it. I do, too. In fact, my favorite thing to do is scandalize you whenever possible."
"You're the kind who would," she said, shaking her head.
"Of course, I would. It makes your cheeks turn a ravishing shade of pink."
Regina snarled in the most comical way he'd ever seen, only adding to his amusement. "All right, what secret is Lord Watson keeping that makes him feel he might perish if he doesn't reveal it soon?"
He dropped his boots to the ground. "First, I must ask you another question."
"Which is?"
"How adventurous are you feeling?"
~Chapter Twenty-Four~
Regina honestly had no idea how much more adventure she could handle. Her hair had fallen and was becoming more tangled as the minutes passed. Her long gown was still wet, cold, and heavy, making keeping pace with Edward a struggle. Had she been alone, that dress would have been abandoned no less than an hour ago, her modesty only stretched so far. And then, there were her feet. Between her stiff slippers and the rocks and twigs that littered the ground, they hurt more than anything else. It would forever remain a mystery to her how Edward had been able to walk barefooted all this way.
"Uh, do I have a choice?"
He shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, but given that the sun has begun to set and we're just now to the Y in the creek, I don't think we have any other option than to stay out here tonight and continue walking back tomorrow. We must have been further out than I thought or talked too long on the shore."
"I think you've just earned yourself another helping of gruel," she muttered. "I know it's not that. I was walking too slowly."
"Just as well," he said with a shrug. "We wouldn't have made it before dark, anyway. At least here, we'll have shelter."
"Shelter?"
He moved to the other side of her and pointed through the trees. "Over there; my brothers and I built a fortress."
"A fortress?" she asked with a slight laugh.
He scooped up his boots and led her in the direction of his second home at Watson Estate. "Well, fortress might be a bit ambitious," he admitted when it came into view. "But, to us boys, that's exactly what it was, a place of refuge."