"When your parents were quarreling?" She followed him to the little shelter built of rope and boards strategically placed around a knot of trees and berry bushes.
Edward stepped aside to let her go in first. "Exactly. It was either here or the conservatory."
"But you like the conservatory," she murmured, taking in her surroundings. It wasn't much larger than the boat they'd been in earlier, and it was possible to see out through the breaks in the bushes. But for a brood of young boys to have built this, it was quite good.
"I like the conservatory now," he said, coming to sit beside her. "But until Timothy died, I liked being out here better."
"Who is Timothy?" she asked, to distract herself from Edward's closeness.
"One of my other brothers." The sadness in his voice unmistakable.
"Oh, Edward, I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."
"It's all right." He turned away from Regina and started digging through a pile of debris on the other side of him. "As you might guess by our age difference, John is the youngest," Edward said, his voice unusually serious, quiet. "Timothy was two years older than John and died six months after Mother. He had a high fever that I tried to control by growing certain plants I'd heard had properties to reduce fevers. A year older than him was Simon. He died three years ago when he was bucked off a horse he was riding and broke his neck."
Regina's heart clenched for her husband. Other than her mother's death when she was too young to understand it, she hadn't lost anyone she loved. Edward had lost so many. She didn't know why he was telling her this, but she was glad he was. She'd wanted to know about his family but had been fearful to ask.
"I have two other brothers," he continued. Though she couldn't see his face for confirmation, the tone of his voice told her enough; the subject of family, particularly his brothers, was painful for him. "Jarred and Thomas. Both left a month before Father died to go to America and fight against the rebellion. I sent word to their commanding officer about Father's death but never heard anything back."
The unspoken possibility that they, too, might be dead, hung in the air between them.
"I'll be right back," he said, crawling out of the shelter and leaving her behind.
Alone, she kicked her slippers off and reached down to rub her aching feet. She flinched at her own touch. Unless there was a miracle performed tonight, she'd never be able to walk back to Watson Estate tomorrow.
A few minutes later, Edward came back into view, carrying two thick logs under each arm. He placed the first one down so it was standing straight up on top of a short stump then took the axe he'd left with and brought it down, splitting the log. Systematically, he did the same with the other logs, never once stopping in his work.
When he was done, he set down his axe and wiped the sheen of sweat from his brow with his forearm. His breathing heavier than normal, but not labored, he bent down and pushed a small pile of dead leaves and twigs together. Satisfied, he retrieved a little block of flint and a knife from the log near where he'd laid his axe. Holding the bar of flint next to the little pile, he scratched the knife against the flint, creating a spark with each scratch.
A spark hit his pile of kindling and caught. He dropped his knife and leaned lower, blowing on the little embers until they became a small, but strong flame.
A surge of pride for her husband shot through Regina as he moved other twigs closer to the flame to give the fire more strength. He then reached over, grabbed three pieces of cut wood, and built a triangular pyramid around the fire.
He watched it for a minute, presumably to make sure his logs would catch, then stood and dusted off his breeches. He bent down and picked up the knife and flint and put them back on the log, exchanging them for a small coil of rope.
No wonder he enjoyed being out here so much. It suited him.
"Regina," he called, bracing his hand on a tree and coming to stand on a fallen log. He reached up as high as he could reach and tied one end of the rope in his hand around a branch where it met the tree trunk.
She climbed out of the shelter. "Yes?"
He jumped off the log he'd been on and walked over to stand on a nearby rock. He climbed onto the rock and started to tie the other end of the rope around another branch. "Is your gown still wet?"
She frowned at him. "You know that it is. It's made of enough fabric to re-cover all the furniture presently in the drawing room at Watson Townhouse." That wouldn't be true in a few days though when all the new furniture would be delivered. She just prayed-
"I know," he said with a grunt. "I just wanted to make sure you were out here where I could see you."
"What does that matter?" Heat crept up her face before he could even put words to the thoughts they must both be sharing: he was about to suggest she remove her gown and hang it over the line to dry. "Don't even say it," she warned with a laugh.
He jumped down off the rock, grinning. "I didn't even have to; you've already given me the reaction I wanted." He placed his hands on either side of her flaming face and brushed his thumbs across her cheeks. "I know better than to expect that particular suggestion to be met with desirable results. I actually thought to invite you to sit by the fire while I go check the traps I set earlier."
"Oh." She wouldn't have been more surprised by his words if he had asked her to remove her gown.
He helped her find a comfortable seat on a fallen log, then walked over to the rope he'd hung, and, in one swift motion, pulled his shirt over his head then tossed it over the line. "I'll be back in about ten minutes."
Regina spread her skirt out the best she could. Between all the yards of red fabric that made up the exterior of the skirt and the layers of petticoats underneath, it would take a week to dry if she continued to wear it. But, taking her gown off in front of Edward wasn't a possibility. He'd think she was a trollop!
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the tree behind her. The fire felt good on her stockinged feet, warming them. The weather was warm enough so she wouldn't catch the ague, but it was still hard to be comfortable in her damp gown. No sense dwelling on it, she told herself as she extended her hands toward the fire.
A twig snapped behind her, startling her.
"It's just me," Edward murmured. In his hand, he carried a small brown cloth sack. "I caught dinner."
"Already?"
He sat down on the long log across the fire from her. Even with the sun almost faded from the sky and only the low glow of the fire, she could see every contour of his broad chest. She tore her gaze away.
"Do you like rabbit?"
Regina gulped. "In stew."
He started to open the bag he'd set down in front of him. "How about-Are you all right? You look like you're about to swoon."
"Is there a rabbit in there?" She expected him to make a jest by peering into the bag then telling her he believed so. But he surprised her when he moved the bag out of her sight.
"How about if I see if I can catch a few fish?"
"I'm sorry. I just don't think I can eat that." Let alone watch him skin and cook it.
He stood. "There's no need to apologize. I should have given that more thought before I acted." He stepped over the log he'd been sitting on and went into the shelter, returning with a little box. Wordlessly, he sat down and opened the box. By the light of the fire, he found what he was looking for. "I'll be back in a few minutes." He glanced up at the moon that was now showering them with light and then walked down to the creek.
Regina leaned her head against the tree again. She was such a ninny. Now Edward would never want to take her on another adventure. At least, he hadn't voiced his irritation with her as Father would have done. How different the two of them were. Father hated it when she attempted to jest. Edward didn't seem to mind. In fact, he encouraged it. Everything Father said or did was to charm his way into circles in which he wasn't wanted. Edward didn't give a hang what the ton thought of him. While he didn't neglect his duties as baron, he didn't neglect his family in favor of them, either.
Her chest constricted. That was the biggest difference between the two. The difference that drew her to Edward and made her love him all the more: his sense of family duty included multiple trips to Eton to salvage his young brother's reputation and education; it also included taking his five younger brothers on an overnight adventure in the woods to get them away from their parents' arguing. And then, there was his friendship with Lord Sinclair.