The last of their guests arrived, and it was now time to join them on the terrace.
He glanced over at his wife's pale face. Briefly, he considered reminding Regina that she had told him she'd be amiable to hosting a breakfast for the fellows he'd be creating the society with. He dismissed this idea very quickly. Now wasn't the time to trifle with her, especially, if he wanted her to realize she'd been given all the proverbial tools she needed to fight the metaphorical dragon who'd come to visit.
Regina removed her hand from his arm and took her place in front of the guests. "I'd like to thank you all for joining us today..."
Edward nearly burst with pride as Regina welcomed everyone to their home and played her role of hostess with flawless confidence. As she should. Every ounce of work she'd poured into this event was obvious. The tables were covered in elegant pale yellow table linens with a vase overflowing with violets positioned in the center of each. White napkins, folded to look like swans, sat on the top of each dark blue plate. The buffet table was filled with a variety of meats, cheeses, fruits, and pastries all arranged to perfection. She'd ordered ivy vines hung along the top of the trellis, covering and spiraling down the posts to where sprays of vibrant pink, orange and blue flowers were planted.
Guilt knotted in his gut. She'd arranged a breakfast that would please a duchess, and he'd made a mockery of her by inviting only two men of any rank at all, one of which didn't want to be there and the other only attended so he could wax about his fascinating discoveries for two hours.
Edward's eyes never left Regina as she flittered here and there to ensure her guests were having a good time, never once stopping long enough for him to talk to her.
"Perhaps now that we've dined, the gentlemen can go to the drawing room to discuss business and the ladies can play their games," Lord Edgewood, who'd never been known for his subtlety, suggested loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Excellent idea," Edward agreed, leading the gentlemen to the drawing room. He'd been the one to create this mess; he needed to see it through, no matter how unpleasant it had the possibility to become.
"Gads, Watson. What happened in here?" Lord Edgewood said as he entered the drawing room.
Edward made a show of looking around at the uniquely decorated room. Lord Edgewood and Mr. Harris were the only ones in attendance who hadn't seen the room before now. "I see nothing out of place."
Lord Edgewood snorted and Mr. Harris' face grew bright red.
Edward ignored them both and waited for all the men to sit down.
"Gentlemen, thank you for coming today. Lady Watson has already welcomed you all to her breakfast, but I'd like to extend another welcome and thank you all for coming to the first official meeting for the Society of Biological Matters. As the founder and official president of the Society of Biological Matters, I'd like to thank you all for your continued support and introduce you to our guest speaker today, Lord Edgewood. Without any further ado, I'll turn the time over to Lord Edgewood who has graciously agreed to speak to us today about the importance and properties of thorns and thistles."
If Mr. Harris' face had been bright red at the sight of this room, it'd likely be termed purple by the time Lord Edgewood's speech was concluded.
Edward regained his feet and thanked Lord Edgewood for sharing his findings and extended him a formal invitation to join the Society.
"I suppose we shall rejoin the ladies now," Mr. Harris said in a tone that was as cool as the impassive look on his face.
"Of course," Edward agreed. If nothing else, at least he'd managed to disrupt Mr. Harris' manipulations for the day; which, though not entirely his intention, was at least one boon of this disaster.
The gentlemen joined the ladies just long enough to gather their things and say their farewells to one another.
Edward leaned against the side of the house while Regina thanked them all for coming and saw them out. She didn't deserve what he'd done, no matter how good his intentions. He should have let her have her breakfast with invitations sent to everyone of his acquaintance who had a rank and let her handle things with her father in her own way and in her own time.
He just hated the way Mr. Harris treated her. He fisted his hands in his pockets. Every time Regina spoke of the man, Edward just wanted to box his ear. The other day, when she'd told him of the loan she'd requested and his suggestion for payment, he almost rode his horse to Mr. Harris' house for that purpose alone. It was only his hope that he'd be able to one day prove to Regina that she was good enough as just Regina Banks to command the honor and respect she deserved, that had kept him from throttling the man.
He blew out a pent up breath. That was no excuse for what he'd done today. He'd acted without thinking of Regina, and that made him no better than Mr. Harris.
The thought made him utterly sick. He pushed off the wall, intent to find her this very minute and beg her to forgive him.
Edward walked past the servants cleaning and entered the house. The only sound in the air was the echoing thuds of the heels of his shoes against the wooden floor as he walked down the hall.
Just as his foot landed on the bottom step of the grand staircase, he heard the words that stilled his blood and captured his full attention: "This was an unacceptable breakfast. I demand you host another."
***
Regina stared at her father. It didn't surprise her at all that he'd demand she host another breakfast. From the moment she realized all the guests were Edward's fellow Society members, she'd foreseen this conversation coming. She just didn't expect it to happen so soon.
"Why was it unacceptable?" Despite the majority of the gentlemen present having a fascination for plants and trees, it wasn't so bad. Even Lady Sinclair seemed to enjoy herself, which was shocking in itself.
"The company was lacking, and the entertainment was worse."
Regina sucked in a sharp breath at his criticism. She'd tried so hard to plan everything, and he still found something to complain about. "I'm sorry you find my company not to be to your liking."
Father picked a small white string from the cuff of his green jacket and dropped it to the floor. "Yes, well, there's not much that can be done about that fact, I'm afraid."
Regina blanched at the cruel intent of his words. She'd deserved it though; she'd set herself up for that insult with her quick tongue. "I'm sorry you didn't enjoy the breakfast more, Father."
His eyes narrowed on her. "You did it intentionally, didn't you?"
"Did what intentionally?"
"Don't play stupid with me," he snapped. "You invited me over here to attend a society meeting with a pack of dullards to defy me for marrying you off to the worst dullard in all of England."
Regina gasped. "How can you say such a thing?" She didn't find Edward to be a dullard; unusual, perhaps, but certainly not a dullard.
"Don't play innocent, Regina. I know it was you who decorated this ghastly room with mismatched furniture, appalling artwork, and, heaven help us all, a stuffed rodent; then invited all of his friends here to see the monstrosity as an act of defiance."
Regina's eyes flew to where her father had gestured to the oak end table. Sure enough, there on the end table was a furry brown rabbit and instantly she was reminded of the one Edward had trapped on their night in the woods. How did that get in here? John, perhaps? She looked over to the awful paintings on the wall. No. It wasn't John. John had left those paintings; he wouldn't have put a stuffed rabbit in here, too. It was too soon. First, Edward would have to do a dastardly deed in retaliation. A slow smile took her lips. What an unusual family she'd married into. But she loved them-all of them-nonetheless.
But it still begged the question of who left a stuffed rabbit in here?
"Regina," Father snapped, the look in his eyes just as fierce as his voice.
"You're right," she said. "I did decorate this drawing room to spite him." No use lying about that.
"You impertinent fool," Father seethed. "Do you not understand that you've destroyed everything I've worked so hard to build for you?"
Anger and hurt stirred inside of her. She was nothing more than a means of social standing to him. That's all she'd ever been. He'd sent her away to learn to be a lady and mix with those of a higher standing. Then, he'd "given" her a Season while Edward was in mourning only to make new acquaintances. There was no other reason for it. He'd already betrothed her to Edward. Why did she need a Season? She didn't need one. Likely, Aunt Florence had only agreed to be her chaperone so she, too, could participate. Perhaps that was why she'd acted more like a debutante than Regina had.