Nothing to Commend Her by Jo Barrett Read Free Book Online

Did she unnerve the man?
    She shook off the silly notion, and quickly deduced that his discomfort rose from the unusual day prior. She knew, as he did, that things had not gone as expected the day—or night—before.
    "Yes, I slept quite well, thank you."
    He nodded then refocused his attentions on his papers. She watched him from beneath her lashes, fascinated by his sudden case of nerves, equally fascinated by their departure. It was as if a curtain had been drawn, closing out the morning sun. Strange that she would prefer his nervousness to steady calm. It made him more human, she supposed.
    "I hate to disturb your reading, but could I speak with you for a moment?” she asked.
    His gaze flicked above the newssheet then returned to the page. “Go on."
    She took a deep breath, settling her irritation to a steady hum at his abject inattention. “I would like to know what my duties are.” Since she obviously wasn't to perform her wifely duties she wanted to know what he did want of her. Why on earth had he married her if he didn't want a wife?
    He set the paper aside, his brow furrowed. “You are Lady Leighton."
    "Um, yes, but what is it I am to do here?"
    He sat back in his seat and scowled at her. “Do as you wish, madam, sew, paint, manage the household, do whatever it is ladies do.” Snapping the paper open, he disappeared behind it.
    She opened her mouth to make a sharp retort, but managed, only just, to retrieve it in time. Infuriating him was not something she wished to do, then again any reaction would've been welcome other than his utter disregard.
    "Once a wallflower, forever a wallflower,” she muttered, then bit her tongue for saying it aloud.
    He lowered his paper. “Is there something else you wish to discuss?"
    "I apologize, my thoughts went wandering. But—” she hesitated, and he paused before lifting the newssheet.
    "I was wondering if—I thought it might be—that is—” A muttered oath slipped from her lips. Why did she feel so terribly tongue-tied around the man?
    He folded his paper and set it aside and looked at her with one lone brow raised. Apparently he hadn't missed her curse.
    Ignoring the heat rising in her cheeks, she sat up straight and returned his regard. “I thought it might be beneficial if you were to show me the estate."
    There she'd voiced the idea, but was almost certain he would say no. After all, the man hadn't come to her bed, had treated her more like an unwanted guest than a wife, so why should he wish to spend any time with her?
    His brows rose, disbelief evident on his face. “You mean you wish for me to escort you on an outing—some sort of—picnic?"
    "Although a picnic would be pleasant, I am mostly interested in the estate itself. The people, the crops, and so forth."
    Magnus sat back and blinked—confusion, hope, and numerous other emotions swirled around his brain. She wished to be in his company, and after his snipe not a few minutes prior, words he wished he could retrieve, but he'd look more the fool for apologizing now.
    "If you'd rather not, I understand,” she said. “Perhaps one of the servants, the head gardener for instance, could show me the grounds. Then you wouldn't be inconvenienced."
    "No, I often ride out after breakfast,” he said absently.
    She looked up from her barely touched food. “Then you wouldn't mind if I joined you?"
    He gave a slight shake of his head. “No, I wouldn't mind."
    Her eyes warmed and she smiled wide and bright, that same smile he'd seen so many weeks ago.
    "Splendid,” she said. “I shall hurry and change.” She left the dining room while Magnus sat stunned. Could he be misinterpreting her feelings toward him?
    He rose with a shake of his head. No, she would not wish for his touch, but perchance they would be able to sustain some sort of companionship after all, which was all he had dared hope for in the beginning.
    Minutes later, she appeared in the hall in a simple riding habit, carrying a small satchel. He