Nothing to Commend Her Read Online Free PDF Page B

They were wed before God and man, and nothing could change that. He sighed and turned his attention out the window, unable to bear the look of despondence upon her lovely face.
    Lovely, he thought with a silent sniff. Crittenden had thought him balmy marrying again. He'd not ventured so far as to say she was unattractive, but she was nothing like the beauties the season had to offer, which was the very reason she intrigued him. That and her spirit.
    He cast her a glance and recalled how she looked without her spectacles, her temper high. A sight, he surmised, very few ever witnessed. Her eyes were her loveliest feature. They pulled him in, held him in their dark depths. But when he'd seen his reflection in her spectacles as the service ended, he regretted his actions. How dare he be so impudent to think he could gain her favor? He was The Monster .
    The carriage lurched to a halt. He stepped out and extended his hand to her. She took it and allowed him to assist her down. He noted that her trembling did not return with his touch, and held on to his first hope, although he knew it nothing more than desperation.
    He released her hand and bade her precede him into the house. His staff stood along the walls of the hall as they entered.
    "May I present my lady wife,” he said, his voice calm and in control, although his gut clenched.
    After a few minor introductions, the guests arrived and the wedding breakfast commenced. He prayed it would not drag on too long. He had business to tend to, and his new wife undoubtedly would like to retire from her ordeal. Remove herself from his presence as quick as may be.
    No sooner did he have the thought, did she lean toward him at the table.
    "Would it be too much to ask that we take our leave soon?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper.
    Magnus clenched his jaw against her scent filling his nostrils. Like a wolf scenting its mate. What had possessed him to think he could live in the same house as she and not want to take her to his bed? He'd never intended to, knowing full well the rejection he would receive. He'd only wished for a companion, one who'd not flinch at the sight of him. A pleasing face he could look upon from across the table, someone of some intelligence that he could converse with. He held no hopes for an heir or family.
    "If we do, it will cause a bit of a commotion, I'm afraid,” he replied.
    "Yes, of course you're right,” she said with a sigh.
    He looked at her, noting the deep crease in her forehead. “Are you not well? Is that why you wish to leave?"
    She turned and opened her mouth, then clicked it closed. “No, I'm fine,” she said, looking back to their guests seated at the table, as she adjusted her spectacles. “I'm just not comfortable with being on display."
    "It will be over soon,” he said, taking her hand beneath the table. He didn't know what possessed him to do such a thing, as she sucked in a breath at the contact.
    With a resigned sigh, he removed his hand and returned it to his thigh where he dug his fingers into his flesh. To be wed to her, and not be able to touch her. To want her, and not be able to bed her. He had surely lost his mind. He should've left well enough alone, lived alone, and never sought another's comfort, it was an effort in futility.
    "You know, Agatha,” a friend of Agatha's cousin said, drawing his attention. “I never thought you'd be so lucky.” A flash of pride shot through him, only to die at the lady's next words. “I mean, at your age, I'm sure you'd given up all hope of a good match. And now here you are, wed to an Earl. Why it's practically a miracle,” she said with a twittering laugh.
    Ah, yes. Money and a title. That was the good match , not the man himself. But once Magnus got past his own self-centered thoughts, he realized that the woman had just insulted his new bride.
    His hands balled into fists against his legs as he clenched his teeth together, holding back his temper. He'd hoped to avoid such