Nothing to Commend Her

by Jo Barrett

  The woman laughed. “That's all right, my lord. I'd not given quite the number of hints in my writing as Miss Trumwell—I mean, Lady Leighton had in her letters."

  "I'd not done so intentionally, I assure you,” Agatha said.

  "Well, this is rather remarkable,” Magnus said with a grin. “Until recently, I'd never met a lady scientist, and now I stand in the presence of two."

  "There aren't very many of us—yet,” Miss Reynolds replied with a half wink. “But I've intruded on you while you're entertaining. So I really must go."

  "Not at all. The others are preparing to leave today, but whether they remained or not, we wouldn't dream of allowing you to leave,” Magnus said, although he didn't mean it in the least. He wanted to be alone with his wife, but this woman was an obvious kindred spirit, and he wouldn't dream of letting her leave unless that is what Agatha wished. “You and my wife have much to discuss, I'm sure."

  "Well, I don't wish to impose."

  "I insist,” he said. “I'll leave you to get re-acquainted."

  "Thank you, Magnus,” Agatha whispered.

  He chucked her under the chin and disappeared out into the hall to alert the staff of their new guest. Once he'd passed on his instructions, he escaped for a few minutes into his study to regain his composure.

  The look on Agatha's lovely face, the bright glow in her eyes, could he keep her that happy? Or would their marriage dissolve over the years with his determination to not bed her? She was receptive to his touch, but how far would she allow him to go? Did he dare risk the painful crush of his heart if she turned away in revulsion from his scars?

  Crush of my heart?

  Could he possibly be in love with his wife? After Elizabeth he'd dare not hope to ever feel anything other than passing kindness or perhaps lust for a woman again. And he had plenty of lust where his current wife was concerned, but love?

  Everything he knew of her, her mannerisms, her scent, her voice, the way she carried herself, her kindness, her intelligence, all of the tiny details ran rampant through his thoughts, and he knew.

  "Good Lord,” Magnus muttered. “I am in love with her."

  He sighed and rubbed the ache climbing up his chest. Pondering his marital situation at present would do him no good. But his wife's face, the memory of her kiss-swollen lips haunted his thoughts. Even if he could never go to her bed, there were plenty of other pleasures they might share in, if her reactions to his touch were any indication. Yet, he still could not shake the sense that she might be forcing herself to accept them.

  "The lot is arguing with her,” Crittenden said, strolling through the door. “I've no doubt she'll win, but you've been too congenial, and too damn reclusive. They wish to hang about and stick their noses in your life...and mine,” he groused.

  Magnus continued his absent perusal of the grounds outside his window. He had to make up for his selfishness to Agatha in some way and know the truth—all of it.

  "Leighton?"

  He turned, his hands clasped behind his back. “Sorry, just thinking."

  "Something's happened. Is Agatha all right? Has there been another attempt?"

  "No, she is quite well. But she has an unexpected visitor. A friend from America."

  "More guests.” Crittenden let out a weary sigh. “I cannot apologize enough for my mother's and my intrusion on you both. I swear I shall get her to leave. Her and her nosy compatriots."

  He forced a grin. “No need for that. Agatha and her friend will be visiting for a time, I'll wager. Let us see if we can help ease our other guests’ curiosity, then perhaps they'll depart of their own accord."

  He ushered Crittenden into the hall where they both stopped and looked up at the sound of voices. Agatha and Miss Reynolds were coming down the stairs, arm in arm chatting happily.

  "My word,” Crittenden muttered.

  Magnus moved to greet the ladies as they stepped off the last stair. “Miss Reynolds, may I present Lord Crittenden."

  Crittenden took her hand and bowed, his gaze firmly fixed on her face. “A pleasure."

  He could understand his friend's interest, the woman was quite lovely, but he'd best watch his step with his matchmaking mother in the vicinity. Although, Miss Reynolds was an American, and likely wouldn't suit, any interest Crittenden showed in any woman could spell disaster for his plans of remaining a bachelor.

  "It's nice to meet you, my lord,” Miss Reynolds said.

  "Miss Reynolds and Agatha share the same interests in science,” Magnus said offhandedly, noting the odd way the two gazed at one another.

  "Fascinating,” Crittenden muttered.

  "Very,” Miss Reynolds said, an intriguing sparkle in her bright blue eyes.

  "Magnus, dear—oh, I do beg your pardon,” Lady Crittenden said. “I didn't realize you had a guest."

  "That's quite all right,” he said. “Lady Crittenden, may I present Miss Reynolds, recently of America. She is a friend of Lady Leighton's."

  He had to nudge Crittenden to turn his gaze away from the woman, but his mother hadn't missed the gesture.

  "How do you do, Lady Crittenden? It's a pleasure to meet you,” Miss Reynolds said, extending her hand.

  "The pleasure is mine, but, well I know it's rather silly of me, but would you by chance be related to Isaac Reynolds, the industrialist?"

  Miss Reynolds smiled and gave a slight nod. “That would by my father."

  "Really? Well, isn't that a coincidence. I've read quite a bit about him of late.” Lady Crittenden did not bother to hide her sly grin. An American heiress was apparently suitable for her son.

  "So, tell me about America,” she said, sliding her hand around Miss Reynolds’ arm and guiding her into the parlor. “I've always wanted to visit."

  "Oh dear,” Agatha breathed.

  "Quite,” Magnus replied.

  Crittenden, however, stood dumbstruck as his mother strolled away with Miss Reynolds.

  Agatha moved to stand before Crittenden, but the fool paid her no heed.

  "Lord Crittenden,” she said. “George,” she whispered harshly with a tug of his coat.

  "What? Oh, did you say something?"

  She planted her hands on her hips with a sigh and a shake of her head. “As highly as I think of Miss Reynolds, and think the two of you would suit rather well, I will not aide nor will I hinder your mother's matchmaking attempts. But I suggest you wipe that lovesick look off your face before your mother plans your nuptials."

  "Love? Are you daft?"

  With a smirk, she turned and followed the ladies.

  "No, just observant,” Magnus said, taking a stand beside his friend.

  "Good grief,” he moaned. “And my mother—"

  "Witnessed your display, yes,” Magnus said with a laugh, and slapped Crittenden on the back. “Dare I congratulate you now?"

  "That isn't the least bit humorous."

  "Turn-about is fair play, old man."

  "This isn't love. I'm just—"

  "Smitten?” Magnus suggested.

  "No, it can't be. Impossible."

  He laughed at the terrified look on Crittenden's face. “I hate to disagree, but that is exactly how it happened with Agatha.” He knew it now, in retrospect. The first time he'd spied Agatha's wide dark eyes gazing up at him, he'd been lost.

  "But—but—"

  "There are worse fates than matrimony.” He pushed Crittenden into the room with a chuckle.

  Perhaps Bridley Hall would finally become the home he'd always wanted. One full of laughter, family, friends...and love.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Nine

  Agatha knew there was no stopping Lady Crittenden now that she'd met Katherine. It surprised her, however, after the way in which she'd chosen each of his dance partners so carefully at the ball in his honor. Katherine, although an heiress, was an American, after all.

  She shrugged off the mystery and surreptitiously moved about the room to see if she could sniff out the perpetrator,
or rather her scent, since it appeared that the guests would not be leaving, what with their new arrival. It was just as well, she'd made some rather detailed plans for a lawn party the following day, and having never organized anything of the sort, she was curious to see how it would turn out.

  Turning away from a group of ladies, all shooting daggers with their eyes at Katherine, she caught sight of Magnus. He was listening to Lord Barrington expound on his latest purchase of horseflesh. The man looked at Magnus’ scars and stammered a bit before continuing, but Magnus paid it no heed. What a rare man she'd married?

  He noted her gaze and lifted one lone brow, apparently curious if she'd been successful. She shook her head then moved across the room to another gathering. But still no luck. Whoever the murderess was, she'd changed her scent, or was not a member of Lady Crittenden's group, which had been her original summation, but she had to eliminate all the possibilities. Still, the scent seemed familiar in some way, but if not from one of her guests, then where had she encountered it?

  "Do you ride, Miss Reynolds?” Lady Crittenden asked.

  "Yes, I adore it."

  "Wonderful. Then I suggest we all go for a ride this afternoon. What do you think, Agatha?"

  "Hmm? Oh, yes, a ride. That would be nice, but I'm afraid—well, I shall have to remain here. I've so much to do—for tomorrow.” She knew it did no good to lie. She was terrible at it, obviously. She couldn't even lie about her sex in a letter successfully.

  "Would you like for me to remain behind as well?” Lady Crittenden asked.

  "Oh no. Not at all. I want you to enjoy yourself. All of you,” she said, glancing about the small circle of ladies.

  Katherine gave her a curious glance, suspecting something, no doubt. They'd connected remarkably well once they'd stopped laughing. It was almost as if she'd found the sister she never had. She hoped she could stay until Hattie returned from her honeymoon. The three of them would have a grand time.

  Luncheon was announced and they all made their way to the dining room. It was a simple fare, seeing as she'd not expected them to remain, but no one complained, and she did her best to enjoy herself, if one could do that with a murderer on the loose.

  She fussed over her food, responded to comments, but couldn't engage herself, her head filled with too many things. Once they returned to the drawing room after their meal, she claimed some chore and excused herself, if for no other reason than to clear her head of all the perfume, while the ladies discussed where they would like to go on their ride. She didn't miss the odd look from several of them as she escaped, but decided to worry on that later as she made her way to her rooms. If she'd made a fool of herself, or committed some social sin, then so be it. There were more pressing matters that concerned her at the moment, as in how to stay alive.

  Magnus entered her sitting room, a scowl on his face, scant moments after her.

  "You are not to go riding,” he ordered.

  "I had no intention of doing so."

  "Good.” He nodded and clasped his hands behind his back, but his scowl was still firmly in place.

  "Is something wrong?"

  "We have a house full of bloody nosy guests,” he grumbled.

  She grinned at his surly display. “Yes, we do. Dare I ask which of them has put you in a mood?"

  He paced before her, his frown deepening. “Lady Barrington, in rather frank terms, advised me on how I should treat my lady wife."

  "Ah,” she said with a barely suppressed grin. “And what sort of advice did she impart?"

  He paused and looked at her. “How to court you!"

  She swallowed her giggle. “And you find this advice unwarranted."

  "I find it a bloody nuisance. We're already married!"

  "Yes, we are,” she replied, her smile too strong to hold back any longer. “I suspect it has something to do with our rather quick wedding."

  His jaw fell lax, his gaze soft. “I—regret that I did not court you as I should."

  "You didn't wish to feed the ton's gossip,” she said with a slight nod.

  He shook his head and moved closer. “I was more afraid that once you'd seen me in the light of day, you would refuse me. A letter seemed—less of a risk."

  "I would have accepted your offer however it was presented,” she said softly.

  "Agatha,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her sweetly, as if she were made of fine glass.

  There was a firm knock at her door.

  "Bloody hell,” he snarled, lifting his head. “When shall we ever know a moment's peace?"

  With a shaky giggle, she pulled from his embrace and went to the door.

  "Agatha, I—oh, um, sorry,” Katherine said, noting Magnus scowl.

  He let out a heavy breath and muttered something as he passed her, into the hall and disappeared.

  Agatha couldn't contain her smile, he was so wonderfully adorable when he was in a mood.

  "I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean—"

  "No, no. It's quite all right,” Agatha said.

  "Well, I'm not so sure your husband is so forgiving,” she said with a smile. “I only wanted to tell you that I'd managed to excuse myself from the afternoon's ride, due to fatigue from my recent arrival, but now I see that perhaps I shouldn't have."

  Her cheeks overly warm, she motioned her friend inside. “Don't be silly. While the others are out, we can steal away to my laboratory and I can show you my latest work."

  "Are you sure? I'm already intruding on you and your husband as it is, arriving like I did."

  "Nonsense, I wouldn't have it any other way,” she lied. Although she wanted to spend time with Katherine, there were so many other things happening, good and bad, in her life at the same time. And either she or Magnus had to go on the outing, it wouldn't do to leave their guests on their own.

  "I'm so glad. So, tell me about what you've been working on lately,” Katherine said.

  They sat down and talked, looked over Agatha's journal, and made some notes about how to proceed. Not until Tess appeared to announce the others were leaving for their ride, did she realize they'd hidden for some time.

  "And Lord Leighton is joining them, is he not?” Agatha asked, not sure if he would abide by convention.

  "Yes, my lady."

  "I suspect he wasn't too pleased with the prospect."

  "No, my lady."

  "Thank you, Tess."

  Her maid closed the door, and Katherine and Agatha giggled.

  "He really does detest all this fuss, doesn't he?” Katherine asked.

  "He's a private person, I think."

  "You think?"

  "We've not been married long, as you'll recall."

  "He adores you, you know. It's obvious in how he looks at you."

  Agatha blushed. “Well, let's get downstairs and get to work. There's no telling how long they'll be gone. I'd hate to waste a moment."

  "I hope your guests won't be too upset that I monopolized your time,” Katherine said as they descended the stairs.

  "We simply won't tell them.” Not telling was a bit easier than lying, at least for Agatha.

  Katherine laughed and patted her arm. “You're learning, my friend, you're learning."

  "I have one guest, however, I think might miss you more than I,” Agatha said, recalling George's direct and somewhat heated gaze on Katherine during lunch.

  "Whatever do you mean?"

  She laughed and shook her head. “I see I'm not the only one who does not hide the truth well. But don't worry, I shan't say a word about Lord Crittenden."

  "No, I'm not very good at deception in person,” she said with a chuckle. “But he is nice, isn't he?"

  "He is very nice. I think you and Lord Crittenden would get on famously, but he's said rather adamantly, that he does not wish to wed."

  They entered the orangery and she handed Katherine an extra smock.

  "Wed? All I said, was the man was nice. Handsome too, but that's all." />
  "So you did,” Agatha said with a smile, wondering how long her friend's denial would last. She doubted it would survive more than a day or two.

  Hours later, Barstoke, bless him, announced that the other guests were returning from their ride, giving Katherine and Agatha ample time to scurry up the servant stairs to rid themselves of their afternoon endeavors. All the smelly, messy bits before they were found out. The ladies would likely take to their rooms for a bit of a rest at the very least before dinner, so they should have plenty of time, but they dare not get caught. Agatha shuddered to think what sort of gossip would result.

  Once clean and no longer odious, she entered the drawing room where the guests all awaited the call to dine.

  "Agatha, dear, may I speak with you a moment in private?” Lady Crittenden asked.

  "Of course.” They left the room and strolled down the hall to the small parlor where Agatha spent her evenings after her work. She idly wondered if Magnus would join her there after their guests left now that their relationship had changed.

  "You'll find this rather forward of me,” Lady Crittenden said, closing the door behind her. “But I require some information."

  Agatha grinned, suspecting she knew full well where this was heading. “What sort of information?"

  "Well, you see—” She paced to the window, her hands clasped before her, then turned to look at Agatha. “You know how badly I want George to marry."

  "You've made that rather clear, yes.” She took a seat while hiding her grin.

  Lady Crittenden blushed. “It's awful of me, I know. Not only have I dragged all these people into your home, I've practically forced my own son to run from me at the very mention of the word marriage."

  She laughed softly. “You are not unlike my cousin Hattie. She too had me more than ready to bolt on occasion. And you also want what she wanted for me. You want George to be happy. Am I right?"

  The tenseness around Lady Crittenden's mouth and in her shoulders visibly eased. “Exactly. But I'm afraid I've gone about the entire thing all wrong.” She sat beside her on the settee. “I've driven him further from the altar and from me."

  She took her hand. “He cares for you very much."

  "I know he does. He's a good man, and a loving son. I couldn't ask for better, but..."