The Hired Wife Read Online Free

the room with the tray.

    …

    Marshall turned
back around to find his study as empty as his heart. Gulping down
frustrated tears he battled the old torments back into their cages.
Life wasn’t faire, but it might have been worse. Just because he
didn’t have a laughing wife in his arms who looked up at him with
adoration didn’t mean he was unloved. His father, mother and step
mother had loved him. His two young sisters loved him, but he was a
man he wanted more. He wanted a loving helpmeet. He hoped the short
interlude with a hired wife would help him understand women. There
had to be one woman in England who could see that he was at heart
good and kind. It wasn’t his fault people didn’t make any sense. He
couldn’t even ask for a small change to his usual breakfast without
ending up in a brawl with the cook and footman. He slumped into his
chair and was about to shout for his wife to return when she
stepped into the room and resumed her seat.

    “Where have you
been?”

    Mary didn’t
bother to reply until he’d sat down beside her.
    “I took my tray
to the kitchen and thanked Cook. The eggs were perfect.”

    “Ladies do not
thank their cook for poaching an egg.”

    “Perhaps if
they did, their households would run more smoothly. If I think
something good I try to share it.”

    “And if you
think something bad?”

    “I keep it to
myself.”

    “How quaint;
you needn’t put on an angel act for my benefit Merry Dunne. Fulfil
the position’s requirements and I’ll keep you on, fall short and
I’ll sack you.”

    Mary stared
into angry hurt eyes only three inches from her own and forced
herself to silently swallow her own bruised feelings; she was a
servant paid to do a job. Lowering her eyes, she stared at his blue
waistcoat. “How may I serve you?”

    Marshall looked
at Mary from the corner of his eyes. An uneasy sensation in his
stomach told him he’d hurt her. He pulled a thin book out of his
pocket and found the page he wanted. “Read to me.”

    She rested the book against his shoulder and started reading.
“ She walks in beauty like the night of
cloudless climes and starry skies …”

    “You call that
reading? Start over and don’t run all the words together.”

    “I’ve never
read Byron before.”

    “Give it
here!
    She walks in beauty, like the
night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow’d to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair’d the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent! ”

    “You read that
beautifully.”

    “So your
husband’s done something good has he?” The words were heavy with
sarcasm.

    “I’m sure you
do many good things Marshall.”

    “But you still
think me a cruel heartless bastard. I’m not blind woman; I saw the
way you looked at me.”

    “I’m your
servant; my feelings are insignificant.”

    Strong fingers
took hold of her chin and gently tipped back her head, forcing her
to look into angry sapphires. “Until I annul our marriage, you are
Lady Raynham.” The words were a booming hiss. “You’ll tell me if
you’re unhappy with me and explain why. I won’t have my peace cut
up by a morose female moping at my shoulder thinking ill thoughts
of me from dusk to dawn…well? Why did you give me that look?”

    “I was being
honest and you sneered at me. If your intention was to make me feel
uncomfortable then you succeeded. If you don’t think I’ll be
adequate then have pity and annul my employment before I start
deluding myself that I have a year of