Her Unsuitable Match by Sally Britton

Fifteen

The exceptionally mild weather meant a peaceful journey from London to Kempston. Philippa had entrusted her brother with hiring a private coach to take them all that way, changing out horses as needed to decrease the time spent on the road. Myles knew the route they took well enough that they only stopped at the highest of quality inns along the three-day journey.

Pippa’s maid traveled with them, ostensibly reading a book. Myles had yet to find a proper valet, so the maid was the only servant with them. The hours of time in the carriage were not so awkward as Pippa had thought they might be. Rather than sit in silence, Myles took the time to tell her about his family’s history.

His father was only the second baron of his title, and the barony hadn’t come with much land or income. It had been bestowed on Myles’s grandfather as a small favor rather than a grand gesture of gratitude.

As the fields and woodlands of the countryside drifted by her window, Pippa soaked in all she could about her in-laws.

That small favor had made the first Baron Greenwood, George Greenwood, a lord. Which opened doors for the family and allowed them entry into a world that they didn’t quite belong to. Myles’s parents, Matthew and Elizabeth Cobbett, Lord and Lady Greenwood, hadn’t cared overmuch about titles or London. They were happy to stay in their middling-sized village with their six children, content with the world and all that was in it.

“Tell me about your brothers and sisters,” Philippa said. With three older brothers and an older sister of her own, she had an idea of how a family of such a size would run. Except Myles seemed inordinately fond of his siblings, while she only felt such closeness toward the brother nearest her in age.

“There is George, named after the first baron, and Winston. We called him Winnie, most of our growing up, which he despised. Then my sister Mary. I came fourth. A few years after, my sister Margaret came along. Then finally, Elenor.”

He sketched the layout of the house for her, writing the name of each room within its box. The house was, as he said, small for a member of the nobility. Minor though they were. Growing up, Myles had shared a room with his second-oldest brother, while the eldest had a smaller room of his own. The sisters had shared rooms similarly. Which meant the family had six bedrooms, but never room for visitors without displacing a member of the family.

“With only my youngest sisters and parents at home, I am certain now they have more rooms than they know how to use,” Myles said with a grin.

They arrived in Kempston in the early afternoon, and the carriage rolled to a stop in front of a tall brick-and-timber house—an early eighteenth-century design—shortly after. The sun shone brightly, and the garden in front of the house was well crafted to appear wild and meadow-like, with a white-pebbled walkway from the drive up to the front door.

No sooner had Myles handed Pippa down from the carriage than the door of the house had opened, and several people came spilling out. Many more people than his parents and two sisters.

A stream of children came first, all of them jumping and shouting for “Uncle Myles” to greet them. After the children were three ladies and two gentlemen not old enough to be the baron and baroness. When the lord and lady of the house finally came outside, both of Pippa’s hands had been claimed by little girls in matching yellow gowns.

The children swept Pippa and Myles forward to the door, where a man with gray hair and Myles’s distinct features stood waiting for them. The woman on his arm was considerably shorter than Philippa, with silver-blonde hair mostly tucked up into a white cap.

“Welcome home, Son,” the baron said. “You must introduce us properly to your bride, before she thinks we are all as wild as these children.”

The children giggled and released Pippa so she could curtsy as Myles made all the necessary introductions.

“I didn’t know you already had guests,” Myles said after introducing Pippa to the other adults. His second-eldest brother, Winston the vicar, was visiting with his wife. The eldest sister, Mary, had come with her husband and children, too.

Myles appeared distinctly uncomfortable. Surprising, given how much he had enjoyed telling Pippa about his relatives.

“Visiting family is not at all the same as guests,” Lady Greenwood informed her son with a lofty tone. “Do come inside, Lady Philippa. Let us make you comfortable. I imagine, after that journey, you would prefer a moment of peace before we overwhelm you with our questions and conversations.”

Pippa followed happily. “I hope my bringing a maid will not put you out.”

“Not in the slightest, so long as your maid doesn’t mind sharing an attic room with one of ours.” Lady Greenwood tucked Pippa’s arm in hers as they climbed the stairs from the ground floor to the first floor. “Most of the family sleeps here, of course. The children are upstairs in the nursery, then the attic is for the servants. All except the kitchen staff, who live in the village with their families.”

The baroness started pointing at closed doors as they walked along the corridor. “That is Margaret’s room, and there is Elenor’s. You haven’t met Elenor yet, of course, but she will be home by dinner this evening. And on the opposite side, Winston and his darling Laurel are in that room, with Mary and her Mr. Fountain. Whose name is George, of course, but we all call him Mr. Fountain so as not to confuse him with our George.”

Pippa realized they were running out of bedrooms at almost the same moment Lady Greenwood pointed to one of the last two doors. “The baron and I share this room, just across the hall from where you and Myles will be staying.”

She turned her back to Pippa to push the door open. Likely a fortunate thing, as Pippa’s mouth popped open in protest. She closed it again and looked over her shoulder, hoping to make eye contact with Myles. So he could do something. Myles wasn’t there. Apparently, she alone had been ushered up the stairs, assuming others trailed behind. But what a silly assumption.

“Come in, dear,” Lady Greenwood called from inside. “We will send your maid up at once, so you can make yourself comfortable.”

With hesitant steps, Pippa entered the corner bedroom. Light streamed in from windows on two walls, and a breeze lifted the white curtains in a welcoming way. The room was painted a pale green, the rugs embroidered in blue and ivory. A small hearth on one wall would provide a fire at night, with two cozy chairs on either side of it. Much like her room in Adam’s townhouse. But smaller.

“The dressing room is through here.” Lady Greenwood opened a narrow door that Pippa vaguely noticed, as her entire attention had fallen upon the canopied bed in the center of the room against the wall, between two open windows.

One bed. Smaller than the one she slept in, alone, in the townhouse.

“We did not think you would mind the arrangement, though it is cozy, as you are newlyweds.” Lady Greenwood closed the dressing room door, her back still to Pippa. “Though I daresay, our household is not what one would normally expect of a baron’s estate.”

“It’s lovely,” Pippa burst out, hoping her new mother-in-law wouldn’t notice the way her cheeks burned. “Myles already told me all about his childhood home. He loves it so, and wanted to be certain I would find it familiar. Even though this is my first visit.”

Myles had assured her they would have their own rooms. Or at least, implied that they would. He’d seemed surprised at the additional houseguests. Had he already realized what their situation would be?

It wasn’t as though she could explain to Lady Greenwood the nature of their marriage. Not if Myles had neglected to do so.

“I am glad you both came,” Lady Greenwood said, voice soft, eyes aglow with joy. Completely unaware of Pippa’s inward anxiety. “Myles hasn’t visited in ages. It is good to have him here, and especially wonderful to welcome you into the family.”

“Thank you, Lady Greenwood.” Pippa prepared to curtsy as her mother-in-law took her leave, but the diminutive woman surprised her by enfolding Pippa in her arms instead. The maternal embrace brought a prickle of guilt to Pippa’s heart.

“He is a wonderful man, Lady Philippa. We are so glad you could look past the outside and see him for who he truly is.”

Pippa, released from the embrace, didn’t know what to say to that. So she said the first thing that came into her mind. “Please, Lady Greenwood. Call me Pippa.”

* * *

Myles spentthe afternoon letting the children crawl all over him. He held nieces in his lap, allowed a nephew to ride him from one room into another, and took his sister’s youngest infant in his arms while she herded the rest of her children up to the nursery.

Winston sat with Myles while everyone else in the household disappeared. Their parents went upstairs to dress for the evening meal. Their brother-in-law stepped outside to smoke his pipe. The women would settle their children and then see to their own preparations.

Philippa remained in their room. His mother had informed him they had a delightful conversation before she left his bride to take a nap. “You picked a lovely lady, Myles,” his mother had said, her eyes brimming with tears, before she had left the room.

Mary’s youngest boy was only four months of age and sound asleep in his uncle’s arms. “How is it,” Myles mused, looking down at the tiny eyelashes of the baby, “that we all start so small?”

“It is part of God’s grand design.” Winston crossed one leg over the other. He was a larger man than Myles, with a chest like a barrel, and an infectious grin. “We all begin helpless. We depend on others for comfort, protection, and knowledge. Much as God would have us become as little children, to humble ourselves and trust him to care for us, as children must trust their mortal parents.”

Somehow, Winston could speak of such things without sounding like he stood at a pulpit. He made the sacred sound familiar rather than forced. Something that Myles had always admired about his older brother.

“I suppose having children of one’s own is meant to keep that lesson at the forefront of our minds.” Myles settled comfortably in his place. “How many children do you have? I have lost count. Two dozen, at least.”

“Five,” Winston corrected with a smirk. “And one additional child due before Autumn.”

Myles’s eyebrows lifted. “Congratulations to you and Laurel. More so to her, since she is doing all the work.”

Chuckling, Winston offered a shrug in response. “I am well aware that I do not deserve her. I think that is another part of God’s plan, at least for me. He sent me an angel of a wife so I am forever working to be worthy of her.” The vicar folded his arms over his broad chest and nodded to the baby in Myles’s arms. “You have always been fond of children. I imagine you are hoping it will not be long until you have your own.”

It was the first time anyone had mentioned the expectation of children to him. And he had only briefly spoken to Philippa of his hopes for a family. Myles took care in avoiding his brother’s eyes as he spoke a half truth. “I had forgotten what it is like to have children filling all the nooks and crannies of a house.”

Though he told himself he avoided his family to avoid pity, the matter went deeper than that. Every time he returned to his childhood home, his memories of growing up in a family full of love and hope—and a fair amount of fun—had proven bittersweet. Because he’d never create such a home of his own. Not on his low income. Not as broken as he’d become.

Now, hope tugged painfully at his heart.

He envisioned all too easily how it would be, to sit with his arm around Philippa while they watched children with her dark curls and blue eyes playing on the rug before the hearth, a baby in her arms.

But not yet. Maybe not ever. Philippa had waited all her life for the ability to come and go as she pleased. Having children would complicate that for her. And as much as he longed for his vision to become reality, Myles recognized that her happiness was much more important to him than…well…anything.

Winston’s voice, though pitched low and quiet, pulled Myles away from his musings. “The number of thoughts I’ve seen play across your face in the last five minutes is rather impressive.” His expression had changed, too. From content to curious. “Is there anything you wish to talk about?”

Myles shook his head, aware his smile would reassure no one given how weak it felt upon his face. “Not presently.”

“Hm.” Winston studied Myles for a moment and appeared on the verge of asking another pointed question when Mary came back into the room. She appeared rather out of sorts.

“What are you two still doing in here?” she asked, somewhat accusingly. “Get upstairs and dress for dinner. Family we might be, but we certainly aren’t heathens without manners.”

“That isn’t what heathen means,” Winston corrected with a grin.

Their sister glowered at him. “Do you know what delinquent means? Because your wife will make certain you do, if you aren’t upstairs and dressed in the next quarter of an hour.” She gently took her baby from Myles. “As for you, my littlest brother—”

Myles protested in a whisper as the baby shifted from his arms to hers. “I’m taller than you by a foot!”

“Hush. You know quite well what I mean.” She tucked her sleeping child against her breast. “We are all trying to make a good impression on your Lady Philippa. The least you can do is pretend our mother raised you with good manners.” Affectionately exasperated, she cast them both a superior glance and left the room.

Winston stood the moment she was gone. “As I am well aware how my wife feels about having a delinquent husband, I had better be on my way. I advise you to do the same.” He winked and left Myles alone in the room.

The mantel clock revealed that they had half an hour before dinner. Philippa had been in their room this whole time. Though he couldn’t be certain if she was resting or avoiding his family. Or, perhaps, avoiding him now that their sleeping arrangements were decidedly not what either had expected.

Regardless of her reasons, Myles had no choice but to go up to their shared room. He had to dress for dinner. And he and his wife needed to talk.

By the time he stood before their bedroom door, Myles had a plan in mind. So, he knocked softly and waited for a response. The knock carried through the corridor more loudly than he wished, but Philippa’s maid opened the door a mere second after.

“It’s Mr. Cobbett, my lady,” the girl said, hardly opening the door more than a crack. The little gatekeeper’s stern frown made him smile, which made her frown even more.

Philippa’s clear voice carried through the room to him. “Let him in, please. And you are dismissed for the evening.”

The maid opened the door fully, curtsied to him, then stepped into the hall. She closed the door behind her with a quiet snap, leaving Myles and Philippa in the room alone. And there she stood, his elegant wife, dressed in a gown he had seen her wear once before, when her brother had entertained several minor lords at his dinner table. She had pearls in her ears and around her throat. A spray of white silk roses in her hair, too.

She looked every inch a lady, from her dark curls to the fine blue silk slippers upon her feet.

Myles gulped. It was that, or choke on his attraction to his wife. Her beauty drew him a step closer, but the flash of alarm in her eyes froze him once more. Though she held herself with the confidence of one born in her position, she’d found herself in an unwanted situation.

“We are sharing this room,” she said, bringing her hands up to her stomach to lace her fingers together. “So I take it that your family does not know about the unique arrangement we’ve made.”

Myles released a quiet breath, then pushed his hair back from his forehead. “I haven’t told them more than the most basic information. When we married. Your name. My change of address.” He looked away from her. “I’ll use the dressing room to prepare for dinner, if you prefer. Then we can go down together.”

She nodded but didn’t move from where she stood in the center of the room. Myles walked around the edge of the carpet, feeling her eyes on him the whole time.

“You still don’t have a valet,” she said, before he opened the door to the narrow room that held their clothing and luggage.

“I’ll manage.” He tried to reassure her with a smile. “We both will, I think.” When she gave him a hesitant nod, he went fully inside and shut the door.

A narrow window let in the last rays of spring sunlight, and a lamp flickered in its place on the wall. There was just enough light for him to dress, though the room was stifling and uncomfortably warm.

His head started to pound, so he left while still holding a cravat in one hand. His shirt was open at the neck.

Philippa had settled into one of the chairs near the hearth. A book lay open in her lap. But the way her eyes snapped up to meet his made him doubt she’d actually focused on the book. He held up the cravat, sheepishly. “I need a mirror to tie this torture device around my neck.”

Her eyes fell from his gaze to the open shirt, and his wife’s cheeks turned a dark, rosy shade of pink. “Yes, of course.” She lifted up her book and pointedly stuck her nose inside it.

Myles went to the mirror hanging above the bureau and started wrapping the cloth around his neck. He lay the whole thing on the back of his neck, then pulled it forward. Then back. Around again, then drape it this way and that. Finally, he held it all together with a plain silver stickpin.

“What are we going to do about our sleeping situation?” Philippa had apparently used the time it had taken him to dress to gather her courage enough to ask the question.

Myles looked down at his hands, realizing he’d forgotten to take his dinner gloves out of the dressing room. He flexed his left hand several times. “I have given it some thought. I would prefer to keep my family unaware of our agreement. It would…” How did he explain in a way she would understand? “It would distress them, I think. To know our match was made based on anything other than mutual affection.”

“I understand.” He darted his gaze up when she spoke, immediately noting the softness in her eyes. “I do, Myles. And I don’t mind. I cannot think many mothers would be thrilled with a situation like ours. Especially one as caring as yours.”

“Thank you.” He relaxed somewhat, then nodded to where she sat. “I will sleep in one of the chairs. No one will be the wiser.”

Philippa raised her eyebrows. “One of these chairs?” She stood and pointed in her seat. “Myles. That would be terribly uncomfortable.”

“I’ve slept in worse places,” he admitted, trying to smile through the memory of the hard, damp ground where he’d lain his head during the war. “I will steal a pillow from the bed. A blanket from a linen closet. That amount of comfort will be perfectly acceptable.”

His wife pursed her lips, glancing down at the chair and then up at the bed.

Days in a carriage and uncomfortable beds in old inns hadn’t exactly been easy. He’d looked forward to a downy mattress and warm blankets and pillows stuffed with feathers. But Philippa’s happiness and wellbeing came first.

“I suppose…”

The long case clock in the entry hall chimed the hour, its steady rhythm echoing through the whole house.

“We had better go down, so we aren’t late to dinner. I wouldn’t want your mother to think me rude.” She started across the room, stopping at Myles’s side. “I quite like her.”

“I think she feels the same about you.” Myles extended his arm to her, and she took it with a hopeful smile.

“Really?”

“And if anyone is blamed for our late arrival to dinner, it will be me. Just wait and see.” He led her from the room, and they went down to dinner together without speaking another word on the subject of who would sleep where.

* * *

Philippa wokefrom her slumber with a start. She’d had the most peaceful dream. There was a garden, full of bumblebees and butterflies. She’d been looking for someone. And then she’d heard Myles calling for her.

Awake, she heard him moaning. Speaking unintelligibly.

Blinking in the darkness of an unfamiliar room, Pippa listened carefully a moment. Then she realized Myles mustn’t be awake. He was dreaming. And given the sound of things, they were not pleasant dreams.

He was having a nightmare.

She threw the covers off and put her bare feet on the cold floor, then stumbled blindly toward him in the dark.

They had exchanged enough covert looks after dinner for Pippa and Myles to understand one another. She had gone up to bed before him, ringing for her maid to help her undress. Then she’d slid into bed and left a lamp for him to take into the dressing room for himself. He’d stayed downstairs long enough with his brothers that she’d almost fallen asleep, lulled easily to rest in the comfortable bed. But she’d woken when he’d entered the room, her whole being aware of his movements up until the moment he’d settled in the chair to sleep.

She hadn’t spoken to him. He’d assumed she slept. That seemed easier.

Pippa stubbed her toe at the foot of the bed and yelped, then covered her mouth. Except that was foolish. She needed to wake Myles, given the amount of distress in his voice.

The banked embers glowed just enough for her to reveal her husband’s profile as she grew closer. His head was tilted back. His chest moved up and down rapidly, matching the sound of his ragged breathing. Pippa hurried to his side.

How did she wake a grown man from a nightmare?

She touched his left hand where it rested, draped over the arm of the chair. And she whispered his name. “Myles? Myles, you are dreaming. Wake up, Myles.”

He shifted. Then gasped as he leaned forward abruptly, and his hand came up to snatch at her arm. He gulped in air, and Pippa hurried to kneel before him. She put both hands upon his knees, peering through the semi-darkness at his face.

“I am here, Myles. You are safe. We are at Ambleside.” She repeated the information to him again, then dared to reach up and lay the palm of her right hand against his scarred cheek.

“Pippa?” he spoke her nickname in a hoarse voice. His hand covered hers upon his cheek. Had her heart not already been pounding with worry, she might’ve noticed that it skipped when he called her that.

“Yes, Myles. I’m here.” She brushed her thumb across his cheek, the feel of his rough skin and stubble reassuring her. “You had a nightmare.”

He shuddered. When he spoke again, he sounded more himself. His voice warm and gentle. “I woke you.”

“I am glad you did.”

He abruptly stood, pulling her to her feet. “You will catch cold, kneeling on the floor in nothing but a nightdress.”

She shivered, and he gathered her closer. “I am perfectly fine. You are the one having a terrible dream. Let me worry over you a moment, before you try to rescue me from a cold floor.”

He gently squeezed her hand. “Thank you for worrying. But now, back to bed. I will be well enough. It was only a dream. And a mild one at that.”

“Mild?” she repeated, aghast. He guided her back to her bed.

“I am well. You should rest.”

But she didn’t let him hand her up into the bed. Philippa kept hold of him instead. “You cannot be serious.” Then she shivered again and reached for his other hand, realizing how cold his skin felt to her touch. “Myles, you are the one who will catch cold. With the fire banked, this room is freezing.”

“I have a blanket—”

“Your fingers are like ice.”

“I am perfectly—”

“Get in the bed.”

Perhaps her lack of patience caused Pippa to speak those words without thinking how they would sound. But once she said them aloud, compassion wouldn’t let her take them back. Myles had woken from a nightmare. He was cold. The bed was warm and comfortable.

And large enough for two.

“Philippa, I cannot possibly impose on you in that way.” His voice lacked any conviction, though. He sounded completely unsure of himself.

“You sleep on one side, I will take the other. We are married, after all. And you are still wearing trousers, I noticed.”

In the darkness, he cleared his throat. Shifted from foot to foot. “It didn’t seem advisable to be half naked in the chair. And…well. We might be married, but we certainly haven’t agreed to—” His words became strangled.

“Myles.” She closed her eyes tightly, searching for words in the corners of her mind. “It is very late. You are cold. We are married. And…and I trust you.” Stunned silence answered her words. “You have always been protective and respectful of my wishes. A gentleman. And we both need our sleep, so you can enjoy your family tomorrow. Please. We will pretend that it doesn’t matter. And sleep in the same bed.”

Except it did matter. She had never shared a bed with another person in her life. Not even her own sister. And to sleep next to a man? Wearing nothing but her nightgown? Positively indecent. She’d never been so vulnerable.

As she shifted over to the cooler, previously empty side of the bed, and he settled into the warm spot she had left to come to his aid, Pippa knew sharing the bed mattered a great deal.

She closed her mind to pondering on the why, and instead she rolled to keep her back to her husband. She closed her eyes and curled herself into a ball. As far from him as she could.

“Good night, Philippa.”

She smiled to herself. “You know you can call me Pippa, Myles.”

A beat of silence, and then, “You do not mind?”

She smiled to herself in the darkness and tried unsuccessfully to ignore the way her heart skipped. “Not at all.”

“Then good night, Pippa.” When he spoke her name, the one reserved for those she loved, it wrapped around her like a gentle embrace.

“Good night, Myles.”

Despite their situation, and how unfamiliar sharing her blankets ought to feel, Pippa didn’t remain awake long. She slipped into a lovely, deep sleep. Her dream self went back to the garden. And this time, she found precisely who she searched for.