Her Unsuitable Match by Sally Britton
Twenty-One
While some might say Philippa paced in the rose garden, she much preferred to describe her aimless wandering as a pleasant exercise. Even if she moved too sedately to gain any healthful benefits. And despite being so lost in her own thoughts, she did not notice the roses finally in bloom.
In her hands she held two letters. The Greenwood butler had delivered them to her while she read a book in the sitting room. One was addressed to her husband, sealed with the Earl of Inglewood’s crest. She debated opening it, as her natural curiosity wanted to know what sort of impression they had made on a man known for his political work. A man of stone, they had called him in the papers.
The other letter she had opened. Mr. Young had written to lay out his terms for a most exciting proposition she had given him the day before.
If only Myles would return. She wanted him to read Mr. Young’s letter. She needed him to approve her idea before she sent on her proposal to Adam and Elaine. But since he had disappeared a week before, without word to anyone of when he might return or how they could contact him, she had to exercise patience.
Which wasn’t a simple matter when she was fairly bursting to discuss her ideas with someone who understood them. Someone who had invested more energy and thought in that particular topic than she had.
Philippa held up the expensive, well-folded ivory paper with the earl’s seal. She studied the fine hand with which he’d written Myles’s name. Then she sighed and tucked it into the band of her gown. “I will wait for you, Myles,” she murmured to a nodding pink bloom. Then bent to inhale its sweet fragrance.
She missed him.
Pippa took up the basket and garden shears she had brought outside with her. Lady Greenwood planned to send a single bloom to her friends, along with an invitation to take tea in the garden the following week. In need of a distraction, Pippa had volunteered to clip the flowers herself.
Myles’s family treated her well. Better than her own mother and eldest brother. They felt as much like family to her as Adam and Elaine. Each day she spent with them taught her more about the man she married, whether they shared stories with her about Myles’s childhood or Lady Greenwood performed some kindness for another member of the family. They were thoughtful of one another, yet that did not lessen their ability to tease or laugh.
Lord Greenwood had proven an exceptional conversationalist, and she found his dry humor a match for his son’s. He treated her with respect, and a fatherly manner she could not recall her own father showing toward her. She quite adored him.
With another snip of the shears, Pippa laid the pink blossom in her basket. She walked from bush to bush, mindful of the thorns each time she took hold of a flower. A dozen perfect blooms. That’s what she needed to fulfill her mother-in-law’s request.
Snip.
When would Myles return?
Snip.
Why had he left without speaking to her?
Snip.
Though they had argued, and she had said all the wrong things, never did she think he would disappear without taking his leave.
Snip.
Then she sniffled. Her eyes burned with tears, though she refused to so much as acknowledge them. Tears. How silly. Myles would return. And when he did, he would tell her where he had gone.
Snip.
And she would tell him…what? How she spent her days waiting for him? Rising every time she thought a horse or carriage approached, looking out the window? She had hoped for his return every day.
Snip.
But he might not even be halfway finished with his journey. Errand. Whatever it was he had undertaken to accomplish without telling her.
Snip.
It bothered her less that he had left than that she did not know when to expect his return. Left in a state of constant anticipation, her heart and mind had run away with her. She dreamed about Myles. She woke missing his presence at her side. She struggled to sleep at night without him near.
Snip.
The tears dared fall at last, but she dashed them away too quickly for them to leave a trail upon her cheeks. When Myles returned, she wouldn’t cry. Even if her heart constricted every time she went to bed alone. And warmed when she thought on his smile, or the touch of his hand upon her skin.
Snip.
She wouldn’t cry. She would wait patiently for him to tell her where he went. Then, she would calmly tell him how concerned she felt for his welfare. How he ought to be more sensible when he left and tell at least one person where he intended to go and when he planned to return.
Snip.
She sneezed. Then grumbled and went searching for her handkerchief where she had tucked it in her bodice. Crying nearly always made her nose swell and itch. She sneezed again as she put the scrap of lace and linen to her nose.
“God bless you, Pippa.”
A ripple of excitement went through Pippa’s body, followed by a wave of blissful relief. She whirled around fast enough that the basket on her arm swung precariously.
“Myles.” She gripped the shears tighter.
Dust covered his clothes. He held his hat in both hands, exposing his hair sticking up this way and that, like a thicket of neglected shrubbery. And he hadn’t shaved in a few days, given the dark shadow along his cheeks and jaw. He looked a complete mess. Yet she wanted to throw herself into his arms—an urge she had never before experienced.
Because she loved him.
Her heart happily confirmed this sudden knowledge, skipping in her chest like a child in a meadow. She caught her breath. Then expelled it in a single, strangled question. “Where have you been?”
* * *
When Myles had walkedthrough the front door of his childhood home, he’d met Elenor in the hall. She had looked him up and down before exclaiming, “You look absolutely terrible.”
Margaret had peeked through the open doorway of the front sitting room. “What was that? Oh! Myles, you’re home. Pippa will be so relieved. She’s in the rose garden.”
Pippa didn’t look relieved. Her blue eyes had darkened with what could only be anger, her eyebrows drawn together, her whole body trembling as she looked at him.
“Where have I been?” he repeated her question, shifting his weight from one foot to another. When her eyes narrowed, he adjusted his stance to the same military-posture he would use when addressing a commanding officer. “I had an important errand, Pippa.”
He noticed when the hand gripping the gardening shears tightened, and Myles wondered how well his wife might wield such a weapon.
“An errand,” she said, voice bland. “You left, without a word, for an errand? What could be so important that you would leave before I woke? Before telling me when you planned to return? Myles—no one knew where you had gone.” She went to the table and dropped the basket on it, scattering a few roses from within. She leaned forward, steadying herself with both hands on the table’s surface. “I was so worried,” she whispered. “And you look ghastly.”
That caused a prick of hurt before he realized she meant the dust coating him from heel to head. Maybe he ought to have cleaned up first. But when he’d learned where Pippa was, he had needed to find her at once.
“I am here, and unharmed. I did not think my absence would cause such concern.” And now that he realized it had, guilt lodged itself in his gut. “I wanted—that is, I needed to prove something to you. I didn’t know how else to do it.”
Pippa turned to face him, now leaning back against the table. “What in heaven did you feel you needed to prove?” She gripped the edge of the table. The familiar scent of his mother’s roses kept him steady, soothing him and keeping his mind and heart calm.
Had she forgotten their argument the night before he left? Doubtful. Myles approached slowly until he stood directly in front of her, only an arm’s length from touch. He turned his hat round and round in his hands, then tossed it to the table. Her gaze never wavered from studying his face.
He really ought to have washed. Or at least shaved. He already wasn’t much to look at. Perhaps that was the place to begin. “I know my scarring is unsightly. Especially when it comes to moving about in London Society.”
She blinked at him.
“And my difficulty with nightmares, my unsteady nerves, are inconvenient at best, but more often they are…well.” She didn’t say anything, but a softness stole across her features. “It is frightening, at times. Not knowing when an episode like the one in Town will occur.”
“I cannot imagine what you have been through, Myles.” Pippa’s shoulders relaxed, and her body swayed slightly toward him before she settled more firmly on her heels. “Because I could not understand, I said all the wrong things before.” Her cheeks turned a shade of pink that made his heart flip backward. “Will you forgive me?”
“There is nothing to forgive.” He shook his head and nearly reached for her. He had to clench his hand at his side to remind himself not to touch her—if he touched her, he would immediately forget everything he meant to say. “I am broken, Pippa. My body is scarred, but so are my mind and my heart. I am not a whole man—I never will be. The war took too much of me. But if you will have me, broken as I am, I swear I will spend the rest of my days working to be worthy of you. Because I love you.”
Pippa moved with unpredictable speed. One moment she stood before him, trembling, and the next she had wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his road-dusted cravat. She held him tightly, as though afraid he would slip away again.
Carefully, he put his arms around her. His surprise grew to elation. Myles bent his head to lay his cheek upon the soft curls of dark brown hair. Her honey-sweet scent mingled with the roses around them, creating an entirely new memory he predicted would offer him comfort for years to come. And when she at last tilted her head back enough to look at him, Myles didn’t bother to wipe the tears from his good eye.
“I love you, Myles. And I intended to say it first.” She smiled and put her palm against his cheek. “And if you are broken, so am I. You were raised in a home of such love and acceptance. My father’s house was the opposite. You must help me learn to be as you are. Compassionate, honorable, and selfless.” She studied him, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “If we are both broken, perhaps we can help one another to fill in the missing pieces. And be whole again someday.”
Myles rested his forehead against hers and closed his eye. “I’m not sure when, or if, that will happen for me, Pippa.”
She ran her thumb gently across his lips, and a shudder went through his body. “If it takes our whole lives to heal, my love, I don’t mind. So long as I am with you.”
At last, Myles kissed his bride. He couldn’t keep himself from it another moment. Not when she tipped her head back with that inviting warmth in her gaze and the gentle way her lips parted. She kissed him, too. Quite thoroughly. Her hands went up his shoulders, then her fingers found their way to the back of his neck where they entangled themselves in his hair. His hands had a mind of their own, too. Though he began with holding her shoulders, they found the dip of her waist and pulled her closer.
One kiss wasn’t enough. They needed more. And they forgot about everything for a time. Myles was far too busy exploring his wife’s lips, sharing each breath and kiss with her, to remember that the upstairs sitting room faced the garden. Nor did he know, until later, that much of his family watched the display between the two of them with great satisfaction.
He only cared about that moment. About holding Pippa against his heart and feeling hers beating as hard and fast as his own.
When at last they rested, Pippa still in the circle of his arms, Myles relaxed his stance and tipped his head to one side. Studying her flushed cheeks and swollen lips with an awed pride he couldn’t explain, he realized he still hadn’t told her where he’d gone.
“I retrieved Bunny for you,” he murmured, his words barely louder than the bees visiting his mother’s roses. “That was my errand.”
Pippa put her hands on his forearms and pushed back, her eyes widening to twice their normal size. “You brought Bunny here? And Richard let you?”
“He wasn’t keen on the idea, actually. But your old friend, Mr. Rigby, made certain I did not leave empty handed.”
“That wonderful butler.” Pippa released his hand. “May I see her? Right now?” Pippa asked, bouncing on her toes. She didn’t wait for an answer. She took Myles’s hand and led him toward the stables while he laughed at her excitement. Then she stopped abruptly and went back to pick up her shears. “I promised your mother—”
He snatched them up first. “How many more does she need?” He’d helped her clip her roses for her annual teas more than once.
“A dozen, she said. I have…” Pippa counted up the stems quickly. “Eleven.”
Myles snipped a pink rose, then a red. He placed the pink in her basket and held the red out to her. “For you, my lady.”
Pippa twirled the rose between her fingers, staring up at him with open admiration. “I love you, Myles.”
“And I you, Pippa.” Together, they walked hand-in-hand to the stables where Pippa greeted her horse the way others would a favorite pet. “Sweet Bunny. Oh, my darling, I missed you so.”
And all was right, at last.
* * *
Pippa didn’t rememberMyles’s letter until she changed for dinner. It fell out of her dress, along with her own. “Botheration.” She laid them on her dressing table, determined to give them to him that evening. Which meant waiting a few more hours, as his family had missed him, and everyone insisted he recount his adventurous horse-retrieval to them.
Watching her husband with his family, Pippa felt quite content. Apparently, spending days in the saddle agreed with him. When he told her how much he loved the country, though he avoided visiting his family so they would not feel the need to look after him, Pippa hadn’t realized what that truly meant. Here, surrounded by the familiar, Myles was at ease. He appeared more relaxed than she had ever seen him—so much so, she could almost forget he had once been a soldier.
After dinner, when the men rejoined the women for the evening, Pippa waited for her husband to sit next to her near the fire. He took his place happily, one arm stretched along the back of the couch along her shoulders. “My love.” He kissed her temple, right there where anyone might see.
“Myles.” She studied his profile, wondering at her luck at finding such a handsome man to be her husband. Eyepatch or no eyepatch, Myles had too many attractive qualities to go unnoticed. “I have letters you must read. They are in our room. One is from the Earl of Inglewood. The other…is difficult to explain. Would you come upstairs with me, so we may speak in private?”
“Of course. I think—that is, I hope I know why Lord Inglewood wrote. We spoke at length about the soldiers’ hospital.” He stood and held his hand out to her, assisting Pippa to her feet. Then he turned to his family to see all eyes upon them. Pippa’s cheeks went hot.
“If you will excuse us,” Pippa said, giving Myles’s hand a squeeze. “I have remembered an important letter for Myles.”
“By all means,” Lord Greenwood said, his affable smile in place. “I am certain you are both tired from a long day of excitement. We won’t expect to see you again until tomorrow.”
“Not at breakfast, I’d wager,” Winston whispered to his wife, barely loud enough for Pippa to hear him and wonder at his meaning. Myles’s glare toward his older brother made the implication clearer to her.
Blushing, Pippa tugged her husband out of the room behind her as quickly as she could go. Did the whole room think—? But then, they didn’t all know about their marriage. Only Lady Greenwood, and perhaps Lord Greenwood, knew. Still. A husband and wife retiring to bed together shouldn’t raise quite so many eyebrows. Should it?
When they entered their shared bedroom, Pippa couldn’t bring herself to look at Myles. Instead, she rushed to the table where she had left the letters. “Here they are.” She turned, and her stomach jumped when she realized Myles stood close. So close she hardly needed to extend her hand to give him both his sealed note from the Earl of Inglewood and her open letter from Mr. Young.
Myles stripped off his gloves and tossed them to the dressing table before taking the papers from her. He went to the hearth to read by the light of a lamp resting on its mantel. Pippa had to turn away to compose herself.
Slowly, she removed her gloves. Undoing the buttons at the wrist, then sliding the silken cloth down first one hand and the other. She focused all her attention there, and on her breathing. In and out. Perfectly calm. Composed.
She laid both gloves on the table, next to the shorter, wider pair of men’s gloves Myles had tossed amid her hairbrush and combs without a thought, as though they had freely mingled their personal belongings always. She let her hand linger on the table’s surface, then touched his glove. The left one, with the two smallest fingers missing. In Town, he had always worn a stuffed glove. She hadn’t even paused to think on it—but here, in his family’s home, he didn’t bother with the pretense.
Who made his gloves? Had they offered him a glove without fingers, or had he requested it?
Myles broke into her thoughts with a cheery laugh. “Lord Inglewood and Sir Isaac wish to take an active role in the building of our hospital. The earl is offering funds—the largest sum of any patron yet. And Sir Isaac has included a list of political associates to approach. Some of these men are not yet on your brother’s lists. This is marvelous.”
He looked up at her, his good eye bright with hope. “I hoped the earl might provide introductions, I never thought he would offer so much of his fortune to our cause.”
Pippa didn’t hide her pleasure at the news. “That is wonderful. Adam and Elaine will be so pleased.” She stepped closer, and he held the letter out to her. Rather than take it, she stood at his side, resting a hand on his arm to read the paper he held. Her eyes skimmed the fine handwriting, then she looked up at her husband, proud of him. “This is lovely news. Better than what is in my letter, I should think.”
“Ah, yes.” Myles put the earl’s letter and baron’s list upon the mantel. Pippa released his arm but did not step away. She chewed her lip, somewhat anxiously, as he unfolded the letter from Mr. Young. “What did our old reclusive neighbor have to say to my young, beautiful wife?” he asked, narrowing his good eye at the paper.
His pretended suspicion drew a grin from her, and Pippa leaned her head against his shoulder.
“Come now. I couldn’t possibly entertain a flirtation with any man—not even the Regent himself—when I have you, my love.”
“That is most reassuring.” Myles put his left arm around her, holding the paper in his right hand toward the lamp. He read silently, and Pippa stayed tucked up beside him. Content in a way she had never felt before.
After enough time passed for Myles to have read the letter twice, he peered down at her. His good eye narrowed. “This is a proposed price, which feels quite well negotiated, to purchase all of Mr. Young’s property. Including the house he lives in, tenant cottages, and the Clock House.”
Pippa nodded slowly. “With the understanding that the cleared land in his western fields will be used to build a hospital for the soldiers.” Pippa couldn’t quite read her husband’s expression. “He has great admiration for military men.”
“Pippa. This is incredible.” Myles looked down at the letter again. “Have you written your brother and sister-in-law yet?”
She shook her head. “I wanted to be certain you approved. If you thought it a poor idea, or too high a price—”
“No. It’s wonderful.” He put the paper next to his own letter, then turned so he could hold Pippa in both his arms, the embrace comforting. “My wonderful, intelligent, incredible wife. To have the hospital here would be perfect. The country air, the neighborhood itself, would soothe many a battered man’s heart.”
“Oh, I am so glad you think it is right. I didn’t know if I should even speak to Mr. Young without you, but it would have been so disappointing if he had said no.” Pippa laid her cheek against his chest. Myles kissed the top of her forehead.
“You did well, love.” He kissed her temple. Her cheek. She tilted her chin up. “I am in awe of you.”
Her heart skipped with elation. Feeling mischievous, Pippa leaned away from him, the better to glare up at him. “If that is true, husband, then there ought to be less talking and a great deal more kissing.”
His smile turned into a wicked grin. “Is that so? I suppose if my lady demands it—”
“She does.” Pippa stood on her toes and kissed him before he could utter another word. They had gone too long married without opening their hearts to one another. She was done waiting. From that moment forward, she intended to enjoy her husband. His embraces, his laughter, his conversation, his kisses. All of it. All of him.
Much later that evening, the fire hardly more than embers, Pippa lay in her husband’s arms with her cheek against his chest. Her fingers traced the scars on his left side, marveling at what he had gone through. Grateful that she held him now, safe in her embrace.