Her Unsuitable Match, page 18
“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.
Sixteen
As an early riser, Myles had the good fortune to wake before his lady wife. When he woke, his awareness of his surroundings came slowly. The early hour meant the room was still in shades of blue and gray. Philippa’s soft, slow breathing pulled his gaze to her, but as he turned his head to admire her peaceful slumber, he realized she had moved closer to him in the night.
Philippa pressed one bare foot against his calf. He felt the contact, from the tip of her toes to the soft curve of her heel. She slept with her back to him, leaving him a glimpse of her profile to admire.
Of course, recollecting how he had wound up in bed next to his wife made him wince. She’d woken him from a nightmare. Then insisted he not sleep another moment in the uncomfortable chair and the cold room.
He had given in to her demands. But at what cost?
Gathering himself to sneak out from beneath the bedcovers, Myles took in a deep breath. And inhaled the soft scent of his wife. She smelled of cotton warmed in the sun and honeysuckle blooming on the vine. Everything about her was soft and beautiful.
So much the opposite of what he was. Half blind. Scarred. Hardened, and brittle enough to break.
That realization gave him the strength to leave the room. Without disturbing Philippa.
True, his cravat was crooked. And he wore clothing more suitable to rambling about the countryside than sitting in his mother’s garden, where he soon found himself, but at least he had clothed himself decently enough to make his escape.
Why did he always feel the need to run away from his wife?
Myles marched down a dirt path, through a low gate covered in ivy, and into a stand of trees. There weren’t many trees, of course. They acted more as a break in the view from the house than as any sort of wood. But they were sturdy. They provided ample shade, and two branches bore swings in their branches.
The quiet didn’t last long.
A tromping of feet from the direction of the house surprised Myles. He hadn’t thought anyone else would be awake, much less capable of following him. He peered through the trees to the dirt path and spotted Winston.
And a few of Winston’s children trotting along beside him.
“There he is,” shouted the eldest, Winston’s eleven-year-old daughter. “We found Uncle Myles.”
“I thought it would be harder,” the nine-year-old son declared. “Uncle Myles, were you even trying to hide?”
“Papa said he was,” the six-year-old boy said smartly.
Winston had always been far too perceptive. That trait that made it impossible to keep secrets from him likely aided him as a clergyman.
They were close enough now that Myles could see the grin on his brother’s face. “Mind your manners, or it’s back to the nursery with all of you.”
“I want to swing first!” shouted his daughter. The three children raced to the two swings, their interest in Myles given up in favor of something more diverting. Winston shook his head at them, then settled next to Myles on the old iron bench.
Myles eyed his brother with amusement. “Though I suppose a vicar might keep early hours, I didn’t think you’d pass up an opportunity to stay in bed at Ambleside.”
“I could say the same thing about soldiers and their early hours,” Winston muttered, tilting his head back and crossing his legs at the ankle. He closed his eyes. “Especially newlywed soldiers.”
Myles faced away from his brother. “I left Philippa sleeping.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Hm.” Winston cracked one eye open to look at Myles. “What did she make of the family last night? I was curious, given how early she retired for the evening. I hope we didn’t make her uncomfortable. Mary does have the tendency to say whatever is on her mind—”
“She was only tired. She was asleep before I even entered the room.” Myles had to smile at that. His wife had pretended to be asleep when he came in the night before. “I think she enjoyed meeting everyone. Philippa’s family isn’t like ours, though. They are…distant to one another. I think she only gets along with one of her brothers.”
“The one opening up that hospital?” Winston asked, and when Myles raised his eyebrows, his older brother grinned. “Mother read your letter out loud to everyone when it came.”
“Of course she did. Yes. The brother opening the hospital.” Myles led the conversation in that direction for a time. It was easier to speak about the Gillensford hospital than his wife, or his marriage. And Winston showed genuine interest in the endeavor. He’d been an essential part of Myles’s early recovery from war. And he’d counseled many returned soldiers as a vicar.
Before too long, Myles felt comfortable again. At his childhood home, listening to one of his nieces and two nephews playing, and speaking with his brother, he could forget about himself. It was easier to enjoy the present moment.
“Here they are,” a new voice sang through the trees. “I knew we’d find them out of doors.” Mary and Winston’s wife, Laurel, had arrived. A small gaggle of children came with them. And behind the mothers and children, walking arm in arm, was Myles’s father and Philippa.
Myles rose to his feet the moment he laid eyes upon her. She looked beautiful, wearing a simple ivory gown with her dark hair piled loosely atop her head. Ringlets of curls framed her lovely face, and her rose-colored lips pulled back in a joyful smile.
Winston slowly came to his feet, too. He must’ve read the admiration Myles held for his wife quite clearly, given the amused warning that followed. “Steady there, Myles. Remember. There are children present.” He chuckled, then stepped forward to intercept Laurel. “We haven’t been missing long, surely.”
“Long enough that the breakfast table is laid and waiting.” Laurel stepped into her husband’s embrace, and their two youngest children immediately ran to petition for their own turns on the swings.
Myles’s father was speaking quietly to Philippa, teasing a laugh from her. And Myles wished very much he could perform such a trick. Maybe he could try.
Philippa’s gaze landed upon him, and somehow her expression brightened still more.
His father spoke first. “Myles, your wife is a delight. Thank you for bringing her to us.” He patted her hand where it rested on his arm. “I’ve just found out that the two of you have never danced together. I told Pippa we would be certain to remedy that while you visit.”
“Did you?” Myles raised his eyebrows at his wife. “Though we have never been partners, we have stood up for the same dance. And we even joined hands a time or two.”
“That isn’t the same thing,” his father insisted. “Perhaps we can hold an informal party for the two of you. A congratulatory evening, of sorts, with entertainment and dancing. What say you, Pippa? Are you game?”
“It is a very kind suggestion, Father Cobbett.” Her smile softened as she turned it to Myles. “But I think the two of us are hoping for more quiet after the gaiety of London Society. The last ball we attended left both of us exhausted.”
“Yes, but our Ambleside parties are not so large affairs as those in London. Only our nearest neighbors need come.” His father appeared thoughtful a moment. “Perhaps five and twenty couples. Enough to make our rooms feel crowded while still leaving room to dance.”
“Good heavens.” Philippa laughed and shook her head, setting her curls to bouncing. “That is far too many people for me to meet all at once. Especially in one evening. You know, I think I would much prefer something out of doors. London is terribly crowded, and I have missed the country air.”
Like a bolt from heaven, the realization struck Myles that his wife was attempting to steer his father into an avenue of entertainment that would be less likely to make Myles uncomfortable. A lack of crowds. Fresh air. Less stiff formality.
His heart crossed the last threshold from admiration into love. In that very moment. Without Myles thinking on it. With him unable to do more than stare at her in awe and adoration.
Somehow, in a slow and quiet way, he had fallen in love with his wife.
His father had already responded to her, and they were both now looking at Myles. Waiting for him to say something. His father with eyebrows raised and a crooked smile. Philippa with a curious narrowing of her eyes.
Despite his sudden realization, he had to act as unaffected as possible. “I beg your pardon. What did you ask me?”
Philippa released his father’s arm to come to Myles’s side, her eyes searching his. “Your father asked if we might like a celebratory picnic held in our honor, this Sunday after church.” Then her fingertips touched his wrist. His palm. And he threaded his fingers with hers. “Though I am concerned about the number of people I must then be expected to identify as friends.” She had given him a way to escape yet again.
Myles squeezed her hand gently. “I think a picnic would be perfect. I will be there with you.” He could handle a picnic. Especially with Pippa by his side. His lovely, kind-hearted wife, who had left London to see to his comfort rather than her own. Then pretended to have a difficult time with crowds when the reality was that she thrived in the midst of them.
Guilt stung his heart. She had left London for his sake. He knew it now. The gossips were an excuse. For some reason, Pippa had decided to look after him. When he felt it ought always to be the other way around.
The baron clapped his hands together, startling Myles out of his admiration of his wife. “That’s settled then. Let’s all go to breakfast and plan things out properly with your mother.” He winked at Pippa. “She has hoped for a reason to show you off to the neighborhood, my dear.”
Pippa laughed, and another piece of Myles’s heart belonged to her.
Without warning, their marriage of convenience had turned into something much more precious to him.
After breakfast, Pippa and Myles were practically pushed out the door by his parents. “Show your wife all the best places for a picnic,” her new mother-in-law insisted. “Pippa must choose where we hold our afternoon gathering.”
Pippa barely had time to slip on a bonnet and gloves, and Myles only popped on an old tricorn hat that had seen better days before leading her out into the countryside behind their house. A few of his nephews had tried to accompany them, but somehow Uncle Winston had bribed them away with the promise of a fishing expedition, leaving Pippa and Myles alone on their ramble through the trees and then a meadow.
“I hope you do not mind my family’s eagerness too much,” Myles said, his hands tucked behind his back. She walked alongside him, plucking up a wildflower here and there as they went. “They want you to like it here, so you will come back, towing me with you.”
“They certainly needn’t expend too much effort on my account,” Pippa said, lifting a daisy to her nose. “I am charmed by all of them, Myles. By all of this.” She gestured with the flower to their peaceful surroundings. Butterflies fluttered alongside them, going from flower to flower. The sound of the grass rustling in the breeze and the hum of bees were far better sounds than clattering wheels on cobblestone streets. “I spent much of my childhood wandering about the estate where Adam and Elaine live when they are not in London. I spent all of last summer riding Bunny about, free as the wind.” She smiled wistfully at the thought of her mare. A horse she feared she would lose to her brother’s spite. Best not to dwell on something that hadn’t occurred yet. “I quite enjoy the country.”
Myles cocked his head to the side, his dark brown eye singly focused on her, his brow creased in puzzlement.
She tapped his sleeve with her flower. “You thought I preferred London to everything else, didn’t you?”
He shrugged and turned his face away, allowing her to admire his profile. “I know your life in London is important to you. The freedom you wanted to enjoy is all there—not in a place like this.” He waved at the meadow and trees.
Pippa raised her eyes to the clouds above her, picking out snatches of blue between the gray and white of an English summer sky. “That is the point of freedom, isn’t it? That you can come and go as you please, whether it is to and from the theater or a fishpond.”
“The company is likely better at the fishpond,” Myles muttered, and Pippa allowed herself to giggle. An amused smile turned his lips upward. “My apologies. Comparing people to fish isn’t kind.”
“Yes. The fish might take offense.”
Myles’s laugh seemed to surprise him as much as it did her, and the richness of his voice made her shiver with pleasure. He didn’t laugh enough. Though she certainly saw more of his smile of late than she had in London. How had he ever agreed to marry her, knowing she would drag him from one despised event to another?
He’d wanted to rescue her, of course. And provide for his younger sisters. Sisters who had, that very morning, plotted carefully which bachelors in the neighborhood they wished to invite to the picnic. Did they know yet that Myles intended to enlarge their dowries?
Pippa cradled her wildflowers closer. Had there ever been that same giddiness of feeling when she had considered suitors? She couldn’t remember such excitement when she thought of one man over another. And she had quickly decided not to bother with courtship and marriage at all. Not after she saw how miserable her siblings were in their matches. All except Adam and Elaine.
She peered up at Myles from beneath the brim of her bonnet. “Did you enjoy growing up at Ambleside?”
He slowed to a stop, then swept the surrounding countryside with his gaze. “I think my childhood as close to perfect as it could come.” He led them up a small hill. “The years I spent running across hills and climbing trees with my brothers and sisters didn’t prepare me for the life of a soldier—but my father’s lessons of honor and duty made the more difficult days bearable. My mother’s example of compassion kept me from focusing inward, where I likely would have spiraled into the same darkness and despair I sometimes see in the eyes of other men who spent their youth making war.”
Was that the secret to his character? Good parents. A gentle childhood. Having seen where he grew up, she could appreciate all that was beautiful about it. Yet the Cobbett family, despite his father’s title, wasn’t wealthy. Not when compared to her own family’s coffers. What was it that made their family so happy?
When Pippa didn’t respond, Myles stopped walking and looked down at her. “My apologies, Pippa. We are supposed to find a place for a picnic. It should be a diverting task, and I’ve grown morose.”
“I am not at all offended by your conversation, Myles. If anything, I am intrigued. Your character puzzles me at times.”
His eyebrows rose. “In what way? I cannot think myself too mysterious. Though the eyepatch, I am told, lends me a certain air of peculiarity.”
She giggled, like a flirtatious maiden rather than a sophisticated woman of Society. Then she cleared her throat. “Your eyepatch, sir, is absolutely charming. I would say it hints at a roguish quality. But anyone expecting to meet with a scoundrel will be terribly disappointed. You are an excellent product of your parents—honorable and good.”
He stared at her in silence, his lips curving upward softly. “You are too kind in your assessment.”
