Page 28 of Her Unsuitable Match

As Philippa left her room, a thrill of excitement raced through her. For the first time in her life, she would leave the house without a maid or chaperone in attendance. Instead, her husband would accompany her, and she might stay out as long as she wished. True, she meant to spend her time accomplishing much-needed tasks. Myles simply must have clothing more suited to his new status as a well-connected husband and gentleman.

She started down the steps, pulling her wrist-length gloves into place as she did. As she wriggled the fingers of her hand to get the best fit, she paused and looked down, turning her hand palm-up. It had jolted her to see that her husband lacked two full fingers. Though she had suspected an injury, she hadn’t realized the seriousness of it.

An eye, his fingers, scars on one side of his face—where else might the war have touched his body?

Her cheeks warmed and she hurried to shake loose that most inappropriate thought. It wasn’t her business. Despite their marriage. And she wasn’t about to ask to inspect the horrible marks made by an awful wartime injury. How awful for her to even think such a thing! Doubtless, Myles wanted his privacy when it came to that subject. He certainly hadn’t ventured any explanations, and she didn’t need them to know that he conducted himself with honor and integrity.

Shaking her head at herself, Philippa continued down the stairs. She had nearly gained the ground floor when the front door opened with a slam. Philippa froze, and a footman hurried from the next room where he remained stationed to let guests into the home.

“Adam,” her brother Richard shouted, his voice bellowing through the house like an angry roll of thunder. Then his eyes caught sight of her, and Philippa very nearly turned to run back the way she had come.

“Phillipa.” The anger glazing in her brother’s eyes assaulted her, freezing her in place. He snarled as he strode forward, and the anxious footman shut the door to the street.

Despite the quaking in her knees, Philippa lifted her chin. “Richard. How good of you to call.”

“How dare you.” He came all the way to the steps before she realized he held a letter in his hand. He shoved it toward her, making her catch it. “This is a letter from your solicitor.” He then swore most colorfully about Mr. Tuttle-Kirk’s nature before continuing in only a slightly less frenzied tone. “You are coming with me, at once. The madman says you are married—”

“She is married.” The voice came from behind Philippa, but she didn’t dare turn her back to her brother. Even though she very much would have liked to see Myles descending the stairs, if only to determine how shaken he was by the earl’s anger. His firm tone and deep voice rippled across her like a gentle wave. “To me, in fact.”

“You? Who the devil are you? Cobbett—a nobody, and a cripple?” The venom in Richard’s words made Philippa shrink where she stood.

“My lord.” Myles sounded nearer now, and then she felt him descend to stand next to her. “There are better ways to vent your spleen than to shout in the face of my wife.”

“A farce,” Richard snapped, then glared at Philippa. “You married this cur rather than Lord Walter?” He jerked his head toward Myles. “Tell me it can be undone, Philippa. Now.”

Though she went cold at her brother’s tone, Philippa stiffened her resolve. Myles stood beside her, ready to support her. “No, Richard. It cannot.”

“Of all the stupid things to do, you ungrateful chit—making an alliance with a nobody when you could’ve inherited a duchy.” Richard threw his hands in the air. “Lord Walter’s brother has nothing but daughters, has lost his wife—”

Though the news surprised her, Richard’s determination to marry her off to a toad like Lord Walter suddenly made a great deal more sense. “I have no desire to be a duchess, nor to go about gloating because a man lost his wife.”

Richard’s hands balled into fists. “You selfish child. What that union would’ve done for our family—”

“You mean what it would do for you and your greed and arrogance! I won’t sacrifice myself for you, Richard. Give me what is mine and leave me be.”

He lunged forward, but what he meant to do she never learned. Because Myles was suddenly between them, his hand snatching up Richard’s wrist and twisting it deftly behind his back, turning the earl about at the same moment. Myles shoved the earl forward while the lord gasped out an oath that made Philippa’s mouth drop open.

“You will not threaten my wife,” Myles said as he propelled Richard toward the door. The footman who had been hovering before now opened it, his face ashen. “Nor will you appear before her again until you have learned to keep hold of yourself. Good day, my lord.” Myles gave one last push at the center of Richard’s back, causing the earl to take a stumbling step outside. Then Myles gave a quick nod to the footman, who hastily slammed the large door behind the nobleman, then slid the bolt in place.

“Will there be anything else, sir?” the footman asked, still pale but wearing an expression of awe.

“That will be all for now.” Myles waved a hand dismissively, and the servant bowed before hurrying away, likely making his way below stairs to spread news of the scene he had been privy to.

Myles stood still, his back to her. His shoulders were square and tense, and at that moment, Philippa’s trembling knees gave way. She sat on the steps and dropped her face into her hands. “I am sorry, Myles.”

“Sorry?” He sounded incredulous.

Philippa’s eyes prickled with tears as she spoke to the floor. “Richard is dreadful when he loses his temper, but he has never acted quite like that before.”

“Philippa.” A scuff on the floor told her of Myles’s approach, and then his fingers grazed her shoulder. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“But how he acted—what he said about you—” Philippa raised her head to look up at him. But the moment their eyes connected, Myles went down on one knee before her and made a handkerchief appear from his coat pocket. “Thank you.” She sniffled as she took the linen from him, then managed a weak smile. “This is the second time I have ruined one of your handkerchiefs.”

He shrugged, then released a deep sigh. “What your brother says or does is no reflection on you, my dear. It is best you put him from your mind and let Mr. Tuttle-Kirk handle the details of your inheritance. For today, do you still wish to go out into the world on a shopping expedition?”

Philippa gave a hesitant nod. “If you are still willing, then yes. Perhaps after we visit the tailor, we could go to Gunter’s for ices?” She felt a bit like a small child, looking to Myles as she did for comfort.

“I am completely at your command. First the tailor’s, then ices.” He stood and held his gloved hand out to her, which she took. He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze, then tucked it through his arm. “We will push past the unpleasant things and enjoy our day.”