Page 36 of Her Unsuitable Match

Pippa started. “I—I suppose I must. To an extent.” Yes, it would take time. But surely she needn’t leave London. Not when her time was finally her own. Yet it didn’t fall to her to make the decision alone, surely. If she asked Myles, and he preferred London, it would certainly settle her mind. And yet—what if he wished to leave? Did that follow that she must abide by his desire, rather than her own? Or compromise?

She had promised to live under the same roof with him for a year as they came to know one another, and as they worked together to build the kind of life they each wanted.

Pippa ought to ask him. She parted her lips to do so when a knock on the door forestalled her. Myles raised his visible eyebrow at her and waited for her to answer the knock. “Enter,” she called, putting aside the question for another time.

In came the butler, introducing their guests for the evening. Mr. and Mrs. Joshua Moreton, the only friends she had actually heard her husband mention. Which meant their good opinion mattered to him, and Philippa meant to have it.

Elaine and Adam joined them shortly after, and while the men spoke on one side of the room, the women came to know one another on the other. Mrs. Moreton and Elaine had similar temperaments, though the former seemed far quicker to laugh than the quieter Elaine. By the time dinner was announced, the women were deep in discussion about the coming of summer, and how glad they would be to leave long sleeves behind in the warmer weather.

The dinner hour passed happily, and the after-dinner conversation proved entertaining, too. All the while, Pippa kept an eye on her husband, noting how different he seemed in company with his friends. He was relaxed. He spoke with a dry wit that surprised her. And he smiled more than he had seen him smile the whole of their knowing each other.

And she began to wonder if maybe Elaine had a point. Maybe it would behoove her to come to know Myles better.

Thirteen

“What are we looking for at this one?” Myles asked his wife, looking up at the tall brick building before them.

“Furniture for our future home. When we find it.” She grinned at him and tugged upon his arm.

Myles escorted Philippa through the warehouse district, a place he had never visited before. A week had passed since their dinner with the Moretons, and Myles had spent every day except Sunday wandering about London in the mornings.

He returned to the house in the afternoon to meet with Gillensford to discuss the hospital and soldiers’ affairs. They would walk through a potential building sight the next day. Gillensford had hoped to secure an old building and repurpose it, but Myles had nearly convinced him that something built specifically for their purpose would prove a better investment.

During dinner the evening before, Philippa had asked if he would accompany her on what she called a “shopping expedition.” Though her phrasing had amused him, he hadn’t realized how literal she meant the phrase. They had started directly after breakfast, and he found himself wishing they had brought along elephants to ride and porters to carry a supply of food and water. It was nearly time to return to the house for dinner, and his feet hurt as they had during the longest of his military marching campaigns.

His wife had tried to engage him in conversation in the evenings, showing interest in his day and his work with her brother. He tried to avoid saying overmuch about the number of times he met people who knew her. Men and women who raised their eyebrows, made what they thought were cutting or witty remarks, then went on their way. He had even glimpsed her eldest brother the previous afternoon, and the man had pretended not to see him. More than a few people on the street saw that moment—a social slight, though not the cut direct.

Things weren’t getting any easier for either of them. Philippa’s remarks about her days always lacked any mention of visitors or friends, except for a few visits exchanged between her and Emmeline Moreton. Emmeline had won Philippa’s friendship quite easily, as Myles had hoped.

They entered the warehouse, where bolts of thick upholstery fabric hung on walls and furniture was scattered throughout large rooms. Rows of chairs stood together, each one intricately carved, and tables were in another room entirely. Philippa led him from one collection of couches to another, occasionally pausing to discuss the merits of a specific design. Myles tried to show an interest, though one chair looked the same as another to him.

Furnishings mattered a great deal more to his wife than to him.

A clerk followed them about with a notebook, jotting down observations Philippa made. Though they were not making a purchase today, the clerk had offered to send home with her a list of her favorite items and swatches of fabric. Setting up a home together would be a costly affair, with far more decisions than he had considered.

When they finally left the warehouse, Philippa twined her arm through his and smiled up at him. “I have never chosen furnishings before. Everything we have at our country estate is terribly old. And Elaine is only leasing the townhouse, which came with all its furniture. Starting with nothing is rather thrilling.”

“And expensive,” Myles added with a chuckle. “Have you given much thought to searching out a house in London?”

“Not yet. I cannot decide what size would be best for just the two of us.”

Just the two of them. For now. Though he hoped, by year’s end, she would consider adding children to their arrangement. Among other things. Marriage to a beautiful woman who had no intention of falling pregnant meant keeping his distance both physically and emotionally. Which proved harder the more time Myles spent near Philippa.

Her beauty was alluring, especially when she smiled or spoke of things which excited her. And she was clever. She read the newspaper and could converse on a number of topics. She enjoyed laughing. She adored her nieces and spoke often of the nephew away at school. He found everything about his wife utterly charming.

Which meant staying away from her as much as possible. Spending the long day walking through warehouses and shops with her had been difficult. For one thing, it meant fighting to keep his interest and growing awareness of her hidden. For another, the only distraction from his wife was the constant awareness of the crowds shifting and pressing in around them.

His head had started to ache an hour before they finished. And his shoulders carried the tension of the last week, try as he might to ignore it.

Back outside, horses came and went in the street at such speeds that Myles did not trust to cross them. Not with Philippa on his arm and a blind eye. “Let us walk a little more in this direction. Perhaps we will find a carriage for hire without crossing the road.”

“I knew we ought to have kept our driver,” she said. “Though I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to our horses to make them stand about all day, waiting for us.”

“Leave it to me.” Myles patted her hand reassuringly. They had gone a dozen steps more when a loud crash—the sound of metal striking something hard—exploded nearby. With the crash came a horse’s scream, and angry shouting as a driver tried to calm his beast. And Myles—Myles pulled his wife against the building nearest them. His heart raced within his breast, his head swiveling quickly as he tried to find the source of the sound—the source of danger. Blackness crowded in upon him. Another loud crash made him duck his head, forcing Philippa down with him for protection.

Cannon fire and the screams of men both roared within his ears so loudly that he shook, and then he felt his wife’s hand slip away from him. Someone shook him. Slowly the surrounding sounds faded away, leaving the worried words of his wife to float into his awareness.

“Myles? Is something wrong? Myles, are you unwell?”