Page 46 of Her Unsuitable Match

“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.”