Page 53 of Her Unsuitable Match

“None at all. I very much want to thank him for saving my husband’s life.” Pippa squeeze Myles’s hand and glanced up to see him looking at her with a softness she had begun seeing since their arrival in the country.

The afternoon passed in a blur of sunshine and laughter. The men ambled away from the women after the food and lemonade had been mostly consumed. Myles had taken Lord Inglewood and Sir Isaac to try their hand at the lawn games his family had provided. Pippa sat content in the shade between Lady Inglewood and Lady Fox. The three of them had spoken enough to have found connections between them, though tenuous. But it was enough for them to converse together comfortably.

“I have heard of the hospital your brother wants to build,” Lady Fox said during a lull in their conversation. She glanced from Lady Inglewood to Pippa. “Sir Isaac wanted to attend the ball in London last month, but we had already withdrawn to the country.”

“Oh, the Gillensford hospital for soldiers?” Lady Inglewood sat straighter. “I had nearly forgotten—Isaac mentioned it in passing to me when they first returned home.” Lady Inglewood was the younger sister of the baronet, a connection that had been made immediately apparent to Pippa given their kindly-meant teasing of one another.

“We have great hopes for the hospital.” Pippa turned her gaze across the pond, to the other side, where the men were heard laughing. She had met her husband at that ball. Something she didn’t intend to announce, though she grew increasingly grateful he had come that night. “Myles is devoted to the project. He has seen so much sorrow since the war. I know he hopes the hospital will provide a safe, comfortable place for soldiers to recover from their wounds. Those that are readily apparent, and otherwise.”

Lady Fox and Lady Inglewood exchanged a significant glance. “I know precisely what you mean,” Lady Fox murmured. She held a fan and wafted herself languidly as she spoke. “Given the way your husband feels, and the significant wounds he acquired, I am perhaps right when I suppose that he has nightmares?”

Pippa stiffened, a defense of Myles rising to her tongue, but then she saw the sympathy and knowledge in the other woman’s eyes. And in Lady Inglewood’s. “Does Sir Isaac…?”

“Things are getting better,” Lady Fox murmured, looking into the distance. “At least, I sometimes think they are. I should not be surprised if his dreams stay part of our lives forever. No one can live through such darkness without carrying the memory of it with them.”

Lady Inglewood laid her hand on her sister-in-law’s, then smiled at Pippa. “I do not think my brother would have come away from his home for this visit without Lady Fox’s support. The love of a wife makes all the difference in a man’s healing. But then, new as you are to your marriage, you have likely already discovered that truth.”

Startled, Pippa lowered her gaze to the rug on which they sat. “Yes, of course. I do all I can to support my husband.” But had she? Was escaping from London enough?

“The most difficult thing for me, in those early months of marriage, was convincing my husband that I loved him just as he was.” Lady Fox spoke with conviction and a determined tilt of her chin. “Our Society lays such importance on appearance, and on our gentlemen publicly eschewing all emotion. Isaac thought himself broken and therefore unworthy of my love. He didn’t think he could tell me things without causing me pain, or worse, making me pity him.”

Could Myles think such things about himself? He had said things…had apologized for things that she had dismissed in the past. Though she had compassion for her husband, was it enough? If someone thought themselves broken beyond repair—as Sir Isaac had—what would reassure them? If Myles hid how he felt, she could not help him.

“England needs the hospital,” Lady Inglewood said, conviction in her words. “I hope your husband will discuss the particulars with mine. If we can help in any way, I should like to. For Isaac’s sake, and everyone like him.”

Pippa agreed with them, then allowed the conversation to drift from that topic even while she made up her mind to speak to her husband. As soon as she had opportunity to do so. He needed to know how she felt. At least—some of what she felt.

A roar of laughter from the other side of the pond drew her gaze, and Pippa saw her husband among the laughing men. And then he looked at her. Despite the distance between them, she felt the moment their eyes connected. Her cheeks warmed as he touched the brim of his hat.

She shivered, despite the warmth of the day, and diverted herself with her fan. When she glanced up again, Myles still watched her.

And she wondered at the connection that had grown between them.

Eighteen

The night after the picnic, Myles delayed his rest as long as he could. He wanted to be certain Pippa had ample time to dress for bed and slip beneath the covers before he entered the room. Then she could pretend to sleep, and they could both pretend it meant nothing that he climbed into bed beside her.

They hadn’t discussed the arrangement since that first night, when he woke from the nightmare. It was something they both understood. And if it meant he slept comfortably, next to the woman he loved, Myles didn’t mind it at all.

When he entered the room, as quiet as ever, Myles paused in the doorway. The bed remained empty. For a horrible moment, he thought Pippa had disappeared. Left him. Went to sleep in another room, somehow. The thought chilled him, right through to his heart.

“Myles.”

Her voice brought his gaze to her, where she sat in one of the chairs before the fire. The flames were low, and the shadows many. His beautiful wife waited for him, with a night-rail over her gown and her hair plaited down one shoulder.

“Pippa.” He closed the door carefully behind him. “I didn’t think you would still be awake or…up.” It seemed their silent understanding wasn’t to remain silent any longer. “Do you wish me to leave for another hour?”

She shook her head, and for one moment Myles’s heart skipped with hope. Would she invite him to stay? Had something changed—did Pippa want more at last?

“I wanted to speak with you in private. I thought there might not be a better time for such a conversation than now.”

Despite his disappointment, Myles tried for levity in his response. “People are unlikely to interrupt us in our bedroom.” Though the implication of that statement made him wince, he cleared his throat and approached the chair opposite hers. “I am at your service, Pippa. What is it you wish to discuss?” And why was she already dressed for bed? Her bare feet peeked out from beneath the hem of her white linen gown. He cleared his throat and sat down.

“Something that Lady Fox said today, actually.”

“Ah. I liked the Foxes. And Inglewood. They are excellent company.” And he hadn’t though it possible for them to offer offense to his wife, but why else would Pippa wear such a solemn expression?

With her eyebrows drawn together, and an almost pained smile, she said, “I like them, too. Very much. Lady Fox had much to say on the matter of the hospital.”