Page 54 of Her Unsuitable Match

That didn’t strike Myles as any cause for concern. “As did her husband. I promised to write out all the details and send them that information along with how they might contact your brother.” He tapped the arm of the chair with the fingers of his left hand. “What else did the baronet’s wife say?”

Pippa shifted in her chair, clasping and unclasping her hands. Then she played with the ribbon at the end of her plaited hair and lowered her gaze. “She said something interesting about Sir Isaac. About what it was like, in the early months of their marriage. I had the feeling she wanted to give me advice. It seems he is also plagued by nightmares from his time at war.”

“I am aware of that.” Though it surprised him that his wife would divulge such a thing to a near stranger. And then, “Did you tell her I suffer the same?”

She lowered her gaze. “We spoke in confidence, Myles. One wife to another, about husbands who were wounded in war.” She chewed her bottom lip, a nervous habit he found endearing. Despite the breach of his privacy.

“I suppose finding herself with someone in a similar situation was unusual.” He could allow for that, despite the somewhat sick feeling in his stomach. “You said she offered advice.” He didn’t mean the words to sound clipped, yet he heard them that way.

Pippa folded her arms across her midsection. “Yes. Which brings me to the important part of this conversation. You must know, Myles, how much I admire you. I find you kind, and I feel safe when I am with you. You are a capable man.”

He stared at her, confused. “A capable man?” he repeated. “What does that mean, exactly?” And why did hearing her say that make him feel distinctly incapable?

“Botheration,” she muttered, looking heavenward as though beseeching the ceiling to open and the right words to drop in her lap. “What I am trying to say is that I do not feel—that is, I do not want you to feel any less of a man because of your injuries. Physical or otherwise.”

She had not truly spoken such a ridiculous sentence. Had she? Myles stared at his wife, incredulous. Every insecurity he felt about his missing eye, his scars, his nightmares, tumbled forward to snatch at her words and turn them over and over. Dissatisfied with them. Recognizing only one thing.

He spoke with a lowered voice. “Am I to thank you for that speech? Or for your pity?”

That made her dark blue eyes widen and glitter in the firelight. “It isn’t pity. It’s the truth.”

“And did Lady Fox advise you to say those same words? I somehow cannot imagine her encouraging such an indelicate phrasing.” Myles stood and walked to the hearth, glaring into the embers while he put both hands through his hair.

“Of course not. Any fault in my words are my own.” Pippa remained in the chair, as still as stone. “I did not mean to offend you. I felt it important for me to tell you that I find nothing lacking in your person or character.”

“It feels as though the opposite must be true,” he muttered, glaring at the embers in the hearth. They grew dimmer, the fire smaller. His hope followed suit. “Why are you telling me this?” He turned slowly to face her.

Pippa looked away from him. “Lady Fox said—she made me concerned for you. That you might think yourself broken. That you might need convincing that you are a whole man, worthy of affection and friendship.”

“Affection and friendship.” Those words were inadequate for what he wanted from her. Perhaps she meant to tell him that was all he would ever receive. He had more to say. So much more. But he settled for proving her thoughtless words wrong. “I am broken, Pippa. I am scarred. I am half-blind. My memories are washed in blood and smoke. When the palace celebrated the king’s birthday with fireworks—do you remember?—I cowered in the corner of my room when the first went off near my apartments. I didn’t even know I possessed such a weakness until that moment.”

She stared at him as he spoke, her eyes growing larger. “I didn’t know. But that doesn’t mean you’re—”

Myles laughed quietly. Darkly. Interrupting her. “It does. A clang of pots on the street. Fireworks during a celebration. Sudden noises. Someone sneaking up behind me. All those things send me backward in time, to the killing fields. To the groans of men dying all around me. To the explosion that took several of my regiment—my friends—away from this earth. And you want to tell me you think I am capable?”

Friendship. Affection. Watered-down words, flavorless as thinned wine.

“I hate for you to feel that you do not belong.” Pippa stood at last, her whole frame trembling in her agitation. “That you cannot be part of something that matters. Because that isn’t the truth.”

There it was. He knew well enough what mattered to her. She’d told him, since the beginning. “That I cannot be part of Society, you mean?” She stared at him blankly, confirming his suspicion. His shoulders fell. “I hate London. I only live there because I can afford the rent. I can eat at a club. I can pretend to be a gentleman, when in reality I have nothing except my pension to my name. A pension bought with my flesh and my soul.”

Her face grew pale. Was it his admission about London or his graphic language that she objected to? And why did he feel the twisted desire to push her to greater discomfort? Likely to ignore the hole opening in his heart.

“That is why we left London, isn’t it? You pretended it was for you. To avoid the gossip and rumor. But in reality, we were fleeing from Society’s eyes the moment I stumbled into memory on the street.”

Her mouth fell open, and her protest stumbled from her lips. “That isn’t true at all. Yes, I worried for you. That isn’t the entire reason—”

“Ah.” His heart fractured. “But it is a large part of the reason.”

Though her words were defensive, her tone sounded anxious. “I didn’t know what it would do to you, to be surrounded by crowds all the time. You never warned me, except at the ball, with your headache.” She approached him, hands outstretched and palms up. “I thought you needed a respite. Time in the country, with your family.”

Looking down at her hands, then lower to her bare toes, Myles swallowed back the bitterness of disappointment. “You would have preferred to stay in London for the end of the Season.” And the worst of it. “Even with the gossip.”

She came closer, her voice soft and pleading. “Myles.”

“Tell me, Pippa.”

Her answer came out with a deep sigh. “Yes.” Her hands lowered, and she spoke woodenly. “I wanted to stay in London until the Season ended. I had never fully enjoyed my time in London before. I am aware of how selfish that sounds.”