Page 61 of Her Unsuitable Match

“I love you, Myles. And I intended to say it first.” She smiled and put her palm against his cheek. “And if you are broken, so am I. You were raised in a home of such love and acceptance. My father’s house was the opposite. You must help me learn to be as you are. Compassionate, honorable, and selfless.” She studied him, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “If we are both broken, perhaps we can help one another to fill in the missing pieces. And be whole again someday.”

Myles rested his forehead against hers and closed his eye. “I’m not sure when, or if, that will happen for me, Pippa.”

She ran her thumb gently across his lips, and a shudder went through his body. “If it takes our whole lives to heal, my love, I don’t mind. So long as I am with you.”

At last, Myles kissed his bride. He couldn’t keep himself from it another moment. Not when she tipped her head back with that inviting warmth in her gaze and the gentle way her lips parted. She kissed him, too. Quite thoroughly. Her hands went up his shoulders, then her fingers found their way to the back of his neck where they entangled themselves in his hair. His hands had a mind of their own, too. Though he began with holding her shoulders, they found the dip of her waist and pulled her closer.

One kiss wasn’t enough. They needed more. And they forgot about everything for a time. Myles was far too busy exploring his wife’s lips, sharing each breath and kiss with her, to remember that the upstairs sitting room faced the garden. Nor did he know, until later, that much of his family watched the display between the two of them with great satisfaction.

He only cared about that moment. About holding Pippa against his heart and feeling hers beating as hard and fast as his own.

When at last they rested, Pippa still in the circle of his arms, Myles relaxed his stance and tipped his head to one side. Studying her flushed cheeks and swollen lips with an awed pride he couldn’t explain, he realized he still hadn’t told her where he’d gone.

“I retrieved Bunny for you,” he murmured, his words barely louder than the bees visiting his mother’s roses. “That was my errand.”

Pippa put her hands on his forearms and pushed back, her eyes widening to twice their normal size. “You brought Bunny here? And Richard let you?”

“He wasn’t keen on the idea, actually. But your old friend, Mr. Rigby, made certain I did not leave empty handed.”

“That wonderful butler.” Pippa released his hand. “May I see her? Right now?” Pippa asked, bouncing on her toes. She didn’t wait for an answer. She took Myles’s hand and led him toward the stables while he laughed at her excitement. Then she stopped abruptly and went back to pick up her shears. “I promised your mother—”

He snatched them up first. “How many more does she need?” He’d helped her clip her roses for her annual teas more than once.

“A dozen, she said. I have…” Pippa counted up the stems quickly. “Eleven.”

Myles snipped a pink rose, then a red. He placed the pink in her basket and held the red out to her. “For you, my lady.”

Pippa twirled the rose between her fingers, staring up at him with open admiration. “I love you, Myles.”

“And I you, Pippa.” Together, they walked hand-in-hand to the stables where Pippa greeted her horse the way others would a favorite pet. “Sweet Bunny. Oh, my darling, I missed you so.”

And all was right, at last.

* * *

Pippa didn’t remember Myles’s letter until she changed for dinner. It fell out of her dress, along with her own. “Botheration.” She laid them on her dressing table, determined to give them to him that evening. Which meant waiting a few more hours, as his family had missed him, and everyone insisted he recount his adventurous horse-retrieval to them.

Watching her husband with his family, Pippa felt quite content. Apparently, spending days in the saddle agreed with him. When he told her how much he loved the country, though he avoided visiting his family so they would not feel the need to look after him, Pippa hadn’t realized what that truly meant. Here, surrounded by the familiar, Myles was at ease. He appeared more relaxed than she had ever seen him—so much so, she could almost forget he had once been a soldier.

After dinner, when the men rejoined the women for the evening, Pippa waited for her husband to sit next to her near the fire. He took his place happily, one arm stretched along the back of the couch along her shoulders. “My love.” He kissed her temple, right there where anyone might see.

“Myles.” She studied his profile, wondering at her luck at finding such a handsome man to be her husband. Eyepatch or no eyepatch, Myles had too many attractive qualities to go unnoticed. “I have letters you must read. They are in our room. One is from the Earl of Inglewood. The other…is difficult to explain. Would you come upstairs with me, so we may speak in private?”

“Of course. I think—that is, I hope I know why Lord Inglewood wrote. We spoke at length about the soldiers’ hospital.” He stood and held his hand out to her, assisting Pippa to her feet. Then he turned to his family to see all eyes upon them. Pippa’s cheeks went hot.

“If you will excuse us,” Pippa said, giving Myles’s hand a squeeze. “I have remembered an important letter for Myles.”

“By all means,” Lord Greenwood said, his affable smile in place. “I am certain you are both tired from a long day of excitement. We won’t expect to see you again until tomorrow.”

“Not at breakfast, I’d wager,” Winston whispered to his wife, barely loud enough for Pippa to hear him and wonder at his meaning. Myles’s glare toward his older brother made the implication clearer to her.

Blushing, Pippa tugged her husband out of the room behind her as quickly as she could go. Did the whole room think—? But then, they didn’t all know about their marriage. Only Lady Greenwood, and perhaps Lord Greenwood, knew. Still. A husband and wife retiring to bed together shouldn’t raise quite so many eyebrows. Should it?

When they entered their shared bedroom, Pippa couldn’t bring herself to look at Myles. Instead, she rushed to the table where she had left the letters. “Here they are.” She turned, and her stomach jumped when she realized Myles stood close. So close she hardly needed to extend her hand to give him both his sealed note from the Earl of Inglewood and her open letter from Mr. Young.

Myles stripped off his gloves and tossed them to the dressing table before taking the papers from her. He went to the hearth to read by the light of a lamp resting on its mantel. Pippa had to turn away to compose herself.

Slowly, she removed her gloves. Undoing the buttons at the wrist, then sliding the silken cloth down first one hand and the other. She focused all her attention there, and on her breathing. In and out. Perfectly calm. Composed.