Page 27 of Her Unsuitable Match

That made him start and come to his feet. “But I’m not looking for—”

The door opened just before Nancy reached it, and there stood Lady Philippa in a light-blue morning gown that made her eyes seem brighter still. “Nancy, here you are. Your mother is in the dining room, and she needs your help to write invitations for your birthday tea.”

“Oh, the dining room.” Nancy aimed a grin over her shoulder at Myles. “I didn’t look there. Aunt Pippa, Uncle Cobbett was looking for you.” She skipped out the door without another word, tugging it closed behind her.

Myles remained standing, staring at the woman he’d wed and yet only seen less than a handful of mealtimes since their exchange of vows. Philippa came toward him with a curious tilt of her head, and a fondness in her expression.

“Nancy is such a dear, isn’t she?” Ah. So the fondness wasn’t for him. Of course not. Silly of him to think it could be, really.

“I enjoy her straightforward conversation,” he admitted. “She seems a kind child.” Then he looked about for something to distract him from his wife’s lovely smile. “Would you care for some tea or a pastry?”

“No, thank you. Were you really looking for me?” She glanced pointedly at the folded newspaper on the arm of his chair.

The honest answer won out. “Not at the moment. Though I mentioned to Nancy that I hadn’t seen you today.”

Philippa hummed thoughtfully and went to the couch, lowering herself with the same grace with which she did everything. Perhaps earl’s daughters received special lessons in comportment, wherein they were taught how to walk as though they floated.

“I have been terribly remiss in seeing to your comfort.” She spoke as she would to any house guest, which made a wave of disappointment surprise Myles when it struck his mind. He tried to ignore the offensive feeling as he returned to his chair. “Now that Mr. Tuttle-Kirk and I have things settled, I cannot think of any more demands on my time. Which is why I have accepted an invitation to a ball for tomorrow evening. It was sent to Adam, Elaine, and myself, but you, of course, must be included. The invitation came before anyone could have known of our marriage.”

“A ball?” The only ball he’d been to in more than a year was the one where they had met, and he had ended the evening with a headache that pounded in his skull like a loose cannonball. “Are you certain you want my company? Many a married man sends his wife to such events alone.”

The cheerful expression she had worn faltered. “It is the first since our marriage. Appearing together in public is important to my reputation—and to how our marriage is perceived by Society.”

“No one even knows me.” He tried to sound indifferent. He didn’t enjoy balls. Yet if she asked it of him, he would go. Because the whole reason they had entered into a marriage was for her ability to move about in Society with freedom and without a scandalous reputation. Somehow, he had thought little on the fact that he must appear with her at such events. At least, not so soon.

“That is the point.” Her smile returned, looking less natural than before. Her dark lashes fluttered prettily at him, and he suddenly had a vision of a much younger Lady Philippa getting her way with that clear-eyed, sweetened expression. “People must come to know you, especially given your newly elevated status. A ball such as this one is just the thing. It is one of my mother’s friends, Lady Darwimple, hostessing the event.”

“Ah. One of the suspected sources of the gossip surrounding you and Lord W.” Myles considered another moment before he nodded. “Strategically, this is an important occasion. Very well. Tomorrow night, you say?” He looked down at his left hand on the arm of the chair. Had she noticed it yet?

“Yes. There won’t be time for you to have a new suit of clothes made,” she continued brightly, oblivious to the wince he couldn’t hold back. “What you wore before should do well enough. In the meantime, I thought you and I might go shopping today. Adam’s tailor is quite excellent, and he will certainly expedite anything you order since Adam has been such a faithful patron for many years.”

Though Myles could readily admit to enjoying the luxury of new clothing in the past, an ache started in his temples as he contemplated the necessity of going out. Yet one glance at Philippa’s hopeful smile meant quelling his misgivings.

“If you wish, we can undertake that mission.” He curled his left hand into a fist, and for the first time she glanced at his marred hand. Her body went still and rigid, her eyes first narrowing as she likely tried to puzzle out what she saw, then widened with realization.

Myles uncurled his thumb and remaining two fingers slowly. He looked down at his hand to avoid her gaze. “I normally stuff the fingers of my gloves.” The quiet words laid between them for several long seconds. In a culture that valued physical beauty and noble blood, with Myles possessing neither, he had learned to keep as much of himself hidden as possible. There wasn’t much to do about his face, except avoid humanity entirely. His bare hand, however, left him feeling vulnerable.

“Oh, Myles. How awful.” Philippa didn’t stir from where she sat, and when she spoke he wasn’t certain what she meant. Awful that he was disfigured? For whom? For her, to be stuck with him?

His heart clenched, and his chest tightened along with it. “I’ve learned to live with it. Some men were less fortunate. Losing entire limbs. Or their very lives.” He cleared his throat when his voice came out rougher than he meant.

“I cannot understand what it must be like,” she said quietly, and Myles looked up at last when he heard the gentleness in her words. Her expression had softened, her eyebrows drawn together, and she leaned toward him as she spoke. “Your eye, your hand. You gave up so much as a soldier. I am sorry for it.”

She meant well, he knew, so he gave her a smile he hoped wasn’t tinted with too much bitterness. “There are the things people can see, like the eyepatch and the scars.” He gestured to the left side of his face as he spoke. “Yet there is more that no one will ever see. For some, their bodies are whole, but their minds and hearts are wounded. For others, both body and soul are forever changed. That is why I went to the ball that evening, my lady. In hopes that people like your brother and sister can make a difference and convince others to do the same.”

For the barest moment, he thought he saw her eyes gleam with unshed tears. But then she blinked rapidly and stood. “Adam and Elaine are quite single-minded when it comes to their hospital. With your help, I am certain they will be a success. Now, if you will excuse me, I will prepare for our outing. Will you be ready to leave in a quarter of an hour?”

Myles rose slowly. “Of course, my lady.”

She made an impatient gesture with her hand, shaking her head at the same time. “Myles, do call me Philippa. We are married, after all.” Then she hurried from the room without looking back.

Standing where she left him, Myles put a hand to his forehead in an attempt to massage away the pain that threatening to bridge across it. Did he disgust her? Was that why she had rushed away? She had seemed kind. Nothing in her voice or expression had given away more of her emotions than her surprise and her sorrow. But then, what did it matter how she felt? One could have pity for someone and still have a friendship. Even a marriage.

But he hoped it wasn’t pity she felt. Because for the first time in ages, he had begun to imagine a life other than the one into which he’d settled. The upheaval might be uncomfortable, at first, but if Philippa and he could come to some kind of understanding…

Myles picked up his paper and looked at the pastry tray, untouched by anyone except Nancy. His stomach turned over at the idea of eating anything. So he left it for the servants to clean up and went in search of a footman to help him dress for an outing with his wife.

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