Page 60 of Her Unsuitable Match

Snip.

The tears dared fall at last, but she dashed them away too quickly for them to leave a trail upon her cheeks. When Myles returned, she wouldn’t cry. Even if her heart constricted every time she went to bed alone. And warmed when she thought on his smile, or the touch of his hand upon her skin.

Snip.

She wouldn’t cry. She would wait patiently for him to tell her where he went. Then, she would calmly tell him how concerned she felt for his welfare. How he ought to be more sensible when he left and tell at least one person where he intended to go and when he planned to return.

Snip.

She sneezed. Then grumbled and went searching for her handkerchief where she had tucked it in her bodice. Crying nearly always made her nose swell and itch. She sneezed again as she put the scrap of lace and linen to her nose.

“God bless you, Pippa.”

A ripple of excitement went through Pippa’s body, followed by a wave of blissful relief. She whirled around fast enough that the basket on her arm swung precariously.

“Myles.” She gripped the shears tighter.

Dust covered his clothes. He held his hat in both hands, exposing his hair sticking up this way and that, like a thicket of neglected shrubbery. And he hadn’t shaved in a few days, given the dark shadow along his cheeks and jaw. He looked a complete mess. Yet she wanted to throw herself into his arms—an urge she had never before experienced.

Because she loved him.

Her heart happily confirmed this sudden knowledge, skipping in her chest like a child in a meadow. She caught her breath. Then expelled it in a single, strangled question. “Where have you been?”

* * *

When Myles had walked through the front door of his childhood home, he’d met Elenor in the hall. She had looked him up and down before exclaiming, “You look absolutely terrible.”

Margaret had peeked through the open doorway of the front sitting room. “What was that? Oh! Myles, you’re home. Pippa will be so relieved. She’s in the rose garden.”

Pippa didn’t look relieved. Her blue eyes had darkened with what could only be anger, her eyebrows drawn together, her whole body trembling as she looked at him.

“Where have I been?” he repeated her question, shifting his weight from one foot to another. When her eyes narrowed, he adjusted his stance to the same military-posture he would use when addressing a commanding officer. “I had an important errand, Pippa.”

He noticed when the hand gripping the gardening shears tightened, and Myles wondered how well his wife might wield such a weapon.

“An errand,” she said, voice bland. “You left, without a word, for an errand? What could be so important that you would leave before I woke? Before telling me when you planned to return? Myles—no one knew where you had gone.” She went to the table and dropped the basket on it, scattering a few roses from within. She leaned forward, steadying herself with both hands on the table’s surface. “I was so worried,” she whispered. “And you look ghastly.”

That caused a prick of hurt before he realized she meant the dust coating him from heel to head. Maybe he ought to have cleaned up first. But when he’d learned where Pippa was, he had needed to find her at once.

“I am here, and unharmed. I did not think my absence would cause such concern.” And now that he realized it had, guilt lodged itself in his gut. “I wanted—that is, I needed to prove something to you. I didn’t know how else to do it.”

Pippa turned to face him, now leaning back against the table. “What in heaven did you feel you needed to prove?” She gripped the edge of the table. The familiar scent of his mother’s roses kept him steady, soothing him and keeping his mind and heart calm.

Had she forgotten their argument the night before he left? Doubtful. Myles approached slowly until he stood directly in front of her, only an arm’s length from touch. He turned his hat round and round in his hands, then tossed it to the table. Her gaze never wavered from studying his face.

He really ought to have washed. Or at least shaved. He already wasn’t much to look at. Perhaps that was the place to begin. “I know my scarring is unsightly. Especially when it comes to moving about in London Society.”

She blinked at him.

“And my difficulty with nightmares, my unsteady nerves, are inconvenient at best, but more often they are…well.” She didn’t say anything, but a softness stole across her features. “It is frightening, at times. Not knowing when an episode like the one in Town will occur.”

“I cannot imagine what you have been through, Myles.” Pippa’s shoulders relaxed, and her body swayed slightly toward him before she settled more firmly on her heels. “Because I could not understand, I said all the wrong things before.” Her cheeks turned a shade of pink that made his heart flip backward. “Will you forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forgive.” He shook his head and nearly reached for her. He had to clench his hand at his side to remind himself not to touch her—if he touched her, he would immediately forget everything he meant to say. “I am broken, Pippa. My body is scarred, but so are my mind and my heart. I am not a whole man—I never will be. The war took too much of me. But if you will have me, broken as I am, I swear I will spend the rest of my days working to be worthy of you. Because I love you.”

Pippa moved with unpredictable speed. One moment she stood before him, trembling, and the next she had wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his road-dusted cravat. She held him tightly, as though afraid he would slip away again.

Carefully, he put his arms around her. His surprise grew to elation. Myles bent his head to lay his cheek upon the soft curls of dark brown hair. Her honey-sweet scent mingled with the roses around them, creating an entirely new memory he predicted would offer him comfort for years to come. And when she at last tilted her head back enough to look at him, Myles didn’t bother to wipe the tears from his good eye.