An Arrangement of Sorts Read online

  Moira’s mouth gaped as he spoke, never imagining that this was what had happened. Surely he did not… surely he would not have…

  “And then I sounded the call once more, and rode towards our enemy. On my own.”

  A gasp of horror passed Moira’s lips before she could stop it, and she brought a hand up to cover her mouth, but Nathan paid her no heed. “They didn’t follow you?” she asked, wondering if he would even hear her.

  He shook his head in response. "Not at first. I believe they stood there for a moment, unable to believe what a stupid thing I had done. But the moment the first shots were fired, they abandoned their fear and charged after me. I suppose I ought to be grateful that they felt any sort of attachment to me at all. It would have been many bullets in me as opposed to only one otherwise. At the time, however, I would not have cared. The moment the bullet shot through my chest, I felt justified in my action. I had done my duty and paid the price for it as well. But once the fire spread through me and I fell to the ground, I realized what a fool I had been, and instantly I mourned the lives I knew I would lose.” He shook his head slowly and exhaled. “And then I lost consciousness and woke up some days later at a camp in Bedford where surgeons had been tending to me night and day. They should not have fought so hard for someone so foolish.”

  “How many lives were lost?” she whispered.

  He smiled grimly. “Only two. One was a hardened veteran whose heart gave out moments after battle, and the other was a fool who rushed out to defend me before being fully recovered from illness. Apparently, our company’s incomprehensible actions terrified the enemy and they feared our strength would overwhelm them.” He snorted softly in derision. “It was a lucky chance that they were. Disaster would have been inevitable, but on our side alone. Our commanding officers were so impressed with our astonishing victory that they gave me a commission and honored the entire company.”

  “Nathan…” Moira murmured in an almost breathless manner. Such pain and depth of regret was unexpected, and his determination to run himself down was disconcerting for her, knowing what a strong man he was at all other times.

  He either did not hear her or was simply ignoring her, for he went on. “My wound was grave enough to prevent me from taking command in such an active role again. I didn’t mind, I was hardly in a position to lead anyone. But I didn’t want to resign my commission. I had no prospects outside of the army, no hope of anything else to do in my life. I was therefore to be used to search out companies and soldiers that had either gone missing or had not been heard from. I was a reckless rider with a drive that was well suited for the hunt.” He finally looked at her, his eyes hard and his jaw tight. “That is how I came across your Mr. Carpenter and several others at times. I was able to track them down and… convince them to return to their regiment. I became well known for it, but it did not endear me to the men I found under those circumstances. It was late last spring, almost six years after receiving my wound, when I decided that enough was enough, and I left the army.”

  “No wonder you wished to remain hidden,” she murmured faintly.

  He offered her a stiff smile. “So that is the rather extended story of my scar, Moira. As I said, not a very pleasant tale.”

  “What could possibly have led you to do something like that?” she asked, utterly baffled still at his daring actions.

  Instantly, his expression shuttered and his eyes darkened. “Pass,” he muttered, looking away.

  It was one word, just one simple word, and one that she herself had insisted upon and had used, but that one word spoke volumes. What could be worse than what he had already shared?

  “Does it still hurt?” she asked in small voice, determined to keep him talking, if at all possible. “Your scar, I mean.”

  “No.”

  Moira bit her lip again, wishing she had never asked about any of it.

  No doubt Nathan was very much looking forward to returning to his former life of privacy, away from annoying women and invasive questions that he had been more than obliging enough to answer.

  But Moira could not help but admit, if only to herself, that she thought more of him now that she knew him better than she could have possibly imagined she would. And for that alone, she could not regret her actions.

  The silence dragged on and on, and in it Nathan found only painful reminders of the past and the knowledge that he was a fool. Neither one of those things would make Moira very comfortable, should she have known, and he had had quite enough of it.

  “Can we talk of something else, please?” he asked softly with a sigh.

  Moira peered up at him from beneath her long lashes, biting her lip. “Would you rather I be silent? I have forced you to talk quite enough for one day, so I would more than understand if you would care for some peace.”

  He surprised himself by smiling. “No, as a matter of fact, I would not care for silence. I don’t want to reflect any more today.”

  She returned his smile with a bright one of her own, and his spirits lifted at the sight of it. “Well, in that case…”

  “Oh, good heavens,” he moaned in mock-agony, “what have I just done?”

  She frowned at him. “Hush, you. I have one simple question.”

  He raised a brow. “And that is?”

  She made a face. “Do I really have to wear a bonnet to be proper?”

  He chuckled, more amused than he thought he would be. “Yes, Moira. You are quite shocking without it.”

  “I shock everybody, that has nothing to do with my headwear.”

  His chuckles turned into full laughs and it took him a moment to recover.

  “Surely country rules are not so stringent,” Moira added, still looking discontented. “I can be more casual here, yes?”

  He was not going to answer that particular question, as her definition of casual worried him slightly. “You only really have to wear them in London, I suppose. That is where fashion and propriety matter the most.”

  She suddenly looked a little whimsical. “I don’t remember London.” She shrugged one shoulder. “It would be nice to see it with adult eyes and appreciate it properly.”

  “I will take you,” he said instantly, offering her a smile. He would enjoy taking her about the city, showing her the sights that had fascinated him in his youth, and letting her experience the wonders that could be had there.

  She looked up at him sadly. “When would we be able to do that, Nathan?”

  That shook him out of his pleasant imaginations. She was correct. They were traveling to find her betrothed so that she could be married and start the life she had been waiting years for. They would never be free to associate outside of public settings. He would never be able to show her London or any other place he might want to.

  He knew all of this, and had known it, but even so, the recollection of it made him sad.

  “Perhaps you are right,” he said quietly, not bothering to hide the fact that he was disappointed. “But you must go back at some point, you know. You would have a wonderful time there.”

  “Yes,” she murmured, “I’m sure I would.”

  Her downtrodden expression only served to add to his own sense of regret. It was time for a subject change. “Might I ask you a question now?”

  She smiled at him and nodded. “If you would like.”

  “I was just wondering,” he began, hoping she would be as open with him as he had just been with her, “why you are so insistent on paying for everything. I have been keeping track, Moira, and if we continue going as we have been these past few days, the whole endeavor is going to be very expensive. Are you sure that you have the funds you require for all of this?”

  “I am sure,” she said reassuringly, her smile a bit stiffer now.

  “How?” he asked immediately. “I mean no offense, but from the state of your dresses and your boots, which are rather worn and well-mended, I have a hard time believing it.”

  Moira sighed and looked away, suddenly pensive. />
  Nathan cursed himself and shook his head. “I apologize, Moira. It is none of my business. Forget that I even asked.”

  “No, no, Nathan, there’s no need to apologize,” she said, turning back to him. “I am only trying to think of how to say this properly.” She bit her lip again and looked down for a moment, then brought her eyes back up to his. “I am rich.”

  His disbelief must have shown, for she nodded. “I am not just rich, though. I am what some would call obscenely wealthy.”

  Her earnest words rang true in his mind, but he didn’t see how it was possible.

  “I suppose I need to start at the beginning,” she said on another soft sigh, adjusting herself slightly in the saddle. “My parents were very wealthy. They were at the height of society in London, and I believe were quite the popular set as well. I have very little memory of life in those days, as I was quite young. My brother and I were rather spoiled, I think, but not in a bad way. At any rate, when I was eight years old, my parents and my brother were killed in a terrible boating accident…”

  “Wait,” Nathan interrupted, his heart stilling in his chest, his eyes going wide, “wait. You’re one of those Dennisons?”

  Moira gave him an odd look. “I’m not entirely certain what that means, but I suppose the correct answer would be yes, those Dennisons.”

  He gave a low whistle and ran a hand through his hair. That changed things drastically. Robert and Anne Dennison had been one of the wealthiest families in all of England, not just London, and had been the toast of society right up until the day they died. It was a terrible tragedy to lose a couple that everybody thought so well of, and for them to lose their son and heir as well had set more than a few pairs of eyes to crying. Many forgot that they also had a daughter, but most wondered what would happen to that fortune of theirs now that they were gone, and no one knew.

  Now Nathan did, and suddenly everything began to make sense.

  “Anyway,” Moira continued, graciously ignoring his strange outburst, “I was eight years old when they died, and had no one to really care for me, and no need for a fortune that large. So my father’s solicitor, who was a great friend, decided to put it all into trust until I turned twenty-one, or until I was married, whichever came first. But I was not permitted to speak of it to anyone at all until either of those things occurred, or I would lose it all. Then I was sent away to live with my mother’s older sister Miriam, who was neither a pleasant woman nor any sort of competent mother. But she knew about the inheritance, and she took me in more for the sake of hoping that when I reached the age requirement that she would get something.”

  Nathan listened carefully, knowing that there were things in her answer that she would rush through that were actually very important bits of her past that he wanted to know very much, and he was right. She gave no details of her parents or her brother, and did not speak much about her aunt. The money she talked freely of, which told Nathan that she could have cared less about it.

  “So that is why I have money, but no wardrobe,” she said with forced lightness. “I had to make these dresses myself out of the fabric that Aunt Miriam let me have. I have only had my fortune for a year or so, and I have no idea what to do with it.”

  Now that Nathan could believe rather easily. “So I take it that Charles knew nothing of this?”

  She shook her head. “Not at all. To be fair, I had no idea myself just how large it was. But I have always wondered if he would have known, would he have left the way he did?”

  There was no way to answer that except for saying, “I don’t know.” Nathan would like to think that the answer was no for Moira’s sake, but a man’s pride was a tricky thing. Depending on the sort of man that Charles actually was, it might have made things worse. He was not entirely certain what he would have done, had he been in that situation. It was something he had never had to consider.

  He chanced a question along a different path. “What do you remember about your parents?”

  A more pensive look crossed her face as she thought. “I remember that my father smelled of hay quite a lot, but in a pleasant way, not a smelly one. I remember him reading to me in the library before bed. I remember my mother smiling all the time, and her and Father laughing so hard they could hardly speak over something that I did not understand, but I remember the laughter. I remember going with my mother to a dress shop and watching her try some things on. I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.”

  She smiled at the memory, which made Nathan smile as well.

  “If your parents were who I think they were,” he remarked, “then your mother was widely considered to be one of the most beautiful women in England and your father owned the finest stables in London. They were both the envy of all society.”

  Her smile grew. “Really?”

  He nodded, fighting his desire to laugh at her child-like wonder.

  “That makes a lot of sense. When Uncle George, that’s my father’s solicitor, came to me last year to discuss my holdings, he mentioned the stables, which are under the care of a Mr. Grant. I still own the stables in their entirety, but he recommended I retain Mr. Grant as their caretaker.” She shrugged and smiled. “I had no desire to run stables myself, so I agreed. I do not have a head for finances, so anytime that I can get others to do things for me is a blessing.”

  “Very wise,” Nathan said with a grin. “And what do you remember of your brother?”

  “Robbie was twelve when he died, but he was a horrible tease,” Moira mused with a fond smile. “He used to tug at my curls any chance he could. He would jump out at me from behind corners and doors and it never failed to give me a fright. But he could also make me laugh at anything at any time. I remember one day hiding out in the barn and crying about something that I had been scolded for, and suddenly, there was Robbie. He sat down next to me and put his arm about my shoulder, and not three minutes later, he was tickling me and I giggled until I could not breathe.”

  “You loved him very much, didn’t you?” There really was no question; it was plain to see that she still held very strong affection for him.

  “I worshipped him,” she said softly, her eyes misting a bit. “He was my hero. Everything he did was brilliant in my eyes.” Suddenly she closed her eyes and looked away. “I still miss them very much,” she whispered.

  “I know,” he said gently, putting a hand over hers where it sat on the saddle horn and squeezing it. “I know.”

  Her blue eyes met his dark ones, and he nodded at the questions there. “My father died when I was fifteen, and my mother only six years ago. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think of them.”

  She nodded her thanks, and sniffed back the few tears that had begun welling up.

  “Can I ask you something else, Nathan?” she asked as she wiped at her eyes with her sleeve.

  “Of course.”

  She smiled at his simple response. “You had said that you can speak French fluently.”

  He nodded. “I can.”

  “Did you learn that in the army?”

  Again, he nodded. “It seemed appropriate to learn it as many of our deserters would make for the French coast. There is nothing the French love so much as a British traitor.”

  She shuddered delicately. “I can only imagine. But what I was really wondering is this; would you teach me?”

  He looked at her carefully. “Teach you French?”

  “Yes, if you please,” she said with a smile. “I would love to speak other languages. Besides, would not the mark of a truly refined lady be the ability to speak several?”

  “I suppose,” he said slowly, eyeing her cautiously. “What other languages would you learn?”

  She shrugged. “Oh, probably Italian and German, as is appropriate. Perhaps Latin or Greek. Would those be beneficial?”

  He snorted and shook his head. “Only if you are a scholar or a bluestocking.”

  “So you do not know Latin, then?”

  Now, how
should he answer that? He had spent a good number of years in schools where Latin was very strictly emphasized, but how many common men could say the same? He opted to tell her the truth, even if it was a gross understatement. “I know a little. Enough for church, at least.”

  Nathan braced himself for her accusatory finger as his almost-but-not-quite-the-truth slipped out and brought in religion at the same time, which would undoubtedly be revealed to her as not entirely correct when he found himself suddenly struck by lightning.

  But Moira said nothing, and he relaxed.

  “So, will you teach me French?” she asked with an innocent smile.

  He returned her smile and nodded. “If you wish to learn, Moira, then I would be glad to teach you.”

  Her smile grew into a grin, and she looked positively delighted.

  At that moment, she could have asked him to bring her the moon and he would have found a way to do it.

  “All right, Miss Dennison,” he said in his best teacher voice, which made her giggle, “let us begin. The first thing you need to know is the French alphabet.”

  It was much later when they finally reached an inn to stop for the night. The day had been an odd mix of frustration and amusement as Moira had struggled to grasp the French language. Nathan had been patient and corrected her as gently as he could, but honestly, the simple basics of a language should not have been that difficult for anyone.

  What made the whole endeavor worth it were those rare moments when she exceeded his expectations and surprised herself in the process. She would smile and laugh in elation and he was helpless but to join her. She was learning, however slowly the process was coming, and her pride and sense of accomplishment were nearly as rewarding to Nathan.

  He only prayed she would not need to use her newfound French skills for quite some time.

  “Can I have another turn at telling our story, s’il vous plait?” she asked with a grin, her accent actually quite good.