An Arrangement of Sorts Read online

  “Yes, I have, though not formally.” Moira turned and curtseyed properly, making Gwen smile even more. “A pleasure, Mrs. Allenford.”

  “Oh, please, call me Gwen,” she called. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see to William now before Kitty goes mad.”

  Nathan was beginning to feel very out of place, and wished most heartily to be anywhere else. He was no longer needed, and certainly not wanted. He started to shift away, when he heard, “I would like you both to meet Nathan, who has been helping me to find you.” With a groan, he turned and forced himself to smile just a bit, as would be polite.

  The brothers shook hands with him, and he was pleased to find that both had a firm grip with strong hands. They exchanged pleasantries, and Nathan was relieved that neither man asked after his last name. He could not be certain who would know his name this far north, and revealing that bit of information now would not be wise.

  “Well, I think we all have much to talk about,” Peter said with a grin as he rubbed his hands together, “and it is rather chilly yet this morning. Miss Dennison, would you care to come in?”

  She smiled and took his arm. “I should be glad to.” She turned back to Nathan and for the first time in many minutes, looked uncertain.

  “I will be heading back towards town, Miss Dennison,” he told her, backing away with a bow.

  She disengaged herself from Peter’s arm and came towards him. “You’re not leaving now, are you?” she asked, her eyes full of concern and a touch of fear.

  How touching, he thought bitterly. She remembers me.

  He smiled blandly, even as his eyes raked her face hungrily as if for the last time. “Not until the morning. I will not leave without saying goodbye, don’t worry.” He raised his eyes to the men behind her, then looked back down. “You seem to be well taken care of. I trust I don’t need to have you fetched back to the boarding house tonight?”

  “No, I’m sure they can see me there,” she murmured, her eyes wide and slightly confused. “And I will arrange for your reward to be waiting you this afternoon at the bank we passed on the way in.”

  He nodded, instantly ignoring her words. There would be no reward for him. Not even a monetary one. She could use it however she liked. They could.

  They. It was no longer Moira and Nathan. Now it was Moira and Charles.

  “Until tomorrow, then,” he said stepping back and bowing once more. He needed to leave now, before it was too late. Before it hurt any more.

  She curtseyed a little, still watching him intently, not saying anything further.

  He could not bear to have her look at him so, could not abide the potency and beauty of those eyes a moment longer. He turned and walked away, feeling as though he were leaving his very soul behind him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Moira lay awake in her bed that night, feeling more than a touch of confusion, but a great deal of relief as well. Her reunion with Charles had been better than she could have hoped for. He was exactly the same as she had remembered, except for being larger and stronger, which was a fine improvement. They had talked and laughed for most of the day, and she had truly enjoyed reminiscing with him. They never spoke of marriage; the word had not even been said except for when she had asked about the money, but she was in no hurry. It had been so long since they had been together that some period of time to get reacquainted would be necessary before either of them could comfortably agree to finally marry.

  She got along splendidly with Gwen, his sister-in-law, and adored his nephew William, who was only a year in age. Charles’ brother Peter was actually a very reserved man and had hardly said anything once they were inside, but he was certainly agreeable in spite of it all. She was fitting in very well with Charles’ family, and she could not deny that she was happy to be with him again.

  And yet she could not sleep. She was fatigued, as they had spent a good portion of the afternoon out in the city. Charles had wanted to show her everything he could and she had enjoyed the day immensely. He was right; Preston had many things to offer. She could be very happy here without exerting too much effort. But with all the contentment she was feeling, still sleep would not come.

  She released a huff of frustration and sat up, rubbing at her eyes. She knew the trouble.

  Nathan.

  She had not seen him since she had gone inside with the Allenfords, not even when she had gone walking about the town. Her first stop had been to request that the banker draw up a note for five thousand pounds, which caused his brows to shoot so high that she feared they would fly off of his face entirely. But once she showed him the letter she had procured from Uncle George, who was a rather well known man in London, there was no trouble at all. She informed the banker to expect a man asking after the reward sometime that day, praying there would be no difficulties about it. She still knew very little of the fortune she had inherited, and had yet to tell Charles of it. For some reason, she wanted to hold that information back a little longer.

  It had been very peculiar, not seeing Nathan for almost an entire day. It was unsettling, at the very least. But she had it on good authority that he was still here, which was of some comfort. She had doubted his words to her that morning when he said that he would not leave without saying goodbye. That moment had felt very much like a farewell in its own right.

  Though the time was drawing rather nigh, she was not ready to say goodbye to him. Not that she had much of a choice in the matter. She was engaged, and to a man she cared a great deal for. Beyond that, Nathan was not suitable for a woman of her apparent rank and fortune. Charles could barely be considered such, but if what Nathan had said was true, that society would be a much harsher critic of her than she would like, then she could not risk its aggravation further by marrying so poorly.

  That was hardly a reason at all. It was a paltry excuse, and something that she felt dirty for even thinking. What did she care about society and their dictates on whom she could or could not have? But, in spite of her opinions, it was something that she really should not ignore.

  And she needed to gather all of the reasons that she could, poor or not, to support her decision.

  She had maintained her distance sufficiently well, she thought, save for that little incident the day before. They had been merely amiable acquaintances, with no hint of what lay beneath the surface. Tomorrow would be the severing of their relationship in its entirety, and there would be no more distance from anyone. There would be no need for it.

  Why then was she so restless tonight?

  She shook her head and got out of the bed, sliding her feet into her slippers and pulling on the wrap Mrs. Farrow had left for her. The kind, middle aged woman who ran the boarding house had been so comforting last night when she came up to assist Moira herself. She had offered her services in any way that she could, and even hinted that, should she have wished it, she might be able to find some warm milk down in the kitchens at night.

  That would soothe her mind and relax her enough for sleep.

  She tiptoed as quietly as she could down the hall, hoping not to disturb any of her neighboring guests. The stairs were rather worn and in some need of repair, and were destined to creak horribly, but if she stayed to the right side of them, she would be safe. Gingerly she trod, wincing with every step.

  A faint light from the taproom stopped her in her place and she held her breath, pressed her back to the wall, and slowly peered around the corner into the main area.

  Alone at a table near the fire, the same place he had been this morning, sat Nathan. He had a drink before him, but even from her position, Moira could tell that he had not touched it. He just stared at it, one hand turning it absently on the table.

  He looked exhausted, much more so than he had been this morning. His eyes were vacant, hardly blinking at all. The man who normally looked so strong and vibrant without any effort looked as though he carried burdens far too great for him. It hurt Moira to see him like this, and she wished she knew what she could do to make
those shadows disappear.

  She watched him for what seemed an age, drinking in the sight of him. Aching and despondent though he appeared, he still was as strong and dear to her, he still made her heart tremble. She watched as he put his head into his hands, ground his eyes with his palms. It took all of her willpower to keep from flying to his side and holding him, comforting him, confiding in him…

  But she could not. She should not.

  After a few moments, she could bear no more. She turned silently and made her way back up to the room, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Strong, immovable Nathan was miserable. And she knew that, somehow, she was the cause. How could she live with that? How would she bear that in the coming days? Surely they could still be friends. Surely…

  She shook her head frantically, interrupting her thoughts. It was impossible. For her part, she could not go back to being merely friends with the man she loved as much as him.

  Tomorrow she would say goodbye to him.

  Tomorrow would be the beginning of the rest of her life.

  Without him.

  She closed the door to her room and flung herself onto her bed, sobbing into her pillow for what she was about to lose.

  Nathan was ready to go before the sun came up, but he was not about to wake Moira up to say goodbye to her. Her sleep was troubling enough; intentionally shortening it would be cruel. Especially since it was just for him.

  He could just leave now. He could leave her a note explaining…

  But no, even as he thought it, he shook his head. She deserved more than that, and, as much as it would hurt, he had to see her again. He had to say goodbye properly.

  Or as properly as proper strangers do. His version of a proper goodbye with her would probably scandalize those who were paragons of propriety, even if she had not been engaged.

  And she was definitely engaged, there was no maybe about it. She would be Mrs. Charles Allenford. Mrs. Charles bloody Allenford, who was untouchable to him. No amount of money, no loftiness of title could change that. She would be happy with him. That was all that mattered, really.

  He was tightening his bedroll onto Mercury’s back when he heard a noise from the door, and he turned.

  Of course, it was Moira.

  She was dressed, albeit rather plainly, and her hair was down completely. Her eyes were wide and somber, and it was all he could do to remain where he stood. How many mornings had she looked like this and he had taken it for granted?

  “You are up rather early,” she said softly, watching him adjust the saddle now.

  “It would be better to get an early start,” he said gruffly. “I have a long way to go.”

  “Yes, you do,” she murmured. She inhaled quickly. “Nathan, I don’t know how I can thank you for all you have done.”

  He could not bear her gratitude, not when he felt the way he did. He shut his eyes tightly, and forced himself to breathe. “It was nothing, Miss Dennison.”

  “On the contrary. I can never repay you for this.”

  He opened his eyes and turned to face her. “Be happy,” he said plainly, meeting her gaze. “That is what you deserve. That is payment enough.”

  He saw her swallow hard and felt his own throat tighten in response. This was only going to get worse. He turned to mount Mercury, and had his foot in the stirrups when he heard his name from her again, and he hesitated.

  “One last question before you go, if I may?” she asked, and he could almost hear her biting her lip.

  Half of him screamed to refuse, but he knew it was fruitless. “Of course.”

  “Why were you really sorry for kissing me?”

  Of all the questions she could have asked him, she had to ask him that one. “The truth?”

  “I would appreciate that.”

  He closed his eyes, and slowly released a breath. What was the use of pretending anymore? She wanted the truth from him, and he was going to give it to her, no matter the cost. “Because I knew instantly that I would spend the rest of my life comparing any other kiss to that of Mrs. Charles Allenford, and I knew none would be able to measure up.”

  It was a long moment before she responded. “Oh…”

  He shook his head at himself and mounted the horse, knowing he needed to leave before things got worse. He turned Mercury towards the road, then looked back down at Moira, whose eyes were shining with tears. How could he leave her?

  “Moira,” he started, his voice more of a croak.

  “Oh! The ring, of course!” she cried hastily, her fingers scrambling to remove it from her hand. It took an awkwardly long moment, but eventually she had it off and held it up to him.

  He opened his palm and she dropped it in, and it suddenly felt as though he carried the weight of his world in his hand. He hadn‘t thought to ask her for it, hadn’t even considered it. He wouldn’t have missed it. He stared at the ring, the perfect circle of gold that had been a symbol of everything he had ever wanted, and it had been hers from the very beginning of their journey. He didn’t want it back. He wanted her to keep it. He wanted to throw it to the wind. He wanted…

  He closed his hands around it, and swallowed back everything he felt. He looked at Moira, letting his eyes say whatever they would to her. “It has been an honor having you as a wife, Moira Dennison.”

  She blinked back tears and he saw one trickle down her cheek. “It has been an honor to have you as a husband.”

  They stared at each other for a moment, and then Nathan cleared his throat and straightened, shifting his eyes away. “Goodbye, Miss Dennison.”

  “Goodbye, Mr. Hammond,” she whispered.

  He nudged his heels into Mercury, but stopped before they had gone more than three feet. Something was tugging at his mind and his heart, and he could not leave Moira forever without asking her, without knowing the truth. He turned slightly in the saddle and met those eyes once more. “That night that I kissed you, you smiled. Was that for the benefit of our crowd, or was it for me?”

  She looked startled for a moment, then smiled a small, sad smile. “Does it matter?”

  Did it? Did it really, considering everything? “No,” he said softly, shaking his head a bit. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.” He touched the brim of his hat, and turned back, kicking the horse again.

  As he started off, he heard something from behind him, something so soft it could have carried on the wind, something that he was undoubtedly not supposed to hear:

  “It was for you.”

  With a groan and shutting his eyes as fiercely tight as he could make them, he pushed Mercury on harder, faster, racing away from Moira, from Preston, from everything he had cared about in the last week. It was time to start over, to move forward, to press on, all by going back.

  Life would go on as it had gone on before.

  However that had been.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Three days later, Nathan found himself in a place he had never in a million years expected he would be. He had ridden hard from Preston, stopping only for sleep and brief meals. He left before sunrise and rested long after the sun had set. If he could have raced ahead of his thoughts, he would have. But they were quick, his thoughts, and kept pace with him rather handily. They were his only companions, and received their share of his wrath.

  Nights were the worst of all. He could not control his mind as he slept. While he used to envy those who dreamed, now he wished for his dreamless sleeps. He yearned for the nothingness he once knew.

  The day after he had left Preston, he had known his course. He would not return to his estate and tenants yet, that would be far too much solitude for his current state of mind and being. There was one more thing he had yet to accomplish before he could fully move forward.

  Dirty, tired, miserable as he was, he stood at the front door of a fine looking London town home, number twenty-one Russell Square, to be exact, and though he was determined to not leave the city until he had accomplished the task before him, he balked at it.

  Of all ho
rrid things, this was the chief of them. He had suffered too much already, why put himself through more pain? There was too much, it had been too long, it would be better left alone.

  But he could not turn away. Moira had told him he had to do this, that it was imperative. And he was helpless to resist anything that Moira had instructed him to do.

  He swallowed painfully and knocked on the door. He had to wait only a brief moment before a man appeared, balding and shuffling, but sturdy enough.

  “Can I help you, sir?” he asked importantly, as if he were trying to be imperious. He was not succeeding.

  Nathan tried not to smile. “The Earl of Beverton to see…”

  “Nathan?”

  The butler turned in surprise and Nathan looked past him to find the master of the house standing there, looking as if he had seen a strange apparition.

  “Hello, Spencer,” Nathan managed, his eyes starting to sting a little. His younger brother, once his closest friend. He had not seen him in over six years. He was fully a man now, tall and strapping and so much older than he remembered.

  “It’s all right, Fisher,” Spencer said weakly, laying a hand on the butler’s shoulder. “This is my brother. I’ll take it from here.”

  “Very good, sir,” he replied with a bow. He turned back to Nathan, and bowed to him as well. “My lord.” Then he shuffled out of sight to places unknown within the house.

  Spencer stared at Nathan for a long moment, his eyes wide.

  “You said you hoped I would know how it feels to lose the woman I love,” Nathan said, his voice breaking in spite of his attempts to prevent it. “Now I have, and I understand.”

  In an instant, his brother stepped forward and threw his arms around him, in plain view of anybody that might have been passing in the streets. “I didn’t mean it, Nate. I never meant any of it. I’m sorry.”

  Nathan clamped his arms around his brother and held him close, allowing the burning in his eyes turn into tears, and letting the tears fall. “I’m sorry, too, Spencer. I’m so sorry.”