An Arrangement of Sorts Page 3

  Now that was true. “For me as well. I’m not the most accomplished conversationalist, nor particularly gifted when it comes to a new acquaintance. But I can promise you this, I will never intentionally say anything to wound or offend you. I may do a bit of insulting all on my own by sheer stupidity, but it will never be intentional. I’m afraid I have been teasing you this morning, I thought it might make the day easier.” He shrugged in another silent apology, hoping she would take his meaning.

  She looked up at him, one brow raised, which was oddly charming on her. “Teasing? Already?”

  He nodded and shrugged one shoulder again.

  She bit her lip. “Teasing,” she mused, her eyes clouding in thought. She wrinkled her nose a little as she looked back up at him. “I’m afraid that I am unused to teasing, Mr. Hammond.”

  “Now that is a shame,” he said with a sigh. Unused to teasing. That just would not do. “Well, you shall have to get used to it, Miss Dennison. You will have much of your share before our journey’s end.”

  One corner of her mouth curved up ever so slightly. “And how shall I respond to such teasing?”

  “Oh, return them, by all means, if you can. I can appreciate a fine show of wit and a sharp tongue.”

  “Be warned, Mr. Hammond,” she urged, her eyes dancing, “I sharpen my tongue nightly.”

  He fought the urge to laugh. She was warming to this already. “Consider me warned. And do let me know if you wish to borrow my whetstone.”

  “I’ve brought my own.”

  Now he did laugh, and turned to applaud her. “Bravo, Miss Dennison. You’re already in fine form.”

  She laughed once. “I highly doubt my form has anything to do with it, but thank you.” She seemed a bit impish at the moment, smiling as if she were rather pleased with herself.

  Actually, he was rather pleased with her too, and her form was fine indeed. Her short coat and gown were shades of green and seemed to accentuate her figure quite well, giving her a rather slim waist and trim hips, but were thick and sturdy, perfect for travel. Though it was the middle of April, the mornings still held quite a chill in the air, and he silently praised her wise choices in apparel.

  What Nathan also noticed was that her clothing looked rather well worn. And not just from recent wear, but from a history of use. As if they had been mended many times. And the boots he had been so fortunate as to glimpse earlier also showed very obvious signs of use. Yet she had told him she had enough money to pay him handsomely. Where was that money going to come from and, if she had it, why was she wearing things so well used?

  She also chose not to wear a bonnet, oddly enough. He thought he saw one tied somewhere on her horse, but she was not wearing it. Her hair, which truly was a remarkable color, seemed determined to not be tied up as long tendrils hung down her back where they had slipped from their knot. He had the oddest desire to twirl one of those locks around his finger, just to see if it would curl.

  He shook himself out of his examination and paid attention to where he was riding, which was no doubt a safer course. But of all the things he had just noticed, one of them kept burning in his mind until his curiosity could no longer stand it. “If you’ll forgive my impertinence, Miss Dennison,” he began.

  She arched a brow at him, but said nothing.

  He tried not to smile at her expression, which he understood all too well. He’d been nothing but impertinent since they’d met.

  “Why don’t you wear a bonnet? I can see that you have one, but you do not wear it. I don’t mean to pry, nor to imply that you ought to, I’m only curious.”

  “Oh, is that all? It’s quite simple, really,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t like bonnets.”

  He had to chuckle, mostly out of disbelief. “You don’t… like them? That is all?”

  “That is all. I didn’t start wearing bonnets until recently, and I find that I don’t like them. I hardly like having my hair up at all. I would much rather leave it all down and let the wind carry it as it will, but that is hardly sensible.”

  “No, of course, hardly sensible,” he murmured in absent agreement, forcing himself not to look as amused as he felt.

  “If I must wear my hair up, then I would much prefer to leave the rest of my face exposed to the light, rather than shield it,” she continued, completely unaware of Nathan’s struggle. “I do so love the feeling of warm sunshine on my face.”

  He made a non-committal sound, but kept mostly silent. This was far more inane than he ever imagined a discussion of bonnets could be, should he ever have imagined a discussion of bonnets at all. He couldn’t say he had.

  “I know, I know, it simply isn’t done, and all ladies must wear bonnets,” she said with a slight roll of her eyes, as if he had protested her shocking lack of bonnet-loving. “But honestly, wearing a bonnet is almost akin to putting blinders on a horse! I would have to turn my head all the way around to have a proper look at someone who is directly beside me. I just don’t think it is necessary to restrict myself in that manner just for the sake of my complexion.”

  “You seem to have quite a lovely complexion without worrying about a bonnet, Miss Dennison.” Somehow, the compliment slipped out without Nathan actually thinking about it. It was a true statement; her complexion was one of the loveliest he had ever seen. But to just blurt that sort of thing out was not something Nathan was accustomed to doing. At one time in his life, not so far gone, he’d had quite a way with words.

  She smiled shyly. “Thank you, Mr. Hammond. You are too kind. My aunt was forever bemoaning my paleness and declared it was not healthy, and sent me out of doors so as to darken up. I am afraid it only helped a little. I seem to be doomed to paleness.”

  “So have you never burned, then?” He could have slapped himself for such an inane question.

  She grinned a rather impish grin. “Just once. My aunt had sent me out and forbade me to come in again until she called for me.”

  He returned her smile, no longer scolding himself. “And she forgot?”

  “And she went out. I was out in the garden for the entire day. My poor nose has never been the same again.” She rubbed her nose tenderly as if the memory still burned.

  He leaned forward and peered intently at her pert little nose, as if examining it. “Well, it certainly looks healed well enough to me. But then, I know nothing of noses.”

  She shook her head, still smiling, which delighted him. “You certainly don’t. My aunt assured me it was ruined.” She sighed dramatically. “Quite ruined. She was convinced it destroyed any chance I ever had at being beautiful.”

  “She was mistaken.”

  Moira was more than a touch confused by the sudden change in him. One minute they were throwing insults at each other, the next they were teasing, and the next he was complimenting her? How on earth was she supposed to react?

  She looked away and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, knowing full well she was blushing now. What had come over her? She had been so confident, so sure only moments ago, and now she was shy and retreating and awkward.

  She suspected it had little to do with her and everything to do with the man riding beside her.

  He rode rather well, and even if he had been a real gentleman, he would have been skilled. The time he had spent with the army must have really improved him. He spoke well, he rode well, he obeyed well… she found herself wondering what other skills he had that were not common for a… well, for a common man.

  And she was not too proud to admit that, out of the entire group of men she had seen at that pub, he was the most attractive, for whatever that was worth. He had dark hair that he kept cropped short, though there was slight curl to it, especially where it met his neck. His eyes were darker, and she already felt the power in them. He was tall and broad and muscled, she expected, given the way his rather plain clothing fit him. His skin was tanned, but not especially dark, which was most likely due to working outside. She had seen some men working on a cottage, and wondered
if he had helped them. His boots were clean, but rather well used. She suspected they were his best, and she would not say anything about it. How could she, considering what she herself was wearing?

  She only had three dresses and this was her sturdiest, not to mention her most comfortable. She had brought the others along, but she did not know what sort of washing she would be able to do along the way, if any at all. She could certainly mend them, if it came down to it.

  Some day she would have to find a town with a proper dressmaker, now that she had the funds.

  “Well, now that we have begun, Miss Dennison, perhaps you would care to inform me as to our destination and anything else you may find relevant for me to know?”

  His low voice, apparently unaffected, cut into her thoughts and she was grateful for the distraction. “Yes, you are quite right, Mr. Hammond.” She held her breath, knowing she could not keep it from him any longer, and that this could change everything. “The last information I had was that Charles was heading for Preston.”

  “Preston?” he cried.

  “I know,” she said morosely, knowing just how impossible it sounded. “And I don’t even know that he is still there.”

  Nathan bit back an entire string of curses and struggled for calm. He rubbed his brow with one hand and forced himself to exhale slowly. “Well, what do you know, if I might be so bold?”

  She looked over at him, and her expression slightly mollified him. She was exhausted, even though they had just started. This had been weighing on her for some time and she knew exactly what she had just asked of him. “Should I tell you the whole story, Mr. Hammond? Or would you prefer to have no personal information, merely a destination?”

  It was said without malice, but that did not make her words any less stinging. He had been wishing only for an endpoint, and that was all that had mattered. He had not even considered what this would mean for her. “You may tell me whatever you wish to, Miss Dennison,” he said softly.

  She nodded and looked away. For a long moment, she said nothing. But he was in no hurry. If they were going to Preston, there would be quite enough time for everything, and they would no doubt run out of things to talk about before they were even halfway there.

  “I was fifteen when Charles Allenford came to live with his cousins in Gillam,” she began in a voice that hardly sounded like her own. “He was a little older than I was, but we quickly became friends. Both of us had lost our parents and were living with relatives. We were lonely. But suddenly, we had each other.”

  Nathan watched her carefully, but her expression was surprisingly devoid of emotion.

  “We became betrothed when I was nineteen,” she continued, thankfully skipping extraneous details. “We decided not to be married until we could properly afford to do so. Charles was determined to provide for me.” Here she broke off with a small snort of derision, which he did not understand, but made no comment. “Around my twentieth birthday, Charles decided that he could not make any sort of living in Gillam. He was going to try for Preston, but would seek work of any kind along the way. He wrote to me faithfully for three months, and then nothing. I have not heard from him since.”

  A multitude of thoughts flooded Nathan’s mind. The first was the oddity of the choice of Preston as a destination for one living in the southern part of the country. The second was the sudden stop of letters to Moira. Two questions sprang to mind: Why would a man be willing to go so far from the woman he supposedly loved if all he wanted was to provide for her, and why would he stop writing to his betrothed if he loved her so much to go to the opposite end of the country?

  Nothing Moira was telling him made sense, but he could not ask the questions he wanted to. He doubted she had answers herself.

  “How long since the last letter?” he asked as gently as he could.

  “Eighteen months, perhaps a week besides.”

  “And his family is not looking for him?” That was another point that bothered him.

  “His uncle died shortly after he left and the cousins decided not to remain, and moved their mother to the coast. I have not heard from them.” She sighed and looked up at him with a wry smile. “I know it is a great deal to ask of you, Mr. Hammond, but are you still willing to help me find him?”

  It was, as he always knew, a foolish trip by a young romantic with no notion of how the world worked. The likelihood of any of this working out in her favor was far less than probable. Frankly, it would end badly. It would hardly be worth his time to continue on with this excursion. It was certainly not something he should be doing.

  And yet…

  “Of course, Miss Dennison. I am at your disposal.”

  Chapter Three

  “We should be married.”

  Nathan jerked, startling Mercury so badly he sprang ahead suddenly. Once Nathan had his horse under control again, he turned back to Moira, who still sat primly on her mount, watching him. “I beg your pardon?” he managed to ask in a voice that was quite a bit higher in pitch than it had been in his mind.

  Moira seemed confused by his behavior, as if her words had been perfectly sound. Then she stopped short, her eyes widening perceptibly and her hands shot to her mouth.

  “I meant as our story!” she cried, her cheeks flaming. “When we meet people. To protect our reputations. Oh, it made perfect sense in my head!” She covered her face with both of her hands.

  Now that Nathan’s heart had stopped racing so frantically and he’d caught his breath, he had the oddest desire to laugh. “I take it your thoughts went ahead of your mouth?”

  She nodded, still keeping her hands over her face.

  He allowed himself a chuckle. “It happens to the best of us. Now, if you would please remove your hands from your face. I would feel much better about your riding abilities if you could see where you were going.”

  She slowly dropped her hands and looked up at him, her cheeks still delightfully pink. “I am so sorry.”

  He smiled at her kindly. “Think nothing of it. I actually had that thought as well, but it was hardly decent to bring up.”

  “Wonderful,” she muttered, her eyes turning colder. “You are accusing me of being indecent again. I have had quite the day, it seems.”

  He groaned and pointed at her. “Stop putting words into my mouth, Miss Dennison. I did not say you were being indecent. I said it would hardly be decent for me, as a man, to bring up the idea of a marriage between us. There is a quite distinct difference.”

  “Yes, I suppose there is, you are right,” she grumbled. “Again, my apologies.”

  “I think you should stop apologizing for everything you do, Miss Dennison. Not everything you think offends me actually offends me.”

  She nodded with a grateful smile.

  “It’s also quite irritating,” he added under his breath.

  Her suddenly narrowed eyes told him that she heard him, and he quickly changed the subject. “As I mentioned, I had that thought as well.”

  “We could just as easily be brother and sister,” she interrupted quickly, her cheeks flushing again.

  He silenced her with a look. “Who would look at us and allow for that story, Miss Dennison? We look nothing alike.”

  She frowned, but said nothing.

  “The only logical choice to save our reputations and allow us to keep looking would be if we pretend marriage between us.”

  She nodded at his words, but still said nothing.

  “Miss Dennison,” he said quietly, more than slightly unnerved by her sudden silence. “You are the one who brought this up. Are you having second thoughts?”

  “I think I am up to about fourth thoughts at the moment,” she answered in a very small voice, avoiding his eyes.

  He was startled, he had to admit. This was not the sort of reaction he had expected Moira to have. She didn’t think twice about marching into a pub in a town she did not know to find a man she had never met to tell him, not ask him, what he was going to do, but she became shy and retreating up
on reconsidering the prospect of a pretend marriage?

  “I can understand your reluctance,” he began slowly, praying he was going about this in the correct manner. “If we proceed with this, it will certainly place us in situations that neither of us have faced before, and would probably be very uncomfortable due to the level of familiarity that people will assume of us.”

  Moira nodded silently, swallowing with difficulty.

  “But I think that you see as well as I that it is the safest course.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, still not looking at him. “It’s the only way we can accomplish what we must and maintain our reputations.”

  “I don’t wish to add to your discomfort, Miss Dennison,” he started, wondering how to approach the idea he had formulating. “I know that we had a bit of a rough beginning...”

  Her eyes finally met his and she managed a weak smile. “I hope you understand that this is not about you, Mr. Hammond. I would feel reluctant pretending marriage with any man.”

  He returned her smile. “Well, thank you for that, but yes, I did gather as much. I have an idea that may help the situation, if it is agreeable to you.”

  “At this moment, I am willing to try almost anything to make this more comfortable,” she offered, sounding relieved.

  He was not entirely sure she would be willing to try his suggestion, but it was all he could think up. “I think that it would help matters a great deal if we were more familiar with each other in private. For example, no more of being Miss Dennison and Mr. Hammond. We could just be Nathan and Moira. It might allow us to be more comfortable with each other, so that when we are expected to appear close, it would not be so awkward.” He held his breath and waited for the tirade to begin, afraid to look at her.

  To his astonishment, he saw that she was nodding to herself. “I think that would be a very sensible thing to do.”

  “You do?”

  She grinned. “Taken you by surprise, have I? Now, that is refreshing, Nathan.”