An Arrangement of Sorts (17 page)

“Worried about what?” Nathan asked, leaning forward slightly.

Mr. Francis sat back, shaking his head. “I could not say. We did not discuss matters beyond our business, but I wondered if it might be a woman.”

Again, Moira’s hold on Nathan’s hand flinched. If she got much tighter, he would not have use of it for quite some time. “A woman, eh? But you did not see one with him?”

“No, but as I said, we were strictly business. But when a man looks worried about something, chances are that it is a woman, is it not, sir?” he commented with a light laugh.

Nathan returned it half-heartedly. “You could be right, Mr. Francis. You could be right. What do you think, darling? It’s about time for Charles to settle down, I think.”

“Yes,” Moira said with a smile that did not reach her eyes. “Yes, I think he should. I do hope I get to meet her before he does, however. A sister must give her blessing, you know.”

Mr. Francis nodded sagely. “That I do. My own sister threatened to have me drawn and quartered if I did not wed someone she approved of. But I showed her.” He grinned at the both of them. “I married her best friend.”

They all laughed and Nathan pushed off from the table. “Well, I think you should go back up to bed, Hannah. I will try to get some particulars from Mr. Francis so that we may expedite our search for Charles.”

She nodded without argument, even silently, which was an even bigger indication to Nathan that she was troubled. He led her back over to the stairs up to their room and turned her towards him. “Are you all right?” he asked softly, looking at her closely.

Again, she only nodded.

Nathan lifted her chin to look at him. “Really?”

She let out a breath slowly. “I don’t know yet. Fair enough?”

He smiled a little, tapping the underside of her chin. “Fair enough.” He moved a hand to her hair, which hung so beautifully down her back, and twirled a few strands a bit. “I think you are right
, y
ou should leave your hair down on occasion. It suits you.”

She smiled and a slight blush reached her cheeks. “We are in public, Mr. Rupert.”

For a moment, he had forgotten that. But now he looked around briefly and saw not a few eyes sneaking in their direction. “So we are,” he murmured, turning back to her. “They think we are adorable.”

She snorted lightly. “Not at all. They think we should stop now.”

“Only because it makes them jealous.”

“Or nauseated.”

He restrained a laugh and gave her a mock-severe look. “Now is that any way for a wife to speak to her husband?”

“It is if the husband is being idiotic.”

He rolled his eyes a bit and smiled at her fondly. It delighted him to see her return it. Unable to help himself, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead, lingering just a touch longer than he meant to. “Good night, darling,” he whispered against her skin.

Almost too softly for him to hear, she replied, “Good night.” Then, without meeting his eyes, she went up the stairs, their fingers separating at last.

As Nathan watched her go, he clenched his hand almost involuntarily, then looked down at it. Her hand had fit so perfectly in his; they had felt so natural together. He had not even minded her death grip on him; instead he had found himself oddly enjoying every minute.

He closed his hand and walked back to the table where Mr. Francis sat, watching him in amusement.

“You are obviously very attached to your wife, Mr. Rupert,” he said with no small amount of humor.

Nathan thought about denying it, but what was the use? He knew the truth, and Mr. Francis had seen it. “I am, Mr. Francis,” he said in a low voice, though he could not help smiling as he did so. “It would seem she holds an odd sort of power over me.”

“That is as it should be, Mr. Rupert,” he laughed as he toasted him. “As it should be.”

The next morning was a relatively silent affair as the two rode away from the inn. Nathan had not slept well in the straw of the stables, and Moira had not slept well in the comfort of the bed. The cause for such awkwardness was lost on Nathan, but something needed to be done about it. The silence was eating at him, and he felt time weighing heavily on them both.

“There is something else I want you to know about me.”

Nathan looked at Moira in disbelief. There were about a thousand other things he wanted to know about her, and she only thought of one? He wet his lips and then said, “I’m afraid to encourage you, but go on.”

She smirked at him, then sat up straighter. “When I was a little girl, I thought I was going to grow up to be the Queen of England.”

Nathan could not help the bark of laughter that escaped him at her response.
That
was something she thought he needed to know?

“Why are you laughing at that?” she said, even as she grinned. “It is not so uncommon a thought.”

“No, I am sure it’s not!” he laughed. “I can just see you practicing your coronation and greeting your loyal subjects.”

She sniffed at him. “I did, and I was very good. I would have been a wonderful, wise, and benevolent queen, adored by all.”

He shook his head, smiling. “So when did you realize that you would not become queen?”

She glared at him in a very regal fashion. “Who says that I won’t?”

He snickered, which made her giggle, and soon they were both laughing, for reasons they could not explain.

“Oh, I needed a good laugh,” Nathan said on a sigh. “Thank you for that.”

“You are more than welcome,” Moira replied cheerily, “but that was not why I brought it up. I just thought you might want to know what Little Moira imagined herself doing.”

“I did want to know, actually,” he said with real honesty. “I wondered if you were the princess type of little girl or if you favored being a knight of the realm.”

She smiled. “While the action of the knight of the realm was appealing, I was always more interested in the fashion of a queen. My brother was content to play the knight, and took to defending me quite seriously. I never so much as stubbed a toe.”

“I should hope not!” Nathan replied in a very shocked tone. “A knight who cannot protect his queen is a useless fellow indeed! No bruising or bloodshed may come to the queen, or else the knight who failed his duty must lose his head.”

Moira laughed and looked over at him with delight. “Were you a knight of the realm, then?”

“No, alas, I was far less scrupled,” he said with a sad shaking of his head. “There were no knights in the Hammond household.”

“So what, then?” she asked, obviously determined to make him share as well. “What did little Nathan spend his days pretending?”

He ducked his head, suddenly shy, which made her smile grow even wider. “Oh, come now, Nathan,” she scolded playfully. “It cannot be any worse than me honestly thinking I would grow up to be a queen.”

“Well, all right,” he said, resigned to the fact that she would not give up until she knew all. “Do you know the legend of Robin of the Hood?”

“The one who robbed from the rich to feed the poor?” she asked with a furrowed brow.

He nodded. “The very same. I imagined myself to be Robin, battling the evils of Prince John and his minions, determined to protect King Richard’s honor…” He trailed off with a smile as he reminisced. “Spencer and I would play in the woods behind our home for hours on end. Our father would have to come out and find us or we would never have eaten. We insisted on finding food in the woods, but he used to say, ‘Even outlaws can eat at a table,’ and so we would.”

Moira pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Why do I get the feeling that you received your fair share of scrapes and bruises?”

He grinned widely. “But of course I did! One could not be Robin of the Hood without climbing a great many trees, and one cannot become adept at climbing a great many trees without falling out of an even greater number. And then there was the archery, and sword fighting, and carriage seizing…”

“My goodness,” Moira said with a laugh, “you must have been filthy little urchins indeed!”

“We were,” he moaned. “Mother would be so appalled with the pair of us. She would call for Mrs. Whitcomb, the housekeeper, and set the task to her of getting us presentable again.” He shuddered at the memory. “I don’t believe my skin will ever be the same after the scrubbing she gave me.”

“I’m afraid that I cannot pity you,” she said, shaking her head. “You have not known the pain of a scrubbing until you were receiving one from my aunt Miriam. I made the mistake of following one of the neighbors’ dogs on one of the days I was allowed to leave the garden, and when I returned to the house, she was so enraged she made me strip right then and there and set me in a washtub of freezing water she had used for dishes and scrubbed my skin with the same bristle brush.”

Nathan’s amusement vanished in a sharp burst of pain. “Wait a moment. One of the days you were
allowed
to leave the garden?”

She shrugged without emotion. “Most days I was not permitted to leave our property. That changed when I turned sixteen, but by that time I had nowhere to go, so most of the time I remained anyway.”

“Moira, was your aunt… I mean… did she…?” He could not bring himself to complete an entire sentence, to even formulate the questions he had swirling about. There was too much horror involved in them.

“I would rather not recall those days, Nathan,” she said softly, her expression pained. “It is done and I am here, well and whole.”

“Please,” he begged in a low voice
,
“I only wish to help.” He could not explain it, but at the moment, he
had
to know what she had endured.

She took a deep breath, and released it slowly. “Very well, but only if I can say it quickly, and without interruption, and then never speak of it again.”

“I promise. Never again.” He held his breath, wondering if he would be able to bear whatever it was she was going to share with him
, b
ut if she had borne it, then he could bear to hear the telling of it.

After a moment’s hesitation, Moira began to speak rapidly and in low tones that Nathan, even with his excellent hearing, had to strain to catch. “When I came to live with my aunt, the only thing that prevented her from complete neglect was the inheritance she knew I was to receive. I became her servant girl in every respect, except for wages. I spent many nights locked in a closet instead of my bedroom, which was not much bigger, because of some childish mistake I had made. I received beatings on regular occasions, and most of the time I did not know the reason, not that Aunt Miriam required a reason. We never discussed my family unless she was ranting about the inconvenience of their deaths. All the good memories I had of them I held onto with all that I had. When I had been well-behaved enough to venture out, I was spurned by most, and those that did not instead chose to mock me. I suppose my aunt had spread some rumors about me and no one doubted them.”

She finally took an audible breath and swallowed. “My aunt died almost three years ago, and that is the end of it.”

Nathan could not believe what he had heard. He had figured that her childhood had not been pleasant, given the losses she sustained so early, and from what she had already told him about her aunt, but he had never imagined anything so cruel. How many nights had she cried in the darkness of her closet or bedroom, wishing for any other life but her own? How many injuries had she sustained without deserving any of them? How much had she suffered in silence with no end in sight?

Abruptly, he reined Mercury in, stopping in the middle of the road. Moira turned to look at him, stopping Flora as well. “Nathan? What is it?”

He dismounted and walked over to her without speaking. He reached up and took her waist, then lifted her off of the horse and set her down on the ground. Before she could say anything, he pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“I am so sorry,” he said quietly, holding her close.

Slowly, hesitantly, she brought her arms around him. “It happened a long time ago, Nathan.”

He nodded against her, his heart still beating too hard for comfort. “I know. But there was no one to hug you then. Now there is.”

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