An Arrangement of Sorts (20 page)

The silence was deafening.

They had not said a single word in hours, not even to themselves. Moira kept her mouth firmly shut, eyes strictly forward, and her jaw was clenched so tightly that her teeth were beginning to ache. But she refused to give in. Why bother forging a friendship any deeper when it was not going to last anyway? It was hardly worth the effort from either of them.

She glanced over at Nathan surreptitiously again
,
she had been doing so every now and then for a while but he had not caught her yet
,
and saw that he still looked the same: slightly troubled, weary, and somehow still very handsome. She jerked her eyes back to the road. No, he was
not
handsome.

Of course, he is
, scolded the little voice in her mind.
Some would call that a gross insult to find him merely handsome
.

She wished that voice would be silent as well. She did not need any more distraction than she already had, and when her own mind was fighting against her will, things got more than a little harried inside.

A noise from up ahead caused her to lift her eyes a bit. There was a carriage off to the side of the road, one wheel obviously broken, and three people stood outside of it.

She looked more closely, and saw that one, an old woman, sank onto a piece of luggage, looking very tired and haggard.

The other two were men, and they were arguing about something, and rather loudly at that. The younger of the men was waving his arms dramatically, while the older one stood with his arms folded, shaking his head.

“What on earth?” Nathan muttered from beside her. He nudged Mercury on a bit faster, and she matched them. “Can we help you?” he asked as they approached.

The older man turned, looking vastly relieved. “I certainly hope so, sir. We’ve broken an axle, as you see, and I’m trying to explain that there is nothing I can do, but it’s pointless. I haven’t a clue what this frog-eater is saying. Ruddy fool only speaks a handful of English words, if you can call them that. Sounds like a bunch of French gibberish to my ears.”

Nathan’s brows shot up and he turned to the younger man, who was red faced and seething. The man instantly started rambling off a stream of angry French, waving his hands just as vividly as before. Nathan dismounted and tried to calm him, in his own excellent French, but the man was not about to listen. He continued to rant and rave quite forcefully.

It was almost comedic to witness. There was Nathan, trying to be calm and placating, but obviously fast losing patience; then there was the Frenchman, angry and agitated and determined to be anything but calm, and interrupting Nathan so often
that
Moira doubted Nathan completed a full sentence. And then there was the coachman, who was contentedly leaning against his broken carriage, smoking his pipe.

The only person left was that old woman, ignored by the group, sitting all alone behind the lot of them, staring off at nothing. She was dressed from head to toe in black, with the obvious veils of mourning. The lines on her face were not particularly deep, but there were quite a few. Her eyes were dim and downcast, and no one marked her.

Moira heaved a sigh. She would have to reveal a particular secret that she had never intended to. Things were getting to be ridiculous. They were never going to solve anything if this incessant bickering was going to continue. She slid as delicately as she could off of Flora, and marched past the arguing men towards the old woman.

“
Bonjour
,” she said gently as she approached, taking a seat on the trunk next to her. “
Je m’appelle Moira. Les hommes sont impossibles, n’est-ce pas?
”

The old woman’s eyes lit up and she turned to face Moira. “
Oui, Mademoiselle Moira! Ils n’
écoutent jamais!
”

Immediately they began a conversation filled with laughter and venting frustrations, all in rapid French. The old woman, Nicole, was traveling with her grandson, Louis, who had inherited his father’s temper, and all she wanted was to find some place to rest her feet, but he would not listen to her. They were headed to London so she might stay for a time with a younger sister, who was married to an English baron, and she was exhausted already.

Moira nodded, then took Nicole’s hand and turned to face the men, only to find all three of them staring at her in stunned silence, mouths gaping identically. “Nicole does not care about the coach or anything else,” she announced to the silent gathering. “She just wants a place to rest her feet before they push on to London.”

Nathan closed his mouth and turned to Louis, and spoke to him quickly, then turned to his horse. “I am going to fetch a hack to take the two down to the village we passed not too long ago. They should be able to find boarding there.”

Moira nodded and relayed the message to Nicole, who nodded gratefully, then glared at her grandson, who started sputtering.

“Stay here,” Nathan ordered brusquely as he looked at Moira.

She gave him a look of her own. “Where am I going to go, Nathan?”

He fought for control as he mounted Mercury, and glared right back at her. “Devil if I know,” he gritted out.

Her eyes flashed and she opened her mouth to argue, but he spun the horse away and rode off at a gallop, kicking up a great deal of dust as he went.

Moira made a noise of frustration, and then felt an old hand take hers. She turned to see Nicole, full of understanding, smiling at her. “
Les hommes
,” she sighed, shaking her head as she patted her hand.

“
Oui
,” Moira replied with a shake of her own head. “
Les hommes
.”
 

Nathan was not gone very long before he was back with the news that a hack was on its way. He was ready to move on immediately, but Moira was determined not to depart until Nicole was situated comfortably in a coach.

Now he was pacing around waiting for that blasted hack to show up. He was furious. Not only were they unable to proceed at all because of her determination to stay with these people, but she had lied to him. She spoke French! Not only that, she spoke it perfectly! Her accent was absolutely flawless. Even Louis was impressed by it, and it was that alone that made the lad shut up.

Why the act then? Why had she made him spend that entire afternoon suffering through a lesson in French basics when she could have taught him a thing or two? He kicked at a patch of grass, glaring over at her as she chatted with Nicole and Louis, but mostly Nicole as they were both upset with Louis, and pretending as though he were not here at all.

He was so angry with her at the moment that he could hardly stand to look at her, let alone remain silent for this long. But at the same time, he could not
not
look at her. He had to. It was an involuntary reaction to being around her. And if he were being totally objective, she was not even looking especially lovely today. Her hair was a mess, her dress was dirty, and she looked worn out. But that did not matter. In his eyes, and he was well aware how biased they were, she was the most stunning creature he had ever seen.

And that was irritating.

At the sound of approaching wheels, he turned, sighing in relief. The coach had arrived, and they could be on their way. He nodded to the coachman, who returned it, then hopped down to help the former coachman with the trunks.

Nathan helped Nicole into the coach, then moved aside so she and Moira could kiss cheeks and express their farewells. Then Moira stepped back and Louis, still grumpy, climbed in and sat on the side opposite. In a matter of minutes they were gone, and Nathan and Moira were alone again.

They looked at each other briefly, then moved as one to the horses. Nathan silently helped Moira up, and then he stood there glaring up at her. For the longest time, she did not look at him.

“What is it, Nathan?” Moira asked finally. “You have been glowering at me for most of the day now. What have I done?”

He laughed incredulously. “What have you done?” he cried. “You can speak French!”

She met his eyes coolly. “I never said that I couldn’t.”

He could not believe what he was hearing. “I spent,” he began as calmly as he could manage, “an entire afternoon, a very painful one I might add, teaching you French, or so I thought! Why in heaven’s name would you pretend you couldn’t speak it?” His voice had lost its calmness at some point and to his surprise, he now found himself shouting at her.

Moira narrowed her eyes and tightened her grip on Flora’s reins. “I don’t know, Nathan,” she said in a scathing, sarcastic voice. “Perhaps I just wanted
you
to teach me.” With a swift kick into Flora’s side, she rode off, leaving Nathan standing in his place and staring after her, his mouth gaping open, eyes wide, anger gone.

She wanted
him
to teach her? That did not make any sense to him. Why would she want him to teach her anything, especially something she already knew? He was not anything special, nor was he as gifted in the language. There was no reason she should want him specifically.

Unless… unless she was star
t
ing to have some feelings for him as well.

He staggered in his place and gripped Mercury’s reins for support as all of the breath left his lungs. That could not even be possible, could it? A beautiful woman like her, who already had a betrothed, would not be interested in plain Nathaniel Hammond. The
E
arl of Beverton maybe
, b
ut not Nathan as he was, stripped of title and fortune and breeding.

She could not possibly feel anything towards him beyond their circumstantial friendship and near constant vexation.

And yet… Could he have imagined the warmth in her eyes when they laughed? Hadn’t she been just as still during those moments when their acting became a little too intimate? Didn’t she react to seeing him shirtless the same way he had reacted to her in breeches? She had shared private, personal things with him as he had with her. They were close, there was no denying it.

Could it have been something more on her part, as it undoubtedly was on his?

Suddenly, he remembered to breathe, though it was not at all refreshing, and cleared his throat rather awkwardly, forcing the burning hope in his heart to subside. It was possible, but it was not probable. And it would not change a thing. She was engaged. They were searching for her love. Once he was found, she would be gone.

He mounted Mercury and raced to catch up to her. Whatever time they had left together, he did not want to spend it fighting or angry.

It felt like ages before he caught her, and she made no effort to look at him. “Moira, I’m sorry,” he said as he slowed.

She sniffed and wiped at her nose with her sleeve, making him smile in spite of himself. “So am I.”

“I should not have yelled at you for being fluent in French,” he said, shaking his head. “It sounds ridiculous, now that I say it out loud, doesn’t it?”

She laughed a little. “Perhaps, but not as ridiculous as me pretending I couldn’t speak French just so you could teach me.”

He grinned. “You were appallingly bad. I thought there was no way anybody could be that terrible at learning a language.”

“And you were right,” she responded with a sigh.

“But, Moira, your French is excellent. Where did you learn?”

She looked over at him and shrugged. “Is it too odd to say that I don’t know? For as long as I can remember, I have been able to speak French. I spoke it to my dolls, that way Aunt Miriam would have no idea what I was saying. There must have been a French governess or a maid or something when I was younger, but I cannot recall.”

That was not so surprising, given the tragedies of her past, but Nathan chose not to comment on that. “Well, wherever you picked it up, it is flawless.”

She smiled demurely. “Thank you. I am sorry for being so angry with you earlier.”

“It was a very long morning, wasn’t it?” he asked with a wry grin. Then he sobered. “Moira, I don’t want to fight.”

“Neither do I,” she murmured, dropping her eyes.

“Then let’s stop,” he said simply.

She met his eyes, smiling a bit. “Maybe if you were not so irritating…” she said lightly, with a shrug.

“Me?” he cried with a laugh. “Forgive me, but have you met yourself? You are hardly a paragon of meekness.”

“Well, you had already established that I am the most infuriating woman on the planet,” she protested. “Shouldn’t you have adjusted your behavior to accommodate mine?”