An Arrangement of Sorts (32 page)

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.
    

C
hapter
E
ighteen

T
hree 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 horrid 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.”

It was a long moment before they released each other, and neither had dry eyes when they did. “Well, are you going to let me in, or do you want to keep standing out here crying like a couple of girls and let the neighbors comment?” Nathan asked with a laugh, wiping at his eyes.

Spencer grinned and stepped back. “I hate my neighbors, but I would rather they think me a hermit than an emotional nonnykins.”

Nathan clapped him on the back and entered the simple, but well-furnished house, and followed when Spencer waved him on down the hall and into his study. Spencer shut the doors behind them and gestured to a pair of rather comfortable-looking arm chairs.

“Now, I know we have much to catch up on,” Spencer said with a fond smile as he took his own seat, “and Lord knows, I am desperate to hear about your new title, my lord Earl.”

Nathan snorted and rolled his eyes, but said nothing.