An Arrangement of Sorts (27 page)

He shoved away from the door and walked, not back to his own room, but down the hall and to the stairs. He would not sleep tonight, not for a long while at least. The night had cleared and the moon and stars were out in their full splendor, and he would need their majesty for some clarity in his own mind.

Tomorrow they would reach Preston. Barring an absolute miracle of biblical proportions, they would find Charles Allenford within hours of that. Then Moira would be where she belonged, and Nathan…

He shook his head at the choking sensation that enveloped him. He had no idea what he was going to do. What was left for him after Moira was gone? The very thought of it was bleaker than his darkest moments past. How could he possibly just turn her over to another man’s care, knowing he felt what he did for her?

For one moment, one blissful, agonizing moment, Nathan allowed his mind to venture where it had previously balked at going. What if he told her everything, begged her to choose him instead? What if she said yes?

He imagined the life they would have together, days full of joy and nights that were no longer plagued with fear, the laughter of their children as they played, and the two of them as they aged together, still delighting in each other.

It was perfect. It was all a man could want and so much more. He had always imagined he would be the kind of man who would end up marrying out of necessity and not love. He would have children he adored, and he would grow to love his wife because of and through them, but never a romantic or passionate love.

Now he could not imagine how he would ever be able to go back to that, knowing what it could have been, had life been fair and just.

But life was neither fair nor just. He would be forced to adapt to his new situation, and make the most of it.

“How?” he asked aloud, begging the heavens for answers as he ran hand through his hair.

What was he supposed to do? Let her walk out of his life forever without telling her just how much she meant to him? Could he live with the knowledge that he had never tried for her?

He rubbed his arms in the chill of the night, but tilted his head back to catch more of the breeze on his face. “Help me,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

“It seems to me,” came a quiet voice from behind him, “that a man who needs to ask the stars for help is in quite a desperate place.”

Nathan turned in surprise to see Squire Cutler walking up towards him at a leisurely pace, and watching him with interest. “We are in one,” he responded as calmly as he could, turning back to face the stars.

“We?” the squire queried softly, coming to Nathan’s side and looking out at the stars with him.

“My cousin and I.”

The man chuckled and put a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “Son, if the two of you are cousins, then I am the King of the Belgians.”

Nathan met his eyes, shaking his head at once. “Squire, I don’t mean to contradict you, but…”

“Oh, don’t even try it, Nathan,” he overrode, squeezing his shoulder briefly. “I can see the way you look at her, and it’s not anything close to familial concern. You are in love with her.”

Nathan held the gaze for a long moment, then looked away. “Yes.” It was all he could say before his throat constricted rather painfully.

Again came a gentle squeeze to his shoulder. “I think perhaps, Nathan, now would be an excellent time to get a few things off of your chest.”

Nathan nodded, swallowing with difficulty.

It took longer than he expected, telling their story. And he told the squire everything, even the things that Moira did not know. He told him everything about his title, his first impressions of Moira, about his friends urging him to go, how even then they could see what he could not. He confessed the pain at pretending to be married, and how it became harder each and every time to return to normal. He explained the truth about Charles Allenford, as much as he knew. He even told him about the faux pregnancy and kissing her in public and asking her to stay and her nightmare and falling asleep with her in his arms.

Finally, he reached the point they were at now, and what had forced him out of doors tonight. When all had been said, he fell silent, feeling rather drained. The squire had remained silent during the entire telling, nodding at parts, brow furrowed at others. Nathan was grateful for the lack of interruptions, as it made the telling easier.

“That is quite the story,” the squire finally said, squinting up at the stars.

Nathan laughed without humor. Yes, it was rather, wasn’t it? A story for the ages.

“How does she feel?”

“I don’t know,” Nathan answered, feeling rather raw and exposed at the moment. “If I did, maybe I could… maybe we could…” He broke off, knowing it was pointless to speculate at this time.

“I don’t claim to know much of love,” the squire said on a sigh, shifting his weight slightly. “I am a simple squire of little consequence, my lord.”

“Don’t call me that,” Nathan begged with a quick jerk of his head. The very reminder of who he really was scalded him.

The squire ignored him.  “But I know that there are at least two parts of love, for those who really and truly love another.”

Nathan looked over at him and waited, sensing that he was not going to like this at all.

“The first is that loving someone sometimes means that it is better to give them up than it is to keep them.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Nathan rasped, his voice hoarse.

There was only a slight smile of pity from the squire in response. “The second is realizing that nothing you want matters anymore.”

Nathan grimaced in pain, the words felt like a lash upon the back of his already wounded soul, from which the stinging would never subside.

Amidst the pain, he felt the gentle squeeze of reassurance on his shoulder once more, and turned to find the squire already heading back to the house. His words echoed in Nathan’s mind as he remained, his turmoil greater than ever.

Let her go? How could he possibly do that? Maddening as she was, frustrating and irritating as she had the capacity to be, Moira was the sunlight to his otherwise dreary world. When she was gone, it would seem even darker than it was before.

He sighed in dejection and walked further away from the house. What did it matter how he felt? There was no choice to be made here. Starting tomorrow, life would get darker, and it did not matter if there was light at the end of the tunnel or not.

For, while he was in it, the darkness was still dark.

The hole would still be a hole.

The pain was still pain.
 

C
hapter
F
ifteen

M
oira watched Nathan from her window as she sat in the window seat, wondering where he was walking to, and what Squire Cutler had said to him.

It had not been long that she had been awake, but thoughts of sleep were no longer prevalent. She had woken from her nightmare with a jerk to find the room empty, and only the moonlight was there. It streamed through the window brightly, casting long shadows against the floor. She had eventually caught her breath as the fear began to subside, but it took much longer to calm her mind.

That nightmare had been worse than any other of late. And it had not been about her family or Charles.

This time it had been about Nathan.

She could not bear to revisit the details of it. The feeling of horror still lingered, and she still clung to words she had heard in it. “
It’s only a dream, Moira. It’s all just a dream.”

Yes, it had been a dream, but nothing had ever felt so real. She had not dreamed of Nathan before tonight, but it had been more terrifying than any of the others. Her panic had been real and all consuming, and she had never been so grateful to wake up from a nightmare. Vainly, she had hoped that he would be there to comfort her again, that he could sweep the hair from her eyes and tell her that everything would be right again, that nothing could hurt her.

But alone she had been when the dream had ended, and Nathan had been outside with the stars.

Then where had those words come from? Surely she could not have imagined it all; it was far too real for that.

Or had she?

It was possible, she supposed. If she had wanted something so badly during those moments, her mind might have conjured up something of the sort.

But she hoped that it was real.

There was something about that man that made her feel safe, that there was nothing to fear. She might fight against it, but part of her secretly thrilled whenever he demanded that she let him be a gentleman, or begged her to be ladylike. She knew that it was silly, but his level of respect for her, for any woman, she suspected, was one of the most attractive qualities about him.

And there were quite a few attractive qualities about Nathaniel Hammond.

He had this way of smiling when he was particularly amused by something but wanted to hide it. It made his eyes crinkle ever so slightly, and she had always heard the expression of “dancing eyes”, but she had never seen it until now. And he always ran a hand through his dark hair when he was frustrated, and all that served to do was make it untidy, which was terribly becoming on him. His anxiety about public settings was adorable, his fear of spiders amusing, and his inability to be indifferent about anything never ceased to make her smile.

She stared at the place where she had last seen him and sighed. She wished he had come to her. He always knew how to put her at ease, and how to set her heart flying in the most shameful manner at the same time. After her nightmare the other night, when he had held her and told her that it was all right to cry, she had given in and done so. She had needed to cry it out, and he knew it.

He always gave her what she needed, even if she did not know of her need.

It was one of the things she loved the most about him.

She gasped as the realization washed over her and covered her mouth with both hands.

She loved him? How could she…? When did she…?

She shook her head as tears welled in her eyes. What did it matter when or where or how she came to love him? All that mattered was that she did, and she had not even known that she had started. She loved their fights, their laughter, their silly games, their pretend marriages, their teasing, their questions… She loved the way he watched her when he thought she wasn’t looking, the way he lifted her spirits with a smile, the fact that he told her things he didn’t even need to. She loved how she had felt in his arms. She loved the way he made her blush. She loved the way time stood still when he looked at her.

Somehow or other, he had taken a hold of her heart and she wasn’t sure she wanted it back.

But what about Charles? She groaned and grabbed at her hair. Charles had been everything to her for so long. She loved him! He had brought joy into her life when there had been none. He had seen something in her when no one else had cared to. He always thought the best of everyone, even if they did not share his opinion. He was a good man, one of the best. He was her best friend. He was the man she had promised to marry.

And Nathan… Nathan was…

She looked out of the window and saw him reappear. His head was down and he walked slowly, still not turning towards the house. He glanced up towards the window and she sat back, hoping he couldn’t see her from that distance.  She held her breath, watching him intently, wishing she knew his thoughts. Finally, his shoulders sagged and he turned and continued walking in the direction he had been going, shaking his head.

Slowly, Moira released her breath and pulled her knees into her chest. What could she do? She couldn’t forsake her past for something that had come on over the course of a week, no matter how fervent it was.

Nathan was one of the best men she had ever known. He had nothing to give but himself, and she suspected that had he a fortune of any sort, nothing about him would change. But he was right, they needed to move forward and find Charles. The sooner they did, the better. She could not in good conscience abandon him before finding him. What if he should reappear, having worked all this while for her and was at last ready to marry?

She had to go. She had to be loyal and faithful to Charles. He deserved no less.