An Arrangement of Sorts

by Rebecca Connolly

He rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same. “Oui, mademoiselle.” Then he threw her a mock frown. “But make it a good one.”

  She nodded, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, have no fear, I will.”

  In spite of her words, Nathan had a great deal of fear all of a sudden.

  But he swallowed his protests and dutifully helped her off of the horse and followed her into the inn, which was rather crowded and loud.

  “I am terribly sorry to bother you, sir,” Moira asked in a very soft voice when they approached the innkeeper.

  The man turned, obviously haggard, but his expression cleared at Moira’s smile. “How can I help you, miss?” he asked with a slight incline of his head, obviously completely oblivious to Nathan’s presence.

  Moira blushed prettily and ducked her head. “It’s ma’am, actually, sir,” she said shyly as she took Nathan’s hand, which sent a surprised jolt through him. “My husband and I have just come up from Devon and need only a place to rest for a time before continuing on to Preston. Have you any rooms available?”

  Her voice was so weary and earnest that Nathan almost believed her himself.

  The innkeeper smiled kindly and waved them over to a table. “I shall check the books for you, ma’am.”

  “I am so sorry to trouble you,” Moira said as they followed. “I can see how very busy you are and I hate to be an inconvenience.”

  He waved a beefy hand in the air. “No trouble, no trouble at all. I only hope we can accommodate you.” He pulled out a ledger and brought it over to them and scanned the page. “I have one room left, but ‘tis a very small room with only bed for one.” He looked up at Nathan finally, and his eyes widened slightly as he took in his size. “I am afraid, sir, that it will not do for the both of you.”

  Moira turned to him with luminous eyes that held him captive in spite of his knowledge of her act. “Oh, George, what will we do?” she asked in a would-be tear-filled voice, placing a hand on his chest.

  It took Nathan a moment to think of something to say, but he covered her hand with his and smiled. “It will be fine, Hannah. I have spent many nights in the stables before when I was in the army. A bit of straw will not bother me a bit. It is better that you are warm and comfortable and safe in here.”

  Her mouth twitched and her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but she sniffled and nodded, then buried her head against him. “Only if you are sure, George. You know I hate to be parted from you, even for one night.”

  Nathan had to fight hard to refrain from bursting out laughing. He wrapped his arms around Moira, whom he could feel shaking with her own laughter, and rubbed her back gently. “I am sure, my love. You are weary and there is a warm bed here for you.” He looked to the innkeeper, who was watching them with interest. “We will take it, if you please, sir.”

  He nodded and bent over the ledger. “And what is the name?”

  “Rupert,” came Moira’s muffled voice from Nathan’s chest. She turned and faced the man. “George and Hannah Rupert.”

  Nathan made a noise and she elbowed him swiftly, clamping her lips together as the man nodded and wrote the names down.

  “Very good. Allow me to show you to your room?” He indicated the way, and they both nodded, taking only short breaths through their noses.

  Somehow, they made it to their room with straight faces, and thanked the innkeeper for showing them up. But the moment the door was closed, they both gave in to their laughter, their sides aching from the restraint. Nathan covered his mouth as Moira indicated they should be quiet, even amidst her own giggles and snorts. He nodded, his eyes beginning to tear up a bit with mirth.

  When they had both calmed, he sat on the floor against the tiny bed facing her as she took a chair. “What came over you down there, Moira?”

  She shrugged with a smile. “I haven’t a clue. I pretended that Hannah Rupert,” she broke off for another snicker between the both of them, “was a beautiful woman who commanded attention with one look, but was as sweet as cake. She is also very attached to her husband.” Here she grinned at him, and his chest tightened in response.

  He snorted, even as his heart stuttered. “Obviously. I thought I would have to pry you off of me down there.”

  Moira chuckled even as she removed her boots and set them aside. “Just playing the part, Nathan. You were quite convincing yourself.”

  He nodded his thanks and leaned his head back against the bed, staring at her fondly. “But you had one thing right; Hannah Rupert is a beautiful woman.”

  She scoffed at him and shook her head, still smiling. “Oh Nathan, please. Regardless of how wonderful she is, Hannah Rupert is still me.”

  “Yes. Exactly.”

  Moira’s smile froze and color raced into her cheeks faster than he thought was possible. She looked away and said nothing.

  “Moira?” he asked with some concern.

  She shook her head, biting her lip hard.

  He crawled over to where she sat until he was on his haunches before her, and put his hand over both of hers where they rested in her lap. “Moira,” he said again, this time with some firmness, though as gentle as he could manage.

  She looked at him finally, and he saw that, though her eyes were damp, no tears had fallen.

  “What did I say?” he asked softly.

  “You… you said I was beautiful,” she managed, her voice thick.

  His brow furrowed as he looked up at her. “I don’t under…” He stopped himself as understanding hit him and his expression cleared. “You don’t think you’re beautiful.”

  She looked away once more, and it broke Nathan’s heart a little. How could a woman as bright and vivacious and stunning as Moira think so little of herself? He had known she was beautiful before he had even met her, and that opinion had only strengthened as he had come to know her, and he was now in a very precarious situation indeed.

  But what could he tell her? That he and all of his friends had been stunned silent at the sight of her? That the innkeeper downstairs had been astounded by her not because of her role-playing, but because of Moira herself? That she had the maddening ability to stop his heart with a smile or a laugh and he had no control over it? All of those things would sound like pure flattery, and she would not care for that at all.

  Slowly, almost hesitantly, Nathan reached out and cupped her cheek, turning her face towards him, waiting for her eyes to meet his before speaking. “You should, you know,” he said softly when they did, stroking her cheek ever so slightly. “You really should.”

  He stood then, and headed for the door. “I will go see what they know about Charles here. Good night, Moira.” He exited and closed the door softly behind him, glancing in just long enough to see her cheeks still tinged with color, and to hear her reply softly, “Good night, Nathan.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Moira! Moira! Wake up!”

  Moira was shaken awake by a very excited Nathan, and it took her a long moment to realize that it was still night. “What is it, Nathan?” she groaned, burying her head into her pillows again.

  “You have to come down right now,” he said, shaking her once more, then going over to where her dress and boots sat. “And by right now, I mean right now.”

  “Unless there is a fire, Nathaniel,” she mumbled into her pillow, “I most certainly will not come anywhere right now.”

  Nathan grunted and headed back over to the bed. “You most certainly will,” he retorted as he grabbed the bedcovers and threw them off of her, turning back to her clothing as she squealed at the cold.

  “Nathan! I could have been indecent!” she screeched, scrambling for a blanket to cover her.

  “It would have served you right.” He shrugged and tossed her dress at her. “Now get dressed and come downstairs.”

  She glared at him as she shook out her dress with the one hand she was not using to cover herself. “Why am I coming downstairs in the middle of the night, Mr. Rupert?”

  “Because, Mrs. Rupert,” he said impatiently,
“there is a man downstairs who knows something of your brother.”

  Moira stilled in bed. “Charles?” she whispered as she stared up at him.

  Nathan nodded, a slight smile quirking at his lips. “The very same. Now, are you coming down or must I dress you as well?”

  She frowned at him and indicated with her finger that he should turn around. He did so with a slight roll of his eyes, and placed his hands on his hips, toe tapping against the floor. In a mere moment, her dress was on and she was working at the buttons. “All right, now give me my stockings and boots!”

  He did so and averted his eyes as she put her stockings on.

  “Oh, for pity’s sake, Nathan, it is only my ankle,” she scoffed as she pulled them up and slid her feet into the boots.

  “I think we should attempt to preserve some sense of propriety somewhere,” Nathan said unrepentantly. “Ankles or not, a gentleman never looks.”

  She snorted. “Bother with gentlemen. All right, I’m ready.”

  He turned back to her and cocked his head. “You are not going to fix your hair?”

  She leveled a look at him. “You dragged your wife out of bed, Mr. Rupert. I hardly think they will expect me to be ready for an audience with the King.”

  He shrugged, and opened the door for her, then followed her out. “Now, this man said he met Charles in Preston some months ago, but he still remembered him. I told him I had to fetch my wife so she could listen in as well and ask questions.”

  She nodded absently and began twirling a strand of copper hair around her finger, biting her lip repeatedly.

  He noticed and took that hand in his own. “Relax, Moira. It’s going to be all right.”

  She met his eyes, still gnawing at her lip a bit.

  He offered her a smile, and squeezed her hand. “I’m right here.”

  She smiled briefly and nodded, squeezing back.

  As they entered the taproom, Moira’s hold on his hand tightened and Nathan smiled in spite of himself. He knew she was not nearly as calm as she appeared. As anxious as she was, he was grateful for the opportunity to have her hear this with him as they found out more about Charles. It would set her at ease, and give her some hope for the remainder of their journey.

  They approached the table where a pleasant looking middle-aged man sat. He stood at their approach and took his hat off, brushing at his hair as he did so.

  “Hannah, this is Mr. Francis,” Nathan said with a nod. “He was up in Preston some six months ago, and he remembers your brother.”

  Mr. Francis bowed. “Mrs. Rupert.”

  Moira curtseyed in response. “Mr. Francis. It is a pleasure.”

  “The pleasure is all mine, I assure you,” he said with a smile.

  Moira indicated that he sit as she and Nathan did so. “So you know something of Charles?”

  He nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I do. I had just come into port from Spain, where I had spent some months visiting a cousin. I had never been to Preston before, and knew nothing of the city. Your brother was working at the docks and saw my confusion, and offered his assistance.”

  “That sounds like Charles,” she murmured with a smile, still gripping Nathan’s hand under the table.

  “He was very helpful,” Mr. Francis continued with a nod. “I was there for three days and every day he was there if I needed him. He assisted me in getting my affairs in order and helped me to find the men I needed to speak with. He was very pleasant, ma’am. You have a fine brother there.”

  “Thank you,” Moira said, her eyes warm. “I have not seen him in quite some time. He…” She looked to Nathan, as if unsure of what exactly she ought to say.

  He squeezed her hand softly and smiled. “He wanted to make his own way without assistance from the family. I am sure you can understand.”

  “I do. I have a brother like that myself.”

  Nathan nodded. “Hannah and I were away when he left and he gave no forwarding address for her to reach him. Would you have one?”

  Mr. Francis shook his head. “Sadly, I do not. Allenford said he was looking for a permanent place of residence, but had not been able to yet.”

  Moira clutched Nathan’s hand tightly. “Did he… did he seem happy?”

  Nathan glanced over at her, his hand very nearly going numb in her grasp. He smoothed his thumb over her hand, hoping to bring some measure of comfort.

  “He did, Mrs. Rupert, though a trifle worried, if you’ll forgive me.”

  “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, you 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 sai
d 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.”