An Arrangement of Sorts

by Rebecca Connolly

  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.

  His brother turned serious, his dark eyes boring into Nathan’s with more intensity than Nathan ever remembered seeing in them. “But I want to know about your words to me out there just now.”

  “My apology?” Nathan asked, knowing that was not it at all.

  Spencer only flicked a smile. “You have lost the woman you love.”

  “Yes.”

  It was a brief, painful response that seemed ripped from his chest, but he would not comment further. He had just spent the past three days trying to put it from thought. Opening the wound when it was still so fresh would only expose it to infection.

  “Nathan,” Spencer prodded gently, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “An infection must be let out or it will kill you.”

  “Infection,” he muttered with a scornful laugh, choosing to ignore that his brother’s words had echoed his thoughts in a bizarrely similar fashion. “That may be the word for it, yes.”

  “So let it out.”

  Nathan looked up at his brother, whom he had not anticipated to be the least bit pleased to see him only a few minutes ago. He hardly knew this man before him anymore, how could he share his pain with him now?

  “All I know is that you need to fix that relationship.” Moira’s voice echoed in his mind and he struggled to push it out. She was so blasted obstinate, even in his thoughts. “You would be surprised at what sort of miracles can take place when one only has the courage to take a first step in the right direction.”

  He smiled a touch at the memory of her words, but he felt it shake even as it formed. As usual, as much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, Moira had been right. He needed to mend this relationship with his brother, and this would be a fine first step. Besides, wasn’t that what a brother was for?

  In a low voice devoid of emotion, Nathan told Spencer everything. He started from the first day he had seen her and the only interruption was Spencer’s crying “Wait, those Dennisons?” and then at Nathan’s reply of, “Yes, those Dennisons,” a muffled expletive and a wave to continue. He did so, finishing with his determination to come here. “I am afraid it was more because she had insisted upon it than for anything else,” he admitted, feeling only slightly ashamed for that.

  “I don’t blame you,” Spencer murmured, leaning back in his chair, looking rather blown about by the story. “I hardly gave you reason to seek me out. She actually told you to come see me?”

  “Not in so many words, but her intent was clear. She makes no secret of her opinions.” He swallowed down a lump in his throat and glanced to the window.

  “Well, in spite of your obvious pain, which I am truly sorry for,” Spencer said in a consoling tone that Nathan could only nod in response to, “I’m very glad you met her. And that her opinions were so very direct.”

  “So am I,” he murmured, his eyes dropping to his boots. Despite everything, he could not, and would not, ever regret any of it.

  “I wrote to you, you know,” Spencer quietly told him.

  That brought Nathan’s head up with a jerk. “You did?”

  Spencer nodded with a hint of a smile. “Quite a few letters, actually.”

  “I never received anything,” he whispered, wishing he had known that. How much of the distance between them could have been prevented by his reading one letter from him?

  “I never sent them,” Spencer replied with a shrug that was a poor attempt at carelessness. “They still sit in that desk drawer over there.” His smile faded and for the first time, he actually looked as uncomfortable as Nathan felt. “I didn’t know how to make amends for the mess we were in, and a letter seemed a poor excuse for a first step, but the thought of coming to you personally was terrifying.”

  Nathan fought another difficult swallow. “I’m sorry you felt that way.” He shook his head, clearing his throat. “Can we talk about something pleasant?” he begged with a laugh.

  “Please,” Spencer agreed, grinning. “As a matter of fact, there is something of great importance that I have been wanting to discuss with you for some weeks now, but as our situation was, I didn’t…”

  “I’m here now,” Nathan said with a firm wave of his hand. “What is past is past. Discuss it now.”

  Spencer nodded and sat forward, obviously excited. “Well, I know I told you I would never love anyone as I loved Anna, but I was an idiot.”

  “Could have told you that myself.”

  That earned him a glower he was more than familiar with from days past. “Regardless,” his brother said, choosing to ignore the comment verbally, “I have found that, in spite of my doubts…”

  “Many of them, no doubt.”

  “…I have done so.”

  “You have?” Nathan asked, all teasing and sarcasm gone.

  Spencer nodded, barely restraining his grin. “I have. And I love her far more than I ever dreamed I would be able to.”

  Nathan sat back heavily, his astonishment all-consuming. And the sudden twinge of pain and jealousy in his chest burned fiercely, and brought with it a measure of guilt.

  “I know my timing is deplorable,” Spencer said apologetically, “but it’s all that I can think about.”

  “I know what you mean,” Nathan replied in a low voice, offering a humorless smile. “But just because I am thwarted in my situation doesn’t mean that we should ignore the joy of yours.” He reached out a hand and clapped his brother on the shoulder, his smile turning genuine. “Now, tell me about this lady love of yours, and when am I to wish you joy?”

  “I don’t know about the when,” Spencer laughed. “I have yet to speak of marriage to her at all. But her name is Caroline Templeton and we met at a ball.”

  “Oh, how very English of you,” Nathan drawled, feeling his humor return.

  “She spilled her punch all over me.”

  Nathan’s brows shot up and his smile grew. “That is not very English. How did that come about?”

  “She was most enthusiastically defending a maid who had unintentionally slighted and offended Lady Greversham that evening.”

  He could hardly believe what he was hearing. “To whom was she defending this maid?”

  Spencer grinned. “Lady Greversham.”

  Nathan exploded with laughter. “I think I am going to like Miss Templeton very much indeed!”

  “I hope you do. I want to introduce you at once. I want your approval before I speak to her father about it.” Spencer looked so keen and earnest that Nathan was touched.

  “You don’t need to do that, Spencer. I trust your judgment.”

  His brother smiled. “Thank you, but I want your approval first all the same. You are an earl, after all.”

  Nathan waved his hand impatiently. “Title and wealth mean very little as far as romantic matters go. If you like her, that’s good enough for me.”

  “So you don’t care that her fortune is considered by most to be a rather pitiful sum for a family of the ton? That society sees them as lowly despite their respectability?”

  “Not a bit,” he said with a shake of his head. “In fact, I think I like her better for it.” And he honestly d
id. Her fire and strength of character would be good for his brother, and he thought Moira would like her considerably. Which was the best indication of good taste he knew of. “When shall I meet her?”

  “Oh, perhaps tomorrow, we can call over there,” Spencer said without much concern, sitting back. “We need to spend some time together, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, I do,” Nathan agreed instantly, feeling a touch of warmth spread into his chest again. “But I don’t think it will take us forever. We have never been very good with words. Invite Miss Templeton and her family to dinner this evening.”

  “Really?” Now the excitement in his voice was plainly evident and Nathan grinned, nodding.

  “Really. The sooner we can get her into this family, the better. We have a desperate need for feminine influence.”

  The Templetons, as it turned out, were just the sort of people that Nathan would want to bind his family to. The parents were respectful and proper, but with enough wit and good humor to keep them from stiffness. Their two daughters inherited those traits, Caroline being the obvious beauty, and her younger sister Gemma being far more outspoken. Caroline’s tale of intentionally spilling punch on Spencer in order to meet him spoke of a surprisingly conniving mind, and Gemma’s detailed description of everyone’s reactions to the events added a colorful and cheery quality that was no less amusing in the skill of the telling. There was obvious affection among the entire family, and it took Nathan only moments to approve of all of them.

  He made the point very clear to Spencer and at an appropriate moment, his brother begged a private word with Mr. Templeton, and thereafter with the eldest Templeton daughter. The rest of the family dashed to a nearby window, at Nathan’s instruction, and the engagement proceeded perfectly, to the satisfaction of all.

  Nathan could not help but to smile as he took in the entire table, now regrouped. The majority of his day had been spent with Spencer, and they were already closer than they had been as children. Caroline would make him a fine wife, and it was evident that she cared little about the superiority of the ton. She was prone to smiling and had more than enough wit to keep Spencer on his toes.

  Spencer needed such a woman.

  And Nathan doubted Spencer, God bless him, would ever know just how fortunate he was. Fate was not always so kind.

  He cleared his throat as congratulations began to dwindle and he grinned at his brother and his new fiancée. “Well, now that all that is settled, how about some dessert?” He waved at a maid with a tray.

  They all settled and Caroline flashed Spencer an evil grin. “Don’t worry about me,” she said in a bright voice. “I’ve already had mine.”

  A series of groans went up from most of the table, along with an additional “Bad form!” coming from a thoroughly disgusted Gemma, who also felt it necessary to mimic gagging, much to her mother’s dismay. Spencer, on the other hand, seemed genuinely pleased by Caroline’s words, in spite of his now rather flushed cheeks, and Nathan had the sneaking suspicion that they were holding hands under the table. Yes, indeed, Caroline was going to be good for Spencer.

  Nathan smiled and helped himself to more of the pudding, thinking he was rather going to enjoy having an actual family again.

  The rest of the night was filled with laughter and cheer as wedding plans were discussed and a date a month hence settled upon, and the entire company ended the evening with nothing but pleasant thoughts in their minds.

  Well, most of them did, anyway.

  Chapter Nineteen

  After almost a full week in Preston, Moira was no closer to getting married than she had been before. They didn’t even speak on the subject. Her visits with Charles were amusing, and terribly so. But there was something missing from it, something she could not define. She was certain Charles was feeling it too, though he was not commenting on it. But something was not right.

  She had been spending quite a bit of time with Gwen, as Charles seemed to be always working. Gwen assured her that it was typical of the Allenford men to throw themselves into their work when there was something on their minds. Still Moira was unsettled and could not place a finger on it.

  But what was most troubling to her was the fact that, as much as she admired Charles, she was in no hurry to be married to him either.

  He had told his family about their attachment, which was received with great excitement and enthusiasm, and he had even confessed that his brother had offered to assist them in procuring a house of their own, if they needed it, so thrilled was he by their engagement. Moira had nearly told him about her fortune then, but still she hesitated. It was not something she wanted to toss about like some ribbon-strewn baton at a fair. It would change the whole course of things for them.

  “You are positively drowning in thoughts,” Gwen’s voice said from somewhere next to her, sounding wry, but concerned.

  She shook herself out of her reverie and forced a smile. “I’m a bit prone to pondering of late, I fear.”

  “On what?”

  Moira shrugged and picked up little William, who had been tugging at her dress. “Oh, this and that. A bit of everything, really.”

  “A bit of everything does not cause frowns like that on anyone’s face, Moira,” Gwen said in a scolding tone that she suspected was used on William quite often.

  She met her eyes and bit her lip, shrugging again, embarrassed that tears began to prickle at the corners of her eyes.

  “Oh, Moira, what is it?” Gwen asked in a softer voice.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered, holding the baby close as he sat contentedly in her lap. “I cannot even put a name to the feeling, but I just…”

  “Is it Charles?” Gwen interrupted gently. “I can tell he has been distracted of late, but I know that he loves you very much.”

  “I know he does. I know.” And she did. He may not have said it, but she knew that he loved her. She could see it in his eyes, and could feel it when he held her hand in his. “But he is not… that is to say, we’re not who we used to be.”

  “Do you still love him?”

  “Yes, I do. He is the dearest friend in the world, and I’m dreadfully fond of him, but…” She trailed off and fumbled in her mind for the best way to say this without giving Gwen the wrong impression.

  “But there is a ‘but’,” Gwen said finally, her voice still as gentle as ever, not the faintest hint of scorn in it.

  Moira nodded, relieved that someone, at least, could see the problem. “I don’t even know what, really, and…”

  “I do.”

  Moira stopped instantly and looked up at Gwen in shock, her heart freezing in her chest. She could not possibly…

  “That man you came with. Nathan, was it?”

  Moira’s throat went dry and she could not even manage to swallow properly.

  Gwen smiled, her eyes kind and soft. “You were not merely friends, were you?”

  “I-I… I love Charles,” Moira stammered.

  The smile deepened and became a touch more amused. “That was never in question.”

  Moira looked away, embarrassed and flustered beyond reckoning.

  “Moira, do you have feelings for Nathan?”

  She hesitated only a moment, then nodded.

  “Love?”

  Again, she nodded.

  “How does he feel?”

  “I don’t know. I know he cares for me, but I don’t know about the rest.” She looked back to Gwen. “But I do love Charles.”

  “Yes, so you’ve said,” Gwen said, reaching a hand out and placing it on Moira’s knee, “but I wonder what kind of love it is.”

  Moira could not have answered if she wanted to. To hear aloud what she had been wondering in her heart for days was more confusing than anything she had ever known. She loved the man Charles had been, and she loved the man he was now. But the feelings were so different that she hardly knew what they were.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Moira whispered. “I love Charles, but how can I possibly cons
ider marrying him when I haven’t told him I have feelings for Nathan? And Nathan is… he…”

  “He has gone, hasn’t he?”

  She nodded, swallowing with some difficulty. “He left the day after we arrived. I have no way of knowing where he went, or of anything else. He… he did not seem keen to continue our acquaintance.”

  “No, I can imagine not,” Gwen murmured, sounding oddly amused. “Well, I think the first thing that you need to do is to talk with Charles.”

  “I know, but I am so afraid,” she confessed, looking down at the little boy in her lap and letting him examine her fingers. “How can I tell him that I have developed feelings for someone else? He has been working for us for all this time, and I have…”

  “Oh, just talk with him, Moira,” Gwen insisted, patting her knee. “Charles has not been the most dedicated fiancé, having not written you in all this time. He deserves at least half of the blame. And he is the most reasonable of men, I am sure he will understand.”

  “I wish I had your confidence.”

  Gwen laughed and shooed her out the door. She took her bonnet, scowling at it as she did so, but any way that she could make herself look more proper would certainly help her cause.

  She walked down the road towards the town with her hands behind her back, head bowed. How was she going to approach the subject? How could she possibly tell Charles all that she needed to without hurting him? They could still marry, she supposed, but would he still wish to?

  She was so distracted that she failed notice the man walking in front of her, and they collided, apologizing profusely as they tried to avoid falling. Then they looked at each other.

  “Charles!”

  “Moira!”

  They stared at each other for only a moment, and then, at the same time, said, “We need to talk.”

  They must have looked comically identical, for she saw his eyebrows shoot up as hers did so. Then they laughed, albeit awkwardly.

  “Perhaps we should talk,” Moira said with a smile.

  Charles nodded and took her hand. “Perhaps we should.”