Page 1 of A Match of Misfortune (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #7)

Chapter One

F rom the moment Cecily Bradshaw had first set eyes on Nash Markham, she disliked him.

In truth, she’d disliked him even before that.

One could only countenance so many mentions of a young man who boasted a never-ending list of accomplishments, and Miss Patterson, the Bradshaws’ former governess–well, Mrs. Markham now–had done an ample job at singing Nash’s praises in the weeks approaching her wedding to his father.

Nash this and Nash that was all Cecily had heard, and she had grown weary of it.

Not that Cecily would begrudge Mrs. Markham her excitement.

The woman was as dear to her as a mother.

It was only that until Nash’s father had swooped into their lives and captured Miss Patterson’s heart, it was Cecily who had been her pride and joy.

To share that position with anyone but her younger sister had proved trying, but to now also share it with Nash Markham—the most pompous, arrogant charmer of her acquaintance—was nothing short of intolerable.

In her fifteen years of life, she’d never met such a disagreeable young man .

Which was why, with the wedding now behind them, Cecily could bear to leave London.

Not that she wished to leave Mrs. Markham, of course.

It physically hurt to think about that aspect of their departure, but after a full week of enduring Nash and his incessant need to outshine her, she would finally have a respite.

And an extensive one at that, considering his upcoming venture to India to apprentice under a merchant his father knew.

She’d likely not see him for another two or three years at least. More if fortune favored her. Not that it often did.

“Can we not stay for a few more days?” Adelaide’s question pulled Cecily’s attention to her eight-year-old sister.

Light blonde curls framed rounded cheeks and a rosy complexion.

She was a near replica of their mother with her fair coloring and enchanting green eyes, whereas Cecily’s golden-brown hair and olive skin came from their father.

Though even Papa’s eyes were not as drab a brown as her own.

“We cannot.” Cecily leaned forward in her seat toward Adelaide’s invalid chair and placed her hand upon her sister’s, hating to disappoint her.

“Now that Mrs. Markham is married, she must build her new life here.” A life that, for the first time in nigh on ten years, would not have Cecily, nor Adelaide, as a daily part of it.

“But I shall miss her.” The emotion in Adelaide’s voice was nearly Cecily’s undoing. Since their own mother had died giving birth to Adelaide when Cecily was only seven, Mrs. Markham had become a mother figure to her.

“I know.” Cecily tightened her grip on her sister’s hand, fighting her own tears that attempted to surface.

She had to be strong for Adelaide. “But you still have me and Papa.” She glanced at their former nursemaid, now Adelaide’s private maid, who sat on a chair along the library wall.

The needle in her fingers paused just above the stocking she darned. “And you have Sarah. ”

Adelaide sniffed and gave a small nod.

Cecily tucked a blonde curl behind her sister’s ear. “Besides, we are not so far from London. Mr. and Mrs. Markham have said we are welcome to visit whenever we like, and I’m certain they will make occasional trips to Penrose Court.”

“Cecily is correct.” The irksomely familiar voice from the doorway made Cecily’s spine stiffen, but she did not look over her shoulder at her eavesdropper as her sister did.

“You may come visit London any time you desire it.” Nash sounded sincere, but his words were most definitely accompanied by that devilish grin of his.

Not that Cecily would risk a glance to confirm it. “Both of you may.”

She did not respond, suspecting he’d take it as permission to remain in the room with them. Apparently, he needed no permission, for he rounded the side of the settee and dropped into the armchair directly next to Adelaide’s invalid chair and across from Cecily—devilish grin and all.

“What are you doing here?” Cecily did a tolerable job at concealing the animosity in her voice, a task she’d grown shockingly proficient at since arriving at the Markhams’ a week ago.

Nash’s gray eyes glimmered with mischief. “Do you mean in my own library?”

Cecily drew in a slow, calming breath. It did not serve her well when she allowed him to provoke her. “I only meant, did you require something?”

Nash leaned back into the chair, his long legs stretched out and his boot grazing the hem of her dress. “Mother wished for me to deliver a message.”

He did not say mother with any sort of divisiveness intended to prove a point, and yet hearing him refer to Mrs. Markham as such made Cecily unjustly cross.

She had been there the first time he’d used the endearment, and she’d witnessed Mrs. Markham’s eyes fill with tears.

I’d never thought I would be a mother , she had said, resting her hand on his cheek.

How blessed I am to have you in my life!

When he had answered, It is Father and I who are blessed , it had taken Cecily every bit of her self-control to not scowl daggers at him.

She knew she was being ridiculous. She didn’t even doubt he meant it.

He had been without a mother far longer than Cecily had, and Mrs. Markham was the best person in the entire world, so of course he would readily claim her as his own.

What irked Cecily was how quickly it had happened.

How easily this usurper had replaced her.

Cecily took hold of her skirts and repositioned them out of reach of Nash’s lingering foot.

It was fortunate she experienced none of the infatuation other young ladies seemed to suffer in his presence, or she might be tempted to leave her skirts as they were.

But she was not tempted. Not in the slightest.

Admittedly, she allowed that Nash had a boyishly handsome face.

Anyone with eyes would be obliged to agree.

The rich brown color and wavy thickness of his hair certainly did him no harm.

And it was simply a fact that a matching set of dark brows did a decent job of framing a pair of light eyes.

But aside from those few traits, he was rather …

unremarkable. Well, if she were being entirely fair, she supposed his broad, inviting smile served his overall appearance to some degree.

That was all though. Truly. Besides, he was tall and somewhat lanky, with hands and feet that were currently a size too big for his body.

Not that his dexterity suffered because of it. Which was a shame.

“Well?” Cecily asked, with controlled patience. The sooner Nash delivered Mrs. Markham’s message, the sooner he could be on his way.

His lips turned upward at the corners, revealing his amusement. As was typical. “Your trunks are being loaded onto the carriage. My parents are currently speaking to your father in the study, but they’ll join us soon for farewells. ”

Us ? Surely Nash did not mean to keep her and her sister company while they waited, but when he did not budge, she feared she had her answer.

Adelaide’s big green eyes settled on Nash. “Can you tell us a story while we wait?”

Cecily gave a subtle shake of her head. “I’m certain Nash has much to do this morning,” she said, encouraging him toward the correct course of action—to leave them be. “He needn’t?—”

“I thank you for your constant concern on my behalf, Cecily,” he said with a teasing lift of his brows.

For Adelaide’s sake, Cecily bit back her stinging reply.

“Allow me to reassure you that there is nothing I must see to at present besides the wellbeing of my guests.” His attention fell to Adelaide.

“So I am more than happy to oblige you with a story.”

Adelaide brightened instantly.

“Have I told you about the fox and the hunting party?”

“No.”

Nash smiled. “I must warn you, one of us does not fare well in the end.”

Adelaide’s lips parted, perfectly taking his bait.

Having no desire to hear another of Nash’s cock-and-bull tales, Cecily stood.

“If you’ll excuse me, I …” She glanced around the room and noticed an abandoned book on the end table.

She retrieved it and presented it as evidence for her quickly contrived excuse, then took a seat more removed from them. “I shall be reading.”

Nash drew in a slow breath, watching her.

She was well aware of how he prided himself on his storytelling, and she’d clearly pricked a nerve by her withdrawal.

Not one to be outmaneuvered, his attention returned to Adelaide.

“Why don’t we leave your sister to her reading and go sit in the drawing room? ”

Ah. So his response was to be feigned consideration? An attempt to make her appear the petty one? Irritation prickled over Cecily’s skin at the apparent success of his strategy. “That is most generous of you,” she said, forcing a tight smile to her lips.

He stood and glanced down at Adelaide. “Shall we?”

She did not so much as glance at Cecily before nodding. It figured. The spell Nash cast over people was utterly mind-boggling. And as he took hold of the back of her invalid chair, the look of pure satisfaction on his face confirmed he very much knew it.

He gave a slight bow in Cecily’s direction, which was obviously for show. Or simply to irk her. “Do enjoy your reading.”

This time, Cecily could not control the intensity of her glare.

Not that he cared. He pushed Adelaide’s chair forward, Sarah standing to join them.

His caution at ensuring the small wheel in the back did not catch on anything made his removal take longer than Cecily would have preferred.

It was becoming difficult to resist the nagging urge to call after him.