Page 12 of A Match of Misfortune (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #7)

Bridget gave her a sideways glance. “But you do not wish for a love match?”

“No. I have no desire to surrender control over my feelings.”

Bridget gave an amused giggle, her gaze settling on her husband just ahead of them. “I’ve never heard a truer assessment of being in love. Yet it is the most incredible thing—the nearly irrational connection to another. I have encountered nothing else like it.”

Cecily dropped her gaze to the floor. She had once felt an irrational connection to Nash, but in her case, it was not love that had been the cause.

It could not have been. But the intensity of it, how it had caused all rational thought to flee from her completely, was so startling and overwhelming that she would not allow herself to feel that way again.

She would not become a victim of emotion.

“Do not fret,” Bridget said when Cecily did not respond. “If what you wish for is a match of practicality, that is what we shall find you. And to a gentleman rather more animated than Lord Hughes.”

“Nash,” Lord Rothsburg lifted a hand, and Cecily spied Nash weaving through the crowd just ahead of them, Lady Victoria on his arm. With large blue eyes, raven-colored hair, and a slight pink to her cheeks from dancing, she was even lovelier up close. “We didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

Nash stopped, his gaze briefly flicking to Cecily before it returned to his cousin. “Lord Chatting obtained an invitation for me. Did I not mention it earlier?”

“I don’t believe so.” Bridget smiled. “But we shall not complain about getting to see you twice in one day.”

Cecily glanced at her companion. When had they visited with Nash?

Bridget clearly deciphered Cecily’s confusion. “After our visit this morning, we stopped over at Mr. Markham’s new townhouse in Mayfair.” Her attention shifted back to Nash. “It is quite grand.”

Lady Victoria smiled at Nash as though the comment had anything to do with her.

Nash glanced around the group. “I’m glad to see you have all finally arrived. In your absence, I was forced to impose upon Lady Victoria for company.”

The young woman’s cheeks grew a darker shade of pink, her full, youthful face making her blush more pronounced. “It was not at all an imposition, Mr. Markham.”

Nash shot her a side smile. “I’m excessively glad to hear it.”

Gads. Cecily could hardly watch the two of them.

Bridget also gave a delicate nod of her head toward the young woman. “How well you look this evening, Lady Victoria.”

“As do you, Lady Bridget.”

Nash lifted a hand toward Cecily. “Have you had the privilege of being introduced to Miss Bradshaw yet?”

“I have not.” When the introduction had been made, she adjusted her hold on Nash’s arm and glanced up at him with innocent eyes. “How is it the two of you know one another?”

Cecily could not help but be amused at her curiosity.

Nash gave Cecily a roguish smile. “She and I have been friends for ages, haven’t we?”

What an oaf. He was clearly hoping to cause a rift between her and Lady Victoria.

Or at least widen the one that naturally seemed to be there simply because they were both out in Society and unmarried.

“If you mean we met six years ago and have not had contact again until earlier this week, and for only an exceptionally brief encounter at that, then certainly, we have been friends for ages .”

Nash laughed, his loud, full laugh that drew attention from all those standing nearby. “Apparently, she will not claim me. But I assure you, Lady Victoria, no woman on this earth has completed a more thorough cataloguing of my faults than Miss Bradshaw. I believe she has made it her life’s work.”

Cecily barely restrained a scowl, though unsurprisingly, Lady Victoria seemed appeased by his offhand answer, and she gave a little giggle. “I cannot imagine that would be a very fulfilling endeavor. I have spent the last half hour with you and cannot name one fault of yours.”

“Ah, but were you looking for them?” Nash’s gaze returned to Cecily. “Because I believe that is the key—to find something, one must first be looking for it.”

Cecily’s lips parted, her barbed reply too sharp to hold in a moment longer. “I do not?—”

“Speaking of that very thing,” Bridget said, her gaze fixed across the ballroom, “I believe I have finally spotted Lord Weaton. I had promised to introduce Miss Bradshaw to him as they are both from Kent. If you will excuse us.” Lord Rothsburg stepped to join them, but Bridget gave him a meaningful look, and he resumed his previous position.

“It was good to see you, Lady Victoria. Mr. Markham.”

Cecily managed only a brief parting nod in Lady Victoria’s direction before Bridget took hold of her and firmly guided her in the direction she’d apparently seen Lord Weaton.

When they were no longer within earshot of the others, Bridget glanced at Cecily out of the corner of her eye.

“I take it there is more to your relationship with Mr. Markham than has been shared with me?”

“We simply do not get along.”

“That is apparent. Is there a reason for it?”

After Nash’s comment about Cecily cataloguing his faults, it would be too condemning to list all the reasons she could not tolerate him.

Though she was in no short supply of them.

“Nothing in particular. I fear it has always been this way with us, though we typically try not to quarrel when others are around.”

Bridget gave a tight laugh. “That interaction was restrained?”

Cecily’s cheeks warmed at the chastisement. Why could she not control her sharp tongue and temper around Nash? There was no other person in this world she would speak to in such a manner. “I suppose not entirely, and I apologize. ”

“You needn’t apologize. Mr. Markham seemed to do most of the instigating. It appeared he was purposefully trying to vex you.”

Cecily’s heart squeezed at the acknowledgment. No one ever found fault with Nash.

“I shall speak to him,” Bridget asserted.

“I imagine, now that he’s home and also intending to make a match, we’ll be spending a good deal of time together this Season.

We shall need the two of you to come to some sort of truce.

But for now, I truly wish to make another introduction.

” Bridget smiled brightly, stepping before two gentlemen.

“Lord Weaton, how good it is to see you again.”

Lord Weaton was a friendly-looking man with smiling eyes and thinning blond hair.

He would likely not be considered handsome by many, but perhaps that was because he was standing beside a gentleman that most would pale in comparison to.

He too was blond, but his angular jawline and sculpted features seemed to be borrowed from a bust of Adonis.

Not that Cecily had any interest in him, but she did find it difficult to keep her gaze from wandering to the unknown man a second time.

Lord Weaton bowed. “Lady Bridget Rothsburg.”

“I hope we were not intruding upon your conversation, but I would very much like to introduce you to a dear friend of mine, Miss Bradshaw.”

Both gentlemen glanced toward Cecily, and she offered a curtsy. When she lifted, Lord Weaton was mid-bow, but the other gentleman’s gaze was on her, a slight smile on his face.

“It is a pleasure.” Lord Weaton gestured to the other man. “And allow me to introduce a friend of mine, Lord Harlow, the Earl of Harlow.”

“Lord Harlow?” Bridget asked, her eyes shining with unspoken humor. “What a small world it is. My husband and his cousin were just speaking of you earlier today. ”

“I cannot imagine I fared well in a conversation between the two of them.”

“Nonsense. Mr. Markham seemed exceptionally pleased you have inherited a title, and he hoped the two of you could speak soon—put aside past disagreements.”

His brows lifted slightly. “Mr. Markham said that?”

“He did.”

Cecily wasn’t sure what had transpired between Lord Harlow and Nash, but she didn’t doubt it was Nash’s fault.

Lord Harlow set his gaze on Cecily. “And where is it that you are from, Miss Bradshaw?”

“Kent, not far from Staplehurst.”

“I am from Kent,” Lord Weaton said, smiling. “Though farther east near Ashford.”

“That is beautiful country.”

“It certainly is. As is Staplehurst. I regularly claim that Kent is the finest county in all of England.”

Cecily’s smile was genuine. “I find I cannot disagree with you.”

“My aunt and uncle are near Staplehurst,” Lord Harlow said, joining the conversation. “The Callahans.”

“Yes. They are in our parish. I do not know them well, but they have a daughter a year older than my sister. Maria, I believe?” Not that she and Adelaide had ever spoken.

“Yes.” Lord Harlow smiled. “She recently turned sixteen, but to her great disappointment, her parents have decided she will not have her first Season until next year. Perhaps, upon your return to Staplehurst, Maria and your sister might lament about the injustice of being too young for a Season just yet.”

Cecily tried not to let her smile falter. “Perhaps.”

Bridget, since having discovered Lord Harlow’s name, seemed unable to control her amusement. Her gaze eagerly slid between the two of them, a smile dancing on her lips. “As we have just arrived, Miss Bradshaw has not yet had the opportunity to dance.”

Her blatant intentions made Cecily blush.

Clearly aware of Bridget’s expectation, Lord Harlow gave a small bow in Cecily’s direction. “I would be?—”

“Lord Harlow.” Nash appeared out of nowhere and set a heavy hand on Lord Harlow’s shoulder. Lord Rothsburg stepped up behind him with an apologetic look aimed at his wife. “It has been far too long.”

Lord Harlow’s shifting expression confirmed it had not been long enough. “Mr. Markham. I’d heard you had returned from India.”

“I have. And I must say, it is good to be home for a time.”

Lord Harlow did not look at all interested to hear more, and he glanced back at Cecily, his hand lifting from his side. “Yes, well, if you’ll excuse?—”

“I must offer you my felicitations on your inheritance,” Nash said, causing Lord Harlow to lower his hand again.

“If anyone deserves a place among the aristocracy, it is you. Indeed, after we first met at Eton and Rothsburg told me that your father was not titled, I was shocked.” He glanced over his shoulder at Lord Rothsburg for apparent verification, and his cousin gave a hesitant nod.

“Honestly, you have always had such a … commanding presence about you.”

Cecily was confident Nash did not intend it as a compliment.

“Hear! Hear!” Lord Weaton, however, clearly took Nash’s comments as genuine. “It is a most well-deserved inheritance.”

Lord Harlow glanced between them. “Thank you both. I appreciate your sentiments. Now if you’ll excuse me, I had hoped to?—”

“And to become an earl,” Nash continued, shaking his head. “Might I ask where your estate is located?”

“Mr. Markham.” Bridget placed a coaxing hand on his arm. “ I believe this conversation could wait until after the next set. Couples are beginning to congregate along the edges of the dance floor for the Quadrille.”

“Oh, of course. Forgive me. I did not realize the set was nearly at an end. I’m certain Miss Bradshaw is eager to dance the next.”

Bridget gave a nod. “I believe she is.”

“Very well.” Nash turned away from Lord Weaton and Lord Harlow and lifted his hand to Cecily. “Shall we, then?”

Cecily stared at his outstretched hand, completely confounded that he would not have realized what Bridget had been implying—that she was to dance with Lord Harlow, not him.

“I—” What should she say? The last person she wished to partner with was Nash Markham, but it was not as though Lord Harlow had already asked her.

Could she refuse Nash for an invitation that had not yet been offered?

She glanced at Bridget as to what to do, but Bridget looked as perplexed by the odd turn of events, as did her husband behind her.

Nash’s hand did not falter at Cecily’s prolonged hesitation. “My mother will be most pleased to hear I led you out on your first dance of the evening.”

Without Lord Harlow’s intervention, Cecily had no choice but to accept Nash’s hand. It would take a great deal of effort to hold her tongue and not tell Nash Markham exactly what she thought of his unwelcome interruption and her current opinion of him.