Page 18 of A Match of Misfortune (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #7)

Chapter Eleven

C ecily appraised her reflection in the mirror of the makeshift vanity on Nash’s bureau while Mrs. Batton brushed out her long, golden-brown hair.

She still couldn’t decide if the necklace was overmuch for an evening at the theater.

It was a delicate piece with blue gems, each enclosed by a small ring of diamonds.

“It matches your gown perfectly,” Bridget said, realizing where Cecily’s attention had gone.

“It truly does,” Adelaide agreed.

Bridget set an affectionate hand on Adelaide’s shoulder and sent her a conspiratorial smile. “See there? The vote has been cast. You must wear it.”

With both of their imploring eyes upon her, Cecily could not find it in herself to refuse.

A knock sounded at the door.

“I’ll answer it,” Bridget said, standing and making her way to the door. “Mr. Markham? What are you doing here?” By the casual tone of Bridget’s voice, Cecily knew exactly which Mr. Markham she was speaking to.

What did Nash want ?

“I need to speak with Miss Bradshaw.” His voice easily carried to where she sat.

“Now? She is not yet ready.”

“It will only take a minute.”

Bridget glanced at Cecily, then back at Nash. “What is so urgent that it cannot wait?”

Nash hesitated to respond. “I am not at liberty to say.”

Cecily sent Mrs. Batton an apologetic look and stood, all too aware he would not leave until he had his way.

She could not deny there was also a part of her that was curious about what he had to say that could not wait.

She stepped into the doorway next to Bridget, and Nash’s gaze landed on the hair hanging loose around her shoulders.

“What is it?” she asked, her snipped response pulling his eyes back to hers.

He glanced at Bridget, his fingers mindlessly tapping on his thigh. “May we speak in private?”

Cecily’s shoulders dropped as she considered him.

“It will be brief,” he said.

“Very well.” She took a step to join him in the corridor, and with one last glance between them, Bridget shut the door.

Nash took a few steps from where they stood, and after a brief huff, Cecily followed. “What do you wish to discuss?” She wasted no time with niceties. She needed to finish getting ready or they would be late. “And please tell me you do not intend to offer another warning against Lord Harlow.”

“Why would I waste my breath on that? You would not listen.”

She gave a defiant lift of her chin. “Clearly not.”

“In which case, I shall refrain from mentioning that the man has more hair than wit and is inclined toward thinking the world, and everything in it, belongs to him.”

She knew it! He had not come up here to speak with her but to continue his campaign against his former rival.

Well, she had no time for his games. She turned away from him so quickly that her hair whipped around her from the force.

His hand caught hers, and regrettably, her breath hitched.

She hated that his touch did that to her.

“Forgive me,” he said, a hint of desperation in his voice. “I’ll not say another word about Featherbottom.”

She slowly inhaled, wondering if she currently had the patience for … whatever this was, before reluctantly facing him again. Her gaze dropped to their hands. “Might I have my hand back, then?” she asked, desperate for the tingling in her body to stop so that she might think more clearly.

He glanced down at their hands as if he’d forgotten he had a hold of hers. Was he so accustomed to the close proximity of the opposite sex that he was wholly unaffected by her touch? It would hardly surprise her. “Forgive me,” he said, releasing it.

She clasped her hands behind her back, if only to give them a place to go. “Well?”

Nash hesitated. He glanced at the door, then back at Cecily, before leaning in closer to lower his voice. “Do you remember last night at the ball when you were talking about my luck, and I teasingly replied that you could have it?”

Cecily nodded, unsure where this conversation was leading.

Nash lifted his hands between them, his palms facing her. “I admit this is going to sound strange, but I think I may have actually given it to you.”

Cecily stared at him, her lips parting ever so slightly. He had to be jesting. “Your luck?”

Nash nodded. “With all the bad things that keep happening to me, it’s the only thing that makes any sense.”

Laughter nearly burst from her. “You giving me your luck, makes sense? Do you hear yourself?”

“You were the one who brought up my luck and said that everything always goes my way. It’s true. For the most part it does. Until last night after our conversation. ”

Cecily’s brow furrowed. It was strange that so much had gone wrong for Nash in such a small window of time. But passing his luck to another? Surely not. “And you think I have it?”

“Lady Bridget mentioned how many callers you had today.”

Cecily’s head jolted backward at the slight.

She was aware of the reason for so many gentlemen visiting her, but he was none the wiser about their having overheard him speak of her dowry, which meant he simply did not think Cecily capable of drawing their attention.

Even if his reasoning was accurate, his conclusion pricked.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Nash said, apparently realizing his error a moment too late. “I only meant that Lady Bridget had seemed amazed at the number of gent?—”

“It is quite evident what you meant.”

Nash lowered his chin and sent her a disbelieving look, as though he were the one insulted. “Truly, I did not?—”

She put a hand up to stop him, her chest buzzing with indignation. “So what must I do to give you your luck back so that you’ll be on your way?”

Nash paused, drawing in a slow, sharp breath, as if debating whether he should move forward with the request or have another go at explaining his clumsy comment. “Well, I simply stated that you could have it,” he finally said. “Though maybe it would be wise for you to use the same words I did.”

“Which were what again?”

“I believe it was It is yours to have. All of it. ” He brought a hand to his chin. “But I wonder if you should clarify what it is exactly that is mine to have. Such as My luck is yours to have. All of it. ”

She lifted a brow. “This is ridiculous, you know.”

Surprisingly, a hint of red touched his cheeks as though he was very much aware. For a man who always insisted luck had no sway over him, he certainly seemed to believe in it now. “ Nonetheless, I thank you for humoring me. Now …” He made a rolling motion with his hand.

“My luck is yours to have—” She halted mid phrase.

What was she doing? Surely, there was an opportunity here she was not taking advantage of.

He more than deserved a little torment after the hours of gentlemen callers she’d endured earlier.

“Wait. Let’s say, for a moment, I believe the absurd claim that I have somehow taken your luck.

Why should I so willingly give it back? You have had it nigh on four and twenty years. Should it not be someone else’s turn?”

Nash opened his mouth, then closed it again, and Cecily could barely restrain her delight.

Nash Markham had never been rendered speechless before.

At least not that she could recall. He ran a hand through his hair, but Cecily refused to be distracted by it.

“Can you not see what a wretch I am without my luck?” His tone was too overdone to elicit any true pity.

“My life is falling into shambles, precisely as you predicted.”

She curled her lips inward, biting back her amusement. “That does seem to be the truth of it.”

He shook his head, fighting his own smile. “Besides, it’s not yours.”

“Oh, but you gave it to me. All of it.”

His gaze searched hers. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? You tricked me into giving it to you with your charms.”

An unexpected laugh bubbled up from Cecily. “My charms? You are desperate.”

Nash considered her, his fingers resuming the tapping on his thigh. “Name your price.”

“A trade?” She gave a thoughtful hum, resting a finger against her lips. “What could I possibly want from you?”

He leaned toward her. “I could offer a few suggestions.”

She pinned him with another look. What a horrible, wicked flirt. Even when he didn’t mean it, he couldn’t help himself. “On second thought, I think I’ll just keep the luck. ”

She turned from him again, and this time he stepped in front of her, preventing her from leaving. Desperation pulled at his features. “Come now. There must be something I can offer you.”

The only thing she currently wanted, besides being rid of him, was to be done with the cursed Marriage Mart and the horde of gentlemen who were far more interested in her dowry than in her. Nash could not help her with that.

She stilled.

Or could he?

Her gaze turned distant as she mulled the thought over.

If gentlemen believed her interest lay elsewhere, they would cease to pursue her.

So … if Nash would court her—no, not even court her, simply be his usual flirtatious self in public, then she could allow his advances, only temporarily, of course.

It could be just the thing to cause any potential suitor’s interest in her to wane.

Men were fickle like that. They did not like a woman’s attention on another.

And it would not even need to be for long.

A few weeks would probably suffice, leaving Nash plenty of time to find someone else to court and marry before his return to India.

Besides, it was not as though changing one’s mind about a prospective marriage companion typically had any negative effect on a gentleman’s reputation.

Only the lady’s. Which Cecily did not care about at all.

In truth, it would likely aid her endeavor by preventing new suitors.

She could keep her promise to Papa to stay the entire Season while freeing herself from the unwanted advances. It was perfect.

“You’ve thought of something,” Nash said. “What is it?”

It was only then that Cecily realized the glaring error in her plan, for he was standing before her, a rakish smile curving the corners of his lips upward. What had she been thinking? She could clearly not pretend a fondness for Nash Markham. She was not that desperate.

She shook her head. “It is nothing. ”

“Come now. Tell me what it is.”

She pressed her lips together and lifted her chin slightly, hoping he would not glimpse the truth. “It was not anything you could help me with.”

Nash’s gaze held a hint of doubt as it roved across her expression. “Are you certain?”

“Quite certain.”

He gave a heavy nod. “How about I give you my word that, when you think of what it is you want, I shall see it done?”

“An open-ended agreement? Surely you are a better negotiator than to allow for such a thing?”

“I think you underestimate how much I want my luck back.” Nash was the very image of haughty confidence, leaning one shoulder against the corridor wall with his arms folded across his broad chest.

She forced her gaze from him. “Very well,” she said, suddenly desperate to be on her way. Pulling in a quick breath, she pulled back her shoulders and returned her attention to him, hoping she did not appear as unnerved as she felt. “My luck is yours to have. All of it. Sufficient?”

He gave a slight smile. “You could have said it with a touch more sincerity.”

“I could have not said it at all.”

He lifted his hands in acquiescence. “That will suffice.”

Footsteps on the stairs sent both of their gazes down the corridor. Mrs. Markham stepped into view wearing a worried expression. “There you are, Nash.”

“What is the matter?”

“One of your trunks fell off the carriage as they were unloading it. Apparently, the height of the fall broke the latch, and the contents were scattered across the muddy, wet pavement.”

Nash shot Cecily a meaningful look, as if it were further evidence for his loss of luck. “Did they say what the contents were?”

“They have the trunk downstairs in the housekeeper’s quarters. I had a quick look, and it seems to be mostly clothing and linens, though there are a few other items. The servants feel terrible about it.”

Nash waved a dismissive hand. “I’m not overly concerned. I made certain the trunk with my valuables was loaded at the bottom. But I’ll go belowstairs when I’m finished here and reassure them of that.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Markham’s gaze shifted to Cecily, lingering on her long, loose hair, then back to Nash. “Forgive me for interrupting the two of you. I did not?—”

“You are not interrupting,” Cecily assured her, slightly embarrassed Mrs. Markham had found them alone together.

“I simply wished to offer Miss Bradshaw a few words of caution regarding Lord Harlow’s tendency to incorrectly interprets one’s intentions before she departs.

” Nash said the man’s title as though it took a hardy effort on his part, which amused Cecily greatly.

If she were not a person of feeling, she might encourage Lord Harlow for the sole purpose of watching Nash’s comical reactions.

Though why he should care if Lord Harlow showed interest in her, she could not say.

Perhaps he truly didn’t wish for two of his adversaries to form an alliance.

Mrs. Markham’s smiling eyes held a glint of humor in them. “How very … thoughtful of you, Nash.”

He gave a stiff nod, his gaze returning to Cecily.

“So, considering my admonition, perhaps you would like to reconsider wearing such a …” His gaze dropped to Cecily’s gown, causing her cheeks to pink under his brief but focused consideration.

He cleared his throat. “… a fine gown. But, as it seems a conscious decision, I shall let you get back to the others so that you may finish readying for your evening at the theater.”

Before Cecily could even process his accusatory comment enough to contemplate a response, he gave a brief bow, turned, and strolled down the corridor.

Mrs. Markham sent her an apologetic look. “It seems Nash and Lord Harlow have not always gotten on well—some sort of boyhood rivalry—but the Rothsburgs have assured me Lord Harlow is a decent man. So you needn’t let their dispute affect you, nor your attire. You look perfectly lovely.”

Cecily glanced down at her silvery blue gown, noting the sheer overlay on the skirt and the delicate beadwork on the bodice and the hem.

It did seem a touch extravagant for a night at the theater, but she would not give Nash the satisfaction of knowing she thought him correct by changing the dress.

Instead, when she returned to the room, she discreetly unclasped the necklace and tucked it back inside the box with her other jewelry.

It wasn’t a drastic change, but it was something.

The last thing she wanted was to give Lord Harlow the wrong impression, despite how she carried on in front of Nash.