Page 19 of A Match of Misfortune (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #7)
Chapter Twelve
T he quiet of the carriage settled over Cecily.
She was utterly exhausted. After a much too brief respite on the Sabbath, she’d spent the better part of the last two days taking morning calls at the Rothsburgs’, going with Bridget on social visits, and attending a soiree until far too late in the evening the previous night.
She had also been required to explain to three different gentlemen that, while she appreciated their very pointed interest in her, she feared they would not suit.
At least when Mr. Westchild had accidentally divulged his knowledge of her dowry, she’d confirmed her theory of why so many gentlemen were set upon the idea of courting her.
This was certainly all Nash’s fault.
As soon as the carriage rolled to a stop, she alighted from it, eager to be back at the Markhams’ for even a few short hours.
The drawing room was empty, but she heard voices floating out of the open door of the library.
She peeked her head inside to find Nash sitting across from Adelaide and Jamison.
Jamison’s gaze was fixed on his brother, his expression lined with concern. “I thought our navy chased all the pirates away.”
“We have rid our waters of them, but off the southern coast of Africa, pirates are still a very valid concern for merchant ships. Carter, the Captain of my Indiaman, had an encounter with a crew of pirates on his last voyage. Thankfully, his ship was well gunned, and once the pirates realized it, they went on their way. But every now and again, down near the Cape, an empty boat is discovered, floating without sailors or cargo.”
Jamison and Adelaide shared a nervous glance. “What happens to the crew?” Adelaide asked.
Nash swiped his thumb across his neck, causing both of his onlookers to gasp.
“That is quite enough of that.” Cecily stepped into the room, sending Nash a correctional look. “I’m not certain Mrs. Markham would appreciate such tales being told to her five-year-old son.”
Nash grinned at Jamison. “Nonsense. He is plenty old enough. Aren’t you, Jamison?”
“Old enough that Nash brought me a sword from India,” Jamison said as though that was all the proof that was required. “Want to see it?”
“A sword?” Cecily repeated. Her gaze flicked to Nash briefly, but the moment she glimpsed Jamison’s excitement, her incredulity dissipated some. “I would love to see it.”
Jamison hopped up from his seat and darted from the room.
“Look what Nash has brought for me.” Adelaide lifted the ends of a blush-pink shawl that was wrapped around her shoulders.
It looked to be cashmere, and when Cecily stepped closer, she noticed silver needlework along the edges that led to an intricate flower pattern at each corner.
Between the quality of the material and that of the workmanship, it must have been a very costly accessory.
“It is beautiful,” Cecily said, confused why Nash would have felt it necessary to bring something back for Adelaide. Perhaps he had not intended the shawl for her but had felt obligated to offer something as he had presented gifts to his family. Though the soft pink did fit her quite perfectly.
“And look at this.” Adelaide lifted a wooden fan and opened it, revealing a bright, hand-painted floral design on its face. “They are lotus flowers, the symbol of a Hindu goddess named La—” She glanced at Nash with a questioning look.
“Lakshmi.”
“Yes, that was it. Lakshmi.” She flicked her wrist with the fan spread wide, the shift of air causing her blonde curls to lift. “She is the goddess of prosperity and good fortune.”
At that, Cecily could not help but conclude Nash had intended that gift for someone else entirely. Someone who embodied prosperity and good fortune, unlike sweet Adelaide.
“Do not forget, she is also the goddess of beauty,” Nash said, winking in her sister’s direction. Now that connection to Adelaide, Cecily would not deny.
“Oh, yes.” Adelaide gave a small giggle, her cheeks growing rosy. “That as well.”
Cecily reluctantly set her sights on Nash. “That was very thoughtful of you.”
He stood, taking a few steps toward her. “Wait until you see what I have brought for you.”
Her brows lifted. “Me?” Cecily did not know how to respond. The last thing she was expecting was a gift from Nash. She certainly had done nothing to deserve one, though perhaps it was not about her but about impressing others with his generosity. “You do not need to give me anything.”
Nash’s lips twitched at the corners. “I purchased the gifts for you. It would make little sense to give them to someone else.”
Gifts? As in plural? Cecily opened her mouth, but no words came out, so she closed it again.
He took another step toward her. “One item was, unfortunately, slightly sullied in the mud yesterday when my trunk tumbled from the carriage, but Mrs. Ingram has seen to the cleaning of it, and it is as good as new.”
“Here it is!” Jamison ran back into the room, holding a miniature sword. He unsheathed it and handed it to Cecily. A blunt wooden blade made up one end, and a shiny, white material made up the hilt.
“Is this mother-of-pearl?” Cecily asked, running her fingers along the intricate pattern. She’d seen small bits of jewelry made from the iridescent material, but she’d never seen such a large piece. It was mesmerizing.
Nash stepped close. “It is. And this here”—Nash set his hand against Cecily’s on the hilt as if to steady it and pointed to a decorative inlay with his other—“is a tiger’s tooth.”
Jamison nodded in excitement. “From a real tiger!”
Cecily swallowed, her thoughts suddenly muddled.
When her heart started pattering about recklessly, she realized it was the same, silly reaction she’d had to Nash’s touch the other night, and she finally had the sense to release her hold on the sword.
She took a small backward step and rubbed her hand against the skirts of her dress as though that would help dissipate the lingering sensation of his hand against hers.
“I do hope you’ll be careful with it,” she said to Jamison. “It looks rather dangerous.”
As harmless as the sword likely was, Jamison looked absolutely thrilled at the notion. “Nash said I must keep it some place safe where Theo cannot get it.”
“That is wise of your brother.”
Nash ceremoniously handed the miniature sword back to Jamison, who solemnly took it and sheathed it again. The whole thing would have been endearing had Cecily not known Nash was always one for grand theatrics.
“Would you like your gifts now?” Nash’s gaze was locked on Cecily, and both Jamison and Adelaide nodded their heads in excitement .
What else could she do but accept? “I suppose?—”
A knock sounded on the front door, causing Cecily to pause and listen.
It could not be the Rothsburgs already. She had another two hours, at least, until they would come around to gather her for their promenade in Hyde Park.
Caldwell could be heard opening the door, and though she could not hear what was being said, it was clearly a gentleman speaking.
Likely a visitor for Nash or Mr. Markham.
Steps sounded down the corridor, and a moment later, Caldwell stepped through into the library. “For you, Miss Bradshaw.” He presented her with an ivory-colored calling card.
Cecily took it from the silver tray, her brow furrowing and her gaze returning to Caldwell. “Lord Harlow is here?”
“Yes, and he wishes to know if you are at home to visitors.”
She could feel Nash appraising her with an unyielding stare.
“Where is Mrs. Markham?” Cecily asked. She could not see him on her own.
“She has not yet returned from her visits.”
It was odd how relieved Cecily felt at the excuse that was granted her. “As much as I wish it were not the case, tell Lord Harlow that, regretfully, I?—”
“See him to the drawing room, Caldwell,” Nash said, interrupting Cecily. “I shall gladly play chaperone to the couple .”
Caldwell bowed—as if Nash had the final say—and disappeared around the corner.
Cecily turned on Nash, pulling him away from the library door so Lord Harlow would not glimpse them as he was being shown into the drawing room. “Why did you do that? You are not a proper chaperone.”
“Ah, Featherbottom will not mind. He’d likely see you without one if you’d allow it.”
Footsteps sounded just outside the door, and Cecily stilled.
“Besides,” Nash said, not even altering the volume of his voice, “it’s not as though you haven’t spent several of the last few evenings in his company. He likely has come to offer for?—”
She slapped a hand over Nash’s mouth before she could think better of it.
“Why must you always speak so loudly?” she hissed.
Cecily could feel his smiling lips beneath her palm, but despite her vexation and the way her nerves jolted up her arm, she waited for the sound of fading steps before removing her hand.
His teasing smirk was already in place. “I suppose it could have something to do with that very reaction. It seems more a reward than a punishment.”
Cecily aimed a responding glare at him, well aware he spoke of her irritation and not the hand she’d pressed against his mouth.
Then a movement in her periphery reminded her they had an audience.
She drew in a calming breath and turned to face her sister, who looked as delighted by what was happening as Nash did.
“Will you keep your eyes on Jamison while we greet our visitor?”
Adelaide glanced between Nash and Cecily as though she wished for them to remain so she could see where the conversation went, but she must have realized Cecily had no intention of condemning herself further in their younger siblings’ presence. “Of course.”
Cecily gestured for Nash to follow her into the corridor but stopped before the door to the drawing room. “You had better be on your best behavior,” she whispered.
Nash lifted his hands defensively. “I’d not squander this chance for you to become a countess.”