Page 20 of A Match of Misfortune (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #7)

Cecily gave a humorless smile. Then, without another word, she turned from him and made her way into the drawing room. “Lord Harlow, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Miss Bradshaw, I apologize—” His words stopped and his gaze flicked behind her when Nash stepped to her side.

After another moment of uncomfortable silence, Lord Harlow’s eyes returned to hers.

“I apologize for calling on you here and after typical hours for such things. But as I was not able to make it to the Rothsburgs’ today due to some unexpected business, I wanted to make certain that you did not think me neglectful. ”

Cecily had not even considered how he hadn’t visited her at the Rothsburgs’ that day.

“I assure you, I thought no such thing.” She moved toward the settee, gesturing to an armchair nearest to where he stood, and he took a seat.

“Mrs. Markham is not home at the moment, but she should return soon.” Cecily glanced behind her where Nash remained, his appraising gaze fixed on Lord Harlow.

“In the meantime, Mr. Markham has kindly offered to keep us company.”

Lord Harlow offered a tight-lipped smile. “How generous of him.”

Nash grinned. “I thank you for the acknowledgment. I feel quite similarly about the whole situation.”

Cecily closed her eyes, realizing how foolish it had been to hope Nash would behave himself.

“If you’d prefer, Miss Bradshaw and I can take a promenade to Cavendish Square. That way you need not trouble yourself with playing the role of chaperone.”

“Miss Bradshaw’s company never troubles me.”

Lord Harlow dropped his gaze before lifting it again to send Cecily a kind smile. “No. I cannot imagine it does.”

If Cecily had not known of the past discord between the two gentlemen, she might have thought that she had something to do with how ridiculous they were both acting.

Cecily stood, forcing the attention of both men to her and causing Lord Harlow to rise.

“Would anyone care for some refreshment?” She did not wait for them to respond before tugging the bellpull.

“Mr. Markham, perhaps you might request to have Mrs. Ingram bring up some of Cook’s blueberry scones. They are absolutely divine.”

“Thank you,” Lord Harlow said, tipping his head toward her. “ That would be much appreciated. It never ceases to amaze me how churlish one can get when hungry.” His gaze slid to Nash. “You will have one too, will you not?”

Nash quirked a smile. “I must say, I did not expect such wit from you.”

The glint in Lord Harlow’s eyes belied his casual stance. “And I did not expect you to perceive it. It typically takes a keen intellect to decipher the nuances of humor.”

Nash’s hands fisted at his side, and Cecily walked toward him, placing a staying hand on his arm. “Mr. Markham?” Even she could hear the desperation in her voice. “Perhaps you might request tea for our guest as well?”

Nash looked down at her, and his expression softened. “Yes.” He drew in a slow inhale, his chest broadening with the motion. “Of course.”

The sound of footsteps neared the door, and Mrs. Ingram stepped through. She took in the three faces staring back at her, clearly surprised at not finding Mrs. Markham among them, before she turned her attention to Nash.

“Might we have a tea service brought in?” he asked. “Along with some blueberry scones.”

Mrs. Ingram bobbed a curtsy. “Right away, sir.”

Cecily resumed her place across from Lord Harlow, but Nash still stood near the door with his arms crossed. “Will you not take a seat also, Mr. Markham?”

Nash stepped forward, but instead of selecting the chair Cecily had gestured to, he took the seat directly next to Cecily on the settee. She forced herself not to shift away from him, fighting to maintain a calm, pleasant expression.

Lord Harlow’s gaze seemed to tarry on the minimal space between Cecily and Nash before his eyes fixed on Nash. “I was quite surprised to see your name on White’s list for proposed memberships.”

Nash’s hand tapped his thigh in rapid succession. “Yes. Lord Chatting is set on my being accepted. He believes there are many gentlemen at White’s who would benefit from doing business with me.”

“Well, if White’s does not work out for you, perhaps you should try Blackstone’s.”

“Blackstone’s?” Nash’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe I’ve heard of it.”

Lord Harlow gave a knowing smile. “It would be a fitting club for you.”

Another distant knock sounded, and Nash glanced over his shoulder. “Another gentleman caller at the door, I presume.”

A moment later, Caldwell stepped into the drawing room. “Mr. Markham, there is a man here from the docks who wishes to speak with you.”

Nash stood and hastened to the door before pausing on the threshold and pointing at Lord Harlow. “Do not move from that chair. I’ll be back momentarily.”

With Lord Harlow’s affronted expression at Nash’s absurd command, along with her own discomfort at being left temporarily unchaperoned, Cecily tried her hand at a shift in conversation. “Are you to attend Mr. and Mrs. Guilford’s’ dinner party this evening?”

“I am. I assume you will be there also?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He gave a taut smile.

For as handsome of a man as Lord Harlow was, Cecily found speaking with him somewhat unnerving.

He was a suitable conversationalist, so it likely had to do with her inability to determine his preferences and therefore what she might say to prevent him from thinking her a potential match.

“What of your?—”

“Are you certain it was the Dawn of India ?” Nash’s raised voice came from the entry hall, and Cecily stilled, attempting to hear what was being said until she realized that Lord Harlow had done likewise.

“My lord.” Cecily offered a smile she hoped appeared genuine. “Will you tell me of your country estate?”

Lord Harlow’s gaze fixed on her, but she could tell he had not heard her question.

“This cannot be,” Nash’s voice was quieter now, but with the intensity of his tone, it carried into the room as if he’d spoken the words aloud to them. “They must be mistaken.”

“You said it is near Bath?” Cecily tried again, desperate to draw attention away from Nash and his conversation. Whatever was being relayed, it did not sound like good news, which meant Nash would not wish for Lord Harlow to hear it.

“My estate?” Lord Harlow said, finally refocusing on Cecily.

“Yes. I wish to hear all about it.”

“Nash, dear.” It was Mrs. Markham’s voice. She must have just arrived home. “Whatever is the matter?”

Cecily shot from her seat and, despite how improper it was to be in a room alone with Lord Harlow, she closed the door so swiftly the sound reverberated through her.

“Forgive me,” She offered Lord Harlow a sheepish smile and resumed her place on the settee.

“I cannot think with all the noise. Now please, you were to tell me about your estate?”

He hesitated, whether from her odd behavior or his disappointment at not being able to overhear the conversation, she could not be certain.

“It is less than half a day’s ride from Bath,” he finally said, thankfully complying.

“Near a charming village …” His words faded into one another as Cecily’s mind drifted to what news Nash had received.

After a minute or two of the one-sided conversation, the door opened and Mrs. Markham slipped inside. Lord Harlow stood.

“Lord Harlow, might I present Mrs. Markham, a dear friend of my family’s?” Cecily searched Mrs. Markham’s expression for any hint of what might have happened, but if something had occurred, Mrs. Markham’s expression did not show it.

Lord Harlow bowed. “Mrs. Markham. What a pleasure it is.”

“The pleasure is mine,” she said.

“I apologize for my unannounced visit.” Lord Harlow sent Cecily a knowing smile that wriggled uncomfortably inside her. “I admit I was desperate to see Miss Bradshaw again.”

“There is no need to apologize,” Mrs. Markham assured him. “I am only sorry I was not here to welcome you into our home. Might we offer you some refreshments?”

“Your son actually requested a tea service be brought up,” Lord Harlow said, as if to reassure her they had not been alone the whole of his visit.

“But I have just noticed the time and regret that I must take my leave. Perhaps I could return to try one of those blueberry scones Miss Bradshaw mentioned.”

“You would be most welcome.”

He stood, bowed in front of Mrs. Markham, then made his way to Cecily. “I shall see you tonight,” he said, reaching for her hand. She lifted it to him, and he placed a kiss atop her knuckles. For as handsome as he was, no energy or rush of pleasure came.

When he had bid them one last farewell and taken his leave, Mrs. Markham waited for the click of the front door before she turned her attention to Cecily. Her expression, previously free of emotion, was now filled with worry.

“Where is Nash?” Cecily asked, nervous to hear the answer.

“He has gone to the docks to see if he can verify the news he just received.”

Cecily pulled in a breath. “What news?”

Mrs. Markham shook her head, tears filling her eyes. “His ship has wrecked.”