Page 23 of A Match of Misfortune (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #7)

Cecily clasped her hands in her lap, attempting to remain unaffected by his teasing. “Why does it not surprise me you would make such an absurd conclusion so wholly unrelated to the truth? ”

“What other conclusions have I made that were unfounded?”

She cursed herself for having hinted at the very last thing she wished for him to recall. Hopefully, he would not decipher her meaning.

“Are you referencing our moments together”—he glanced around before his smiling eyes returned to hers—“in this very room all those years ago?”

Cecily’s entire body heated at the memory. “I suppose that would be a fitting example.”

He chuckled, leaning forward. “Would it be? For I’m quite certain my conclusions, particularly the last one I shared, were not the least bit unfounded.”

Color now saturated Cecily’s cheeks, but before she could say anything in her defense, the sound of Adelaide’s chair right outside halted her.

“Sorry that took so long,” Adelaide said as Sarah pushed her toward them, the filigreed box in her lap.

Her gaze fell to Nash, and she smiled when she realized his mood seemed to have improved.

It did not matter that it had been accomplished at Cecily’s expense.

“We first went to the drawing room looking for it until I remembered I had shown it to Mr. Markham earlier in the dining room.”

Nash leaned forward, appraising the box now patterned with an intricate design. “That is incredible,” he said, his amazement genuine. “Each of those is a piece of rolled paper?”

Adelaide nodded and extended it toward him. “Here, you can hold it.”

He shook his head. “I can see it well enough.”

“It is sturdier than it looks,” Adelaide said, persisting.

Nash’s gaze slid to Cecily, who watched the exchange with curious amusement.

Why did he suddenly seem so skittish? Did he think he was going to break it?

Slowly, he lifted his hands, as though she were going to hand him the world’s most fragile treasure and not a small wooden box.

She set it on his opened palms, but he didn’t move.

Well, he moved, but it was his head that shifted around the stationary box in his hands.

Cecily covered her smile with her hand.

“It is beautiful,” he said, glancing again at Adelaide, clearly wanting her to take it back, and he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when she did. “Your talent is truly remarkable.”

“Thank you.” Adelaide’s expression was so full of pride at his praise, Cecily’s heart swelled. It seemed not all Nash’s compliments were overdone and insincere.

“Are you two ready?” Mrs. Markham asked, entering the library. “Oh, and Nash. You are here. Are you to come with us also?”

Nash stood. “If you are not opposed.”

“Of course not.” She beamed at him. “We should be glad to have you along.”

“The carriage is out front,” Mr. Markham said, stepping through the door to join his wife. His gaze fell on Nash, and he smiled. “Son.”

Nash dipped his head. “Father.”

“Well, should we be on our way?” Mr. Markham moved behind Adelaide’s chair before addressing Sarah. “We shall likely return around eleven, so until then, take the evening for yourself.”

Sarah bobbed a curtsy. “Thank you, sir.”

Adelaide handed Sarah her filigree box, then sent her doting maid a wave of farewell as Mr. Markham steered her toward the open door.

It was evident by the flush in her sister’s cheeks and her constant smile that she was eager to join them.

The thought made Cecily grateful to Bridget for her kindness in having included her in the invitation.

“You look very handsome this evening,” Mrs. Markham said as Nash approached her. Cecily glanced away, lest he realized she agreed .

“Thank you, Mother.” He gestured for her to walk through the door before him and allowed Cecily to as well.

Mrs. Markham took hold of Cecily’s hand, glancing over at her. “And you look as enchanting as ever.”

A loud boom caused the two of them to startle and spin on their heels. Nash clutched his shoulder, steadying the still swinging door.

“There is a door there,” Mr. Markham said, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“I realize that now.” Nash gave a wry smile. “Though I appreciate your heartfelt concern.”

Mr. Markham laughed, resuming pushing Adelaide’s chair. “Perhaps it would help if you were to keep your eyes in the direction you’re walking.”

Mrs. Markham bit back her smile and moved to secure the chair as her husband scooped up Adelaide to carry her outside.

Cecily, still uncertain of his meaning, glanced at Nash. His face blazed red. In all their interactions, she’d never seen him appear so embarrassed. What had he been looking at?

He leaned in close as they waited for Caldwell and a footman to carry out the invalid chair. “That was your fault, you know.”

“My fault? How do you suppose?”

His gaze flitted downward for the briefest of moments, and Cecily realized she had been the distraction. The thought sent a surge of delight through her, though only because she had previously assumed him to be unaffected by her. It seemed their forthcoming interactions would be a touch more fair.

“Here I thought you were referring to me taking your luck again,” she said, barely restraining her smile.

“A reasonable conclusion, considering I certainly don’t have it back.”

It had been a difficult week for him, but Cecily could not think an exchange of his luck truly had anything to do with it, for she felt no luckier than before.

Less so, in truth, with how many gentlemen were still eager to court her.

Fortune would know that was the last thing she wanted.

“It does seem odd. We were very particular about carrying out your designated process with exactness.”

He stopped in the empty doorway, facing her with a jocular look in response to her sarcasm. “I’ve thought about it a fair amount, and I fear we missed a crucial step.”

“And what is that?”

“After speaking the words I had you repeat,”—one side of his mouth lifted ever so slightly upward—“I kissed your hand.”

Cecily laughed, shaking her head. “If that is what is required of me, it seems you must become accustomed to a life of misfortune.”

He hardly seemed concerned by her dismissal. “Oh, but we have already agreed upon the trade. You cannot go back on it now.”

“Since I have asked nothing of you, it is hardly a binding agreement.”

“I beg to differ. It is not my fault you have not thought of anything you desire yet.”

Unable to hold his teasing gaze a moment longer, she turned from him and started down the steps to where Mr. Markham was overseeing the invalid chair being secured to the back of the carriage.

Cecily could not deny she had considered her initial idea several times over the past few days, but in each instance, she had again decided against it.

Partially because of her general feelings regarding the man; partially because she now feared a feigned fondness would not deter suitors, so a more drastic strategy would be required, such as an actual betrothal, if only a temporary one; and partially because her pride would not allow for it.

Apparently, she’d rather suffer under countless hours of unwanted attention from a slew of gentlemen than make such a request of Nash.

Six years ago, Cecily had seen firsthand the effects of Nash Markham’s charming deceptions, and she would not bring about an arrangement where there was even a chance she would fall prey to them a second time.

A conclusion that was further confirmed when Nash lifted his hand to assist her into the carriage, and a wave of pleasure raced up her arm from his touch.

“You are here!” Bridget hurried down the middle of the split staircase as the Markhams, along with Cecily and Adelaide, were admitted into the entry hall. Several large bouquets Cecily had insisted they keep filled the surfaces. “You are here!”

“We are.” Mrs. Markham was sidled up next to Mr. Markham, while Nash was at the helm of Adelaide’s chair. “Thank you for the invitation.”

“Of course. Dinner will be ready soon, but for now, Oswald and Fredrick are awaiting us in the drawing room.” Bridget gestured the group toward the room where Cecily had taken her morning callers each day.

Her gaze settled on Adelaide. “I’m particularly delighted you have joined us.

As Fredrick is only two years older than you, I thought he’d much prefer your company to ours. ”

Adelaide sent Cecily a timid glance, and though Cecily felt every bit as nervous as her sister looked, she gave an encouraging nod.

The Bradshaw sisters had first met Fredrick at the Markhams’ wedding more than six years ago, when he was only a boy of ten.

Though they had not met him again since, Cecily knew that Bridget would be thoughtful enough to remind him of Adelaide’s ailment before their arrival.

Bridget stepped through the drawing room doors just ahead of them. “Look who has arrived.”

Lord Rothsburg smiled his greeting, and Fredrick, who looked like a younger version of his older brother, with bright eyes, curly dark hair, and an inviting smile, hurried forward to greet the group of them. “Uncle, Aunt, how good it is to see you both! And Nash!” The two cousins shared an embrace.

“Fredrick,” Mr. Markham said, stepping up to shake his hand. “You must have grown a foot since I’ve last seen you.”

“It has been far too long.” Fredrick placed his hands behind his back, his attention shifting to Mrs. Markham. “I don’t think I’ve even met your youngest son yet. How old is he now?”

“Theo is nearly two.”

“Two?” Fredrick shook his head. “I shall be certain to come pay you a visit soon. I’d very much like to see Jamison again as well.”

The young man was even more charming than Cecily remembered, and she glanced at Adelaide to see if her sister’s expression matched her own. It did.

Mrs. Markham gave an approving nod. “You would be most welcome.”