Page 31 of A Match of Misfortune (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #7)

Chapter Eighteen

R ain dumped from the skies, but there was nowhere to take cover. The doorsteps of some of the townhouses they passed had small overhangs, but nothing was large enough for both Cecily and Nash to find shelter under. Their best option was to continue to the Markhams’.

Cecily’s skirts were soaked through, and water had saturated her walking boots, but thankfully, Nash had insisted she take his coat when the rain had first begun to fall.

Between that and her bonnet, the top half of her was still warm and dry.

As they made their way through the streets of Marylebone, she kept her head down, allowing Nash to pull her along.

“Let’s turn here.” Nash led her onto the lane of mews behind his parents’ townhouse. “It will be quicker, and we can go in through the back.”

Cecily’s breaths were coming fast and hard, and her legs were protesting with each step.

Nash’s stride was twice what hers was, and the hurried pace was becoming near impossible to maintain.

By the time they reached the Markhams’ back garden, Cecily felt as though she might be sick.

“Can we take a moment to catch our breaths before going in?” she asked, her chest heaving and her throat tight.

Nash guided her beneath the portico at the rear of the house, and Cecily leaned against one of the columns for support.

She closed her eyes, tilting her head upwards to better draw in air.

Despite the chill and the way her hands and feet were numb with cold, the rest of her was eager for a respite from the heat that the thick wool coat and strenuous pace had caused, and she allowed Nash’s coat to fall open.

When her breaths were coming more easily and her head had stopped spinning, she opened her eyes.

Nash stood before her, his beaver beneath his arm and his gaze locked on her.

Droplets of water dripped from the ends of his hair and down his face and neck, and it was only then she realized how thoroughly drenched he was.

His shirtsleeves clung to his skin, and his breeches were a far darker shade than they had been a quarter of an hour ago.

“You are completely soaked through,” she said, straightening to remove his coat so that she might return it to him.

He took a step closer, stopping her. “I am fine. Keep it until we go inside.”

She gave a timid nod, her heart rate once again increasing, but this time because of how close he stood and the curious expression he wore. “What are you thinking about?” she asked, hardly certain she wished to know.

“My luck.”

She tucked her hands behind her, gripping the column to ground herself. “What about it?”

He leaned in, resting his hand on the pillar above her. “How badly I want it back.”

Her stomach swooped, well aware of precisely what he implied.

She would not have it. She had been here before, but she was stronger now.

More capable of discernment. Nash Markham was a flirt, plain and simple.

She didn’t doubt he wanted to kiss her, but she knew a kiss would mean little to him.

In truth, it likely did not matter if it was Cecily or another young lady standing here.

The thought rallied her. “You may have forgotten, being away so long, but it does rain here all the time. I cannot think the cat had anything to do with it.”

“You don’t find the timing odd in the least?”

Cecily hoped he couldn’t see the truth of it in her eyes. “Not exceptionally so.”

“Despite the sound logic you gave earlier, it seems only fair that we make another attempt to switch it back.”

Cecily’s stomach fluttered. “I can’t help but think you have a secondary motive for making the request.”

Nash only smiled, confirming her claim.

Cecily forced her gaze downward in an effort to maintain control of herself. She could not allow her resolve to weaken. She needed to show Nash she was not that same naive girl from all those years ago. And she needed to prove it to herself. “Must it be a kiss on the hand?”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, as though attempting to determine if she were in earnest. “I can’t think the specifics of the kiss matter … only that one occurs.”

“Would a kiss on the cheek suffice?” She tilted her head back, resting it on the column. “Or to make certain it works, perhaps a kiss on the lips is preferable?”

Nash’s gaze dropped to her mouth with such longing, Cecily nearly laughed aloud. Was this what it felt like to be a shameless flirt? She could see why Nash enjoyed it so much.

“I’m not entirely certain. But I would not be opposed to making a few attempts if you are agreeable.”

Cecily smiled, unable to hide her delight any longer. “It would make sense to be as thorough as possible.”

His gaze flicked to her lips again, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Undoubtedly.”

“Very well.” Cecily lifted her hand to his cheek, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver through her body.

Focusing on his reaction instead of the mad frenzy going on inside of her, she held his gaze.

“My luck is yours to have,” she whispered, resting her other hand on his chest as she rose up slightly on her toes. “All of it.”

His chest was rising and falling beneath his saturated clothing, and he closed his eyes as his face dipped toward hers.

For the briefest of moments, she wanted nothing more than to actually touch her lips to his, to feel the heat of them against hers.

Instead, she dropped back onto her feet and lowered her hand from his face, holding the other more firmly against him to halt his approach.

He swayed backward and his eyes fluttered open.

“On second thought,” she said with an overdone frown, “we should probably get you inside. With how wet you are, I would hate for you to take ill from the cold.”

There was a mixture of disappointment and amusement battling for dominance in his expression. Amusement won out. “How long have you been waiting for that opportunity?”

Cecily tried to repress her smile as she ducked beneath his arm and stepped around him to reach the door. “I have no notion what you’re talking about.”

Nash chuckled, pressing off of the column and following her inside. “I can’t believe I fell for it. You tricky little minx.”

She stopped just past the threshold and gave a small curtsy, as though he’d offered her a great compliment. “I learned from one of England’s most distinguished flirts.”

His booming laughter echoed through the dining room. Then he took a step closer, closing the door behind him and hovering just inches from her. “Clearly you’ve surpassed me.”

Cecily cocked her head back to better meet his gaze. “Are you certain it was you I was speaking of?”

“Is that an attempt to make me jealous?” His eyes narrowed, then a smile touched his lips. “Because if so, it’s working. ”

Cecily smiled triumphantly.

“I thought I heard voices.” Mrs. Markham stepped into the dining room, then paused, glancing between Nash and Cecily with a look of confusion.

It was likely due to their current state—soaked through and dripping.

Though it could also be how close they stood to one another.

Since Nash did not seem concerned by their proximity, Cecily withdrew a step from him.

“The axle on the Rothsburgs’ carriage broke,” Nash offered before his mother asked. “Miss Bradshaw and I had to make our way home on foot.”

Mrs. Markham’s brow puckered at the center. “Heavens! Was anyone hurt?”

“No. It was only the two of us inside at the time.”

Her expression became veiled. “Oh. That is fortunate, I suppose.”

Nash gave a thoughtful hum while Cecily pulled the bonnet from her head and tucked the saturated ribbons inside. She glanced down to see a few puddles of water gathering beneath their dripping clothes.

“Let me ring for a servant,” Mrs. Markham said, moving to the bellpull. “I shall have some blankets brought in so you may dry yourselves off.”

It was a few minutes later when Mrs. Ingram walked in with a stack of blankets. Cecily shrugged off Nash’s coat, the bite of the air sending a shiver through her. “Here you are. Thank you for allowing me to use it.”

Nash draped it over his arm and took one of Mrs. Ingram’s blankets, wrapping it around Cecily’s shoulders.

Her heart squeezed at the tenderness of the gesture and at his seeing to her needs first. Until she reminded herself it was all a show for his mother.

Chiding herself, Cecily started toward the doorway.

“Oh, Nash,” Mrs. Markham said. “Not quite thirty minutes ago, Mr. Steele stopped by to speak with you. ”

Nash stood from where he was helping Mrs. Ingram dry up the puddles on the floor. “Did he leave a note?”

“No, but he said he would be at 34 George Street in Marylebone until three and that if he did not see you there, he would attempt another visit tomorrow.” Mrs. Markham glanced at the clock resting on the dining room mantel. “It is only a quarter after two. You can still make it if you hurry.”

“Might I take the carriage?”

“Certainly. I shall have Caldwell see it readied while you change.”

“Thank you,” he said, stepping past his mother, but he paused before Cecily. “I’ll be back in time to join you and the Rothsburgs at the park.”

Cecily smiled her relief. Lord Harlow would most likely be there, but he would likely not seek an audience with her if Nash and she were together. Yes, that was the reason she wished him there. “Considering the state of the Rothsburgs’ carriage, that would certainly be helpful.”

“I believe they have a second, but in case I’m mistaken, I’d best be on my way.” He took hold of her hand and placed a quick kiss on her knuckles. “I’ll see you shortly.”

No matter that Nash’s gesture was all for show, Cecily couldn’t seem to prevent the heat from flooding her face. And the color only deepened when she realized Mrs. Markham was watching her with a calculating look.

“I suppose Adelaide is in the drawing room?” Cecily asked before Mrs. Markham could ask whatever was brewing in her thoughts.

Mrs. Markham nodded.

“I purchased a new frame for her, but it won’t arrive until later today, so I bought her some ribbons as well.”

Mrs. Markham’s expression softened. “That was thoughtful of you. She has been a touch melancholy today.”

Cecily lifted her reticule, glad she had kept it beneath Nash’s coat to keep its contents dry. “Then perhaps I should also offer her one or two of the sweets I bought for the boys at the confectioners. There is plenty to share.”

Mrs. Markham exhaled, tilting her head to one side. “Cecily, I hope you know that, if there is anything you wish to speak to me about, I am willing and eager to listen.”

Cecily’s heart lifted into her chest, but she could not find the words.

Or, more likely, she could not find the courage to speak the whole truth.

Not when Mrs. Markham would encourage her to open her heart to one of the gentlemen pursuing her.

She had no intention of doing so. Her course was set, and no one would be the poorer for it. “I know.”

Mrs. Markham’s gaze roved over her, and Cecily worried she meant to press the subject, but then her eyes settled on the blanket wrapped around her. “Why don’t you go change as well? You can join us in the drawing room when you’ve finished.”

Relief flooded over Cecily at Mrs. Markham’s mercy. “I shall be down shortly.”

There was nothing that made Cecily more unsettled than deception.

Except, possibly, the way Nash could put every part of her into turmoil with a simple glance or touch.

It was a sensation she typically abhorred—feeling so entirely out of control of herself—and yet, she’d recklessly invited it.

And more stupidly still, she found that she looked forward to their next interaction. Heaven help her.