Page 38 of A Match of Misfortune (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #7)

Chapter Twenty-Two

T he driving rain continued outside, but the drawing room was warm with firelight and good company.

At the insistence of the others, Nash had spent the better part of an hour sharing stories of India, and though everyone else appeared enthralled by his tales, Cecily did not.

Occasionally he could sense her velvet-brown eyes lingering on him, but the moment he met her gaze, she would glance away again.

When others would laugh, she only offered cordial smiles—smiles that did not even reach her eyes.

After their friendly exchanges earlier, he couldn’t help but wonder what had gone wrong.

At least her sudden disinterest had adequately distracted Nash from his current state of unease.

Not only was he constantly thinking of his ship and what he was to do now that the wreck had been confirmed, but he also had a decision to make regarding Johnathan’s offer.

He glanced at the clock. He would need to leave within the hour to ensure he arrived at the East India Docks before five.

Nash’s visit to Blackstone’s the previous night had proven promising.

More than promising, really. Despite being told of the nearly certain fate of the Dawn of India , several gentlemen were not only interested in his shipping venture but enthusiastic regarding it.

And yet, each time he thought of the potential consequences that might come with rejecting Johnathan’s offer, doubt consumed him.

The risk was not his alone. Perhaps, if he had his luck back, he would not worry so much, but as it stood, his confidence at finding success had been greatly diminished.

“Mr. Crauford sounds like a most intimidating man,” Lady Bridget said, causing Nash to refocus his attention.

“He can be,” Nash confirmed. “But he is also generous and one of the most capable men I’ve encountered. I’ve never seen anyone better at bartering than he is. If I brought a horse to market, he’d somehow convince me I should give it to him and also pay him a sum for its upkeep.”

Fredrick’s attention was riveted. “How is it you met him?”

“He was a good friend of my father’s from school.

His story is rather tragic, though.” The ensuing silence made it evident that the others wished for him to continue.

“He married a young lady against her parents’ wishes.

They disowned her, and she died not long after giving birth to their only child—a little girl.

Cut off from everyone and desperate to prove himself, Mr. Crauford made his way to India.

” Nash related to that part of his story—the proving himself.

Not that he had done a tolerable job at it.

“Did he take the little girl?” Adelaide asked, clearly concerned.

“Yes, though Miss Crauford is nineteen now.” He gave a small chuckle at the memory of Honora and her stubborn ways. Mr. Crauford certainly had his hands full with her. “She’s as intimidating as her father, though in a different way. Her hair is as fiery as her personality.”

Cecily shifted in her seat, and her chin raised ever so slightly.

A part of him wished to rattle her, to let her think that she truly had a reason to be jealous, but a different part of him won out.

“ Not that I saw her often. Mr. Crauford has always been very protective of his daughter. Which makes sense, considering she is all he has.”

“That is a tragic tale,” Mother said. “Though I’m grateful for all he has done for you over the years.”

“As am I.” Nash glanced around at the attentive faces watching him, though Cecily’s gaze had lowered again. “That is quite enough storytelling for the time being. How about we play a game now?”

“Do you have one in mind?”

“I do,” Lady Bridget said with a widening smile.

“My mother just wrote to me about a French parlor game they have enjoyed playing during their time abroad. The name of it is …” She pursed her lips as though attempting to recall the name.

“I can’t remember. Though I believe it starts with an S.

Anyhow, it does not matter what the game is called.

How it is played is that everyone writes a word on a slip of paper, then drops it into a hat.

We each take turns drawing one slip, then act out what it says.

The trick is you cannot make any sounds or mouth what the word is. ”

“Need it be only one word?” Fredrick asked. “Or can it be longer? Like a phrase?”

Lady Bridget gave a thoughtful hum. “Let’s try it with just a word. We can always decide to allow more later.” Her eyes lit up. “Oh. The game is called charades. So not an S, but close enough.”

“It sounds delightful,” Cecily said.

Mother stood. “I shall gather some pencils and slips of paper.”

“We can use my hat,” Rothsburg said, following her out of the drawing room to fetch it.

They both returned a few minutes later, and the supplies were passed out to each person.

Nash considered what word to write, but in the need to supply one, he found his mind void of all ideas.

Finally, one came to him. He quickly jotted it down and folded the piece of paper before placing it in Rothsburg’s hat.

Lady Bridget went first, pulling out a slip and reading it, only to give a frown.

“That is another thing. You cannot act out your own word, nor say it when it is being guessed.” She dropped her word back into the hat and selected a different strip.

“This is a good one.” She moved her fingers up and down in a sort of wave, lowering her hands as she did so.

“Rain,” Cecily called right as the word had come to Nash.

“Yes!” She handed Cecily the word strip. “Oh, and the person who guesses the most correctly is the winner.”

“That would have been handy to know,” Rothsburg said with a pointed smile. “I knew the word, but I was enjoying your enactment too much to end it.”

Lady Bridget blushed. “Well, that is your own fault. Who is next?”

Fredrick stood and selected a paper. He gave a little chuckle, then lowered down onto all fours, letting out a loud moo.

“Cow!” Everyone except Rothsburg yelled it in unison.

Lady Bridget tsked. “That is exactly why no sounds are to be made. Unfortunately, no one wins that round.”

Fredrick gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“I’ll go next,” Rothsburg said as he stood.

Nash leaned forward in his chair, set on claiming victory with this one. Cecily did likewise.

After reading the slip of paper, Rothsburg seemed to consider what he might do for a long moment.

“Can he think for this long?” Fredrick said with a grin. “Surely it is an unfair advantage.”

His brother shot him a look. “Says the one who mooed like a cow. Besides, mine is a fair amount harder than yours was.”

Lady Bridget pointed a warning finger at him. “You can’t give any hints. ”

“It wasn’t a hint. It was a fact.” He exhaled a heavy breath, still looking uncertain of what he was about to do. He gestured to Nash.

“Man,” Mother called out. “Merchant.”

“Cousin,” Nash attempted.

“Flirt!” Cecily wore a teasing smile when his gaze met hers, the others laughing at her answer.

Nash’s lips parted in feigned offense. He was simply glad she was no longer ignoring him. “Flirt?”

She gave him a little shrug. “You are.”

Rothsburg shook his head, gestured to Nash again, then did an exaggerated arch and pointed out the window.

“India,” Adelaide said.

Rothsburg clapped his hands together loudly. “Well done. I was sure no one would guess it.”

Adelaide’s cheeks grew pink when he handed her the paper. “I’ll go next.”

Fredrick retrieved the hat for her, and she picked out a word. Upon reading it, she smiled and set it on her lap. Placing her arms together and lowering them down, she rocked her arms from side to side.

“Baby,” Cecily said right before Nash and his mother called out the same. She was far too quick.

Lady Bridget gestured at Cecily. “It is Cecily’s again. Now who’s next?”

Cecily and Mother shared a glance, as though trying to decide who would go, until Mother stood. After reading her slip of paper, she also pointed at Nash before pointing at Cecily as well.

“Match,” Lady Bridget called.

“Marriage,” Fredrick said.

Mother shook her head, but her hands moved in a roundabout gesture as though they were on the right track.

“Love,” Nash hollered, and he did not miss the way Cecily’s gaze shot to him, though he pretended not to notice. Let her try to make something of that.

“Betrothal,” both Rothsburg and Fredrick said at nearly the same time.

“Yes.” Mother glanced between them. “Who said it first?”

“I did,” they again said in unison.

Mother looked to Lady Bridget as though she were the final say.

“Tear it in half. They can each receive half a point.”

Rothsburg gave a huff. “He can have it.”

Lady Bridget put a hand on her husband’s, giving an affectionate squeeze, and Nash was not the least bit surprised to see Cecily watching them with a look of admiration. Again, he couldn’t help but wonder at her reasons for not wanting to marry.

“Would you like to go next?” Cecily asked, meeting his stare.

Nash shook his head and gestured for her to go. “Ladies first.”

There were only two words left, and one was his. Cecily put her hand into the hat and pulled out a slip of paper. Her gaze lifted to Nash, then flicked to the ceiling.

Nash smiled. She’d gotten his word.

Looking less than thrilled, she lifted the back of her hand and pressed her lips to it.

“Kiss!” Lady Bridget shouted with a victorious smile.

Cecily handed her the paper.

“That seemed far too easy,” Nash said, and by the look Cecily returned, she was well aware of what he actually implied.

“As this is the last round, let’s see where everyone stands regarding points,” Lady Bridget said. “I believe Cecily is winning with two.” Cecily shot Nash a pointed smirk. “Fredrick, Adelaide, and I each have one. And the rest of you have not yet won. But here is your chance.”