Page 39 of A Match of Misfortune (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #7)
Nash stood, reaching his hand into the hat and pulling out the remaining word. “As this is the last one, do I get a point if someone guesses it?”
Lady Bridget shook her head.
His gaze flitted to Cecily’s twinkling, victorious eyes, and he bit back his own amusement. If this was the treatment he was to receive at her triumphs—secret looks and taunting smiles—he’d gladly let her win from now on. At least when it came to silly parlor games.
When he read his slip of paper, he gave a subtle shake of his head. This was almost certainly the word Cecily had put in. Sure enough, when his gaze lifted, Cecily was smiling knowingly, clearly eager for him to make a fool out of himself attempting it.
He gestured to himself, which made her full smile break through.
“This again?” Rothsburg said with a laugh before others started calling out their answers.
“Nabob.”
“Tall.”
“Ogre,” Rothsburg hollered.
Nash pinned his cousin with an unimpressed look, then lifted his hand and pointed at it.
“Hand.”
“Hurt.”
“Bandage.”
Everyone was making an attempt besides Cecily, who simply watched Nash growing more flustered with each wrong answer.
He shook his head. Lifting a finger for them to wait while he attempted something else, he lifted both arms upward and pretended to lean them against the hearth like a ladder before dropping his hands and stepping under where he had just been.
Cecily laughed, clearly understanding his meaning, but everyone else simply looked perplexed .
“How long is he allowed?” Rothsburg asked, causing Nash to send him another scowl.
Lady Bridget’s nose wrinkled, watching Nash. “That is a good question. Let’s give him one more attempt.”
He needed to think of a more pointed example.
He could attempt a cat, but without being able to make noises, it would likely be ineffective.
In truth, he wasn’t certain his pride would allow for it anyway.
He glanced around the room, desperate for an idea.
Taking a slight backward step, he caught his heel on the edge of the hearth and teetered backward before catching himself on the mantel with his injured hand.
All the ladies gasped, and Rothsburg shot to his feet, taking hold of Nash and pulling him away from the fire. “Was that part of your charade?”
Despite the acute ache in his hand, Nash forced a chuckle, hoping to put everyone at ease. It seemed to work. “Not intentionally, but it is fitting.”
“Luck,” Mother said before anyone else had time to process his hint.
Nash smiled and held out the slip of paper. “It took you long enough.”
“Your atrocious acting skills certainly had nothing to do with it,” Rothsburg said.
“Because yours were better? Besides, how much clearer can this be?” Nash lifted his injured hand again, and a second round of gasps sounded.
“You’re bleeding.” Adelaide pointed at the bandage. The center of the linen was now stained red.
No wonder it hurt so dashed badly. He must have reopened his cut. “It seems I am.” He tucked his hand behind his back and started toward the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go tend to it.”
As he made his way upstairs, he allowed his thoughts to drift to Cecily again, trying to pinpoint the moment she’d become distant .
He reached his current room before reaching any conclusions, so he simply moved to the dressing table and began to unwrap his linen bandage. A tapping at the still-open door had him glancing over his shoulder. “Yes?”
Surprisingly, it was not his mother but Cecily who peeked her head inside.
“Bridget suggested I see if you could use some help.” It was apparent she didn’t want him to think she’d come on her own, and Nash couldn’t help but wonder again how she’d gone from teasing him with an almost kiss the day before and asking him for help with her buttons that morning to appearing so aloof.
The constant swinging of her pendulum made him dizzy.
“You’re welcome to assist, if you’re able.” He didn’t require the help, not really, but he wouldn’t complain about securing a little time with Cecily.
She hesitated briefly on the threshold before stepping through. “What can I do?”
“Just be an extra set of hands when I require it.” He finished unwrapping the bandage, set it aside, and dipped his hand in the water basin.
It took all his willpower to not wince in front of her.
Once it was submerged, he set to cleaning the blood from his palm.
The cut was both long and deep, as the shard of glass had sliced his skin before settling itself in the fleshy part beneath his thumb.
If the wound continued to open, he’d likely require a surgeon to stitch it closed, though he hoped it would not come to that.
He took hold of a cloth to dry his hands, pausing to have a glance at how the cut looked now that he’d cleaned off most of the blood.
“Congratulations on your victory in charades,” he said, realizing Cecily hadn’t spoken again since coming inside.
“Thank you.” Her voice was breathy, and he glanced behind him to find her seated on the chest at the foot of the bed, her face pale.
“Are you well? ”
“Yes, I …” She gave a little shake of her head and leaned forward in the chair. She paused, drawing in a long, slow breath.
“Cecily?” He made his way to where she sat and kneeled before her. “What is the matter?”
“I think it’s the blood.”
“Do you need to lie down? I can help you to the bed if you wish.”
She shook her head. “I simply need a moment.” Cecily closed her eyes, her breathing slow and intentional. After a minute or two, the color returned to her cheeks, and she peeked open an eye. Only then did Nash realize he’d simply been kneeling there watching her.
“Forgive me. Your hand, is it …”
He placed the hand down by his side so she wouldn’t glimpse it again. “Do not worry yourself. I can tend to it.”
Cecily gave a timid nod, and Nash retrieved the fresh strips of linen from the bureau.
His mother had insisted on dressing his hand the previous night upon his return, but he was confident he could manage it on his own.
Yet with only one hand, maintaining a tight enough wrap while also securing the end proved somewhat trickier than he had expected.
Cecily stood. “Here. I can help you now that you’ve started.”
“You needn’t?—”
“I’m quite recovered.” She stepped to his side, and Nash did not miss the way she positioned her back to the dressing table where the discarded bandage and the washbasin sat.
When she took hold of his hand, the sensation of her soft skin on his sent a strange—and now somewhat familiar—longing through him.
She secured the first linen strip and began wrapping a second. “Is this tight enough?”
Nash nodded, unable to speak the confirmation.
She glanced up at him, and again, he found he was watching her. Gawking more like. But before he could glance away, she returned her focus to the dressing of his hand. What was the matter with him?
“How did your meeting with Mr. Steele go last night?” she asked.
“He offered me a partnership in his shipping company. If I agree to join him, he will guarantee payment for my investors’ original funds.”
Her gaze flicked to him. “And if you do not?”
“If my ship has truly run aground, as Johnathan’s contacts have all but confirmed, my investors will not only lose the profits they’ve been expecting, but the maritime insurance will likely only repay a portion of their original investments.
A sum that will take considerable time to collect.
” He shook his head. “I cannot bear the idea of anyone losing money on my account, particularly when they are clients of my father’s bank.
I would hate for it to affect their future dealings with him. ”
“But …?” she said, encouraging him to go on as she continued to wrap his hand.
“But Lord Blackstone, the gentleman I went to speak with last night, has heard nothing about my ship. Not even a whisper. He is an odd man, to be sure, which makes me hesitant to rely on what he says, but so many others seem to hold his word as an absolute, my father among them. And he did seem to be extremely well informed.” He released an unintentional sigh.
“I can’t help but wonder if I’m being willfully blind to the truth because I don’t want to work for Johnathan.
I would have no autonomy. Very little say in the business. ”
He paused, his heart pounding at the reason that sat on the tip of his tongue. “I would remain in India indefinitely.”
Her hands stilled, but she kept her gaze down. “Was that not already the plan?” Was there a slight waver in her voice, or was Nash simply imagining there was?
“No. One of my driving motivations for starting a shipping company is that, hopefully sooner rather than later, I can return to England. I want to be near my family.” He yearned for Cecily to look up at him so she could see the truth in his eyes, but she did not. “I want to start my own family here.”
Her fingers moved in a sudden burst of motion, and she hastily secured the next linen strip in place and grabbed another.
“Well …” She gave a small clearing of her throat.
“I’m certain if it were up to your parents, they would much prefer to lose a portion of their original investment than have you forever an ocean away from them, especially if you are to be dissatisfied with your position there. ”
Cecily had always been the practical sort, and he did not doubt she was correct in her reasoning.
His parents would wish for him to return to England eventually, despite the personal cost. And, although he was likely putting more stock into her reaction than he should, he wondered if Cecily might want him here too.
“So, if you were me, you would not accept the offer?”
She gave a small shrug. “With how little I know of your situation, I would not dare voice my opinion.”
He waited in the silence, certain she had more she wished to say.
“But I suppose, though I can understand your concern for your investors, and it is noble of you to care as much as you do, it does not seem fair that you should shoulder the blame for something wholly out of your control, nor do more than any other merchant who oversees such a venture. Surely the others knew the risk when they made the investment. Besides, it seems rather premature to accept such a restrictive offer when you are not even certain your ship has wrecked. What if it comes into port soon and you’ve already signed your future away?
And to a man whose information you don’t seem convinced is trustworthy, no less. ”
Her words pierced through Nash’s indecision.
Though he’d not allowed the thought to fully take root, there was a small piece of him that worried Johnathan was using the news of the wrecked Indiaman for his own benefit.
To get Nash to agree to being a partner.
Not only that, but if the Dawn of India made port, Nash would have agreed to receiving only twenty percent on his portion—a quick turnaround of profits, to be sure.
But even if his ship had wrecked, if Nash bound himself to Johnathan, he would certainly sign his future away.
Along with his hopes. It was a price he could not pay no matter the cost. Resolved and relieved by the clearness of mind he suddenly felt, he smiled. “You have convinced me.”
Her gaze shot to him. “That was not my intention. I …”
He chuckled. “I know, but I should like somewhere to place the blame should I require it.”
Her lips parted, but her eyes gleamed with humor. “Why does that not surprise me? When must you give Mr. Steele your answer?”
“By five.”
“Today?”
Nash nodded. “In fact, I should probably be on my way.”
She tied off the last piece of linen and released his hand, yet she did not move. “Are you to return in time for the card party?”
“I would not miss it.”
She quirked a disbelieving brow.
“The only reason I did not join you at the park was because, having told my father of Johnathan’s offer, he advised I speak with Lord Blackstone to see if he had any information regarding my ship. It could not be delayed. But I regret not having been there.”
She placed her hands behind her back and tilted her face upward. “Good, for I had to speak to Lord Harlow on my own.”
Nash’s jaw clenched at the thought of the two of them together. He had said he would keep Cecily from that conversation, and he had not. Was that why she had been vexed at him earlier? The timing of it seemed odd, but he supposed it made more sense than anything else. “Did he offer for you? ”
“I did not give him a chance.”
Relief washed over Nash, and he gave a nod of understanding. “How did he take the news of our betrothal?”
Cecily took a small step back, but it felt significant. “As I imagined he would. But I do not doubt he will recover from his disappointment soon enough. We have only known one another a short time.”
Nash’s gaze moved across her handsome features, and rather shockingly, he experienced a tinge of sympathy for Featherbottom. Perhaps because he knew what it was like to have Cecily just out of reach. “I think you underestimate your hold on a man.”
Cecily laughed as if Nash had spoken in jest. “Do you know why I have had so many suitors calling on me?”
Nash could list a myriad of reasons, but he suspected it would not matter.
“Someone overheard you mention the amount of my dowry,” she said when Nash did not answer. “So, any hold I have on a man is seemingly a financial one.”
Nash stared at her. “I’m sorry … I did not mean?—”
“All’s well that ends well, and once we have ended our betrothal, I shall forever be done with the Marriage Mart.” Her smile appeared genuine. “We should probably get back to the others.”
She stepped to the side to pass by Nash, but he took hold of her hand, pausing her. “You never told me why you will not marry.”
She did not pull her hand from his grasp. “I suppose you have a theory on that also?”
Nash knew this was her way of skirting around his question, but how could he refuse the bait? “Perhaps.”
Cecily cocked a playful brow. “Well?”
He could not have stopped his teasing smile if he’d tried. “Could it possibly have something to do with a certain gentleman—one you once had very strong feelings for—living in a foreign land?”
She did not shy away from him as he expected, but instead, she leaned in closer, making Nash’s heart lift in glorious anticipation. “Vanity always was a weakness of yours,” she whispered.
Without another word, she withdrew her hand and sauntered out the door as if she were completely unaffected by him. Would nothing ever again go as he wanted?