Page 48 of A Match of Misfortune (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #7)

The thought of a second kiss made Cecily’s insides shudder, but in a good way. In a way that made her wish to have another attempt without delay. “It is also important to note that it was you who kissed me. I believe I’m supposed to be the instigator.”

Nash gave a serious nod, as though they were discussing a most critical matter. “It is decided, then. We must try again. Perhaps more than once.”

Cecily laughed, and his gaze shifted to the note in her hand.

“Who is that from?” he asked.

“Oh.” Cecily placed it behind her back. “Bridget had to cancel for this evening. She and Lord Rothsburg send their apologies.”

He stepped to the side, his gaze lowering to where she held the note. “If that is the case, might I read it?”

Cecily shook her head, attempting a look of innocence. “I have already told you what it says.”

He appraised her. “You’re hiding something.”

Again, she shook her head.

“Very well. Keep your secrets.” But before Cecily could respond, Nash lunged at her hand that held the note.

She crumpled it in her hand, trying to keep hold of it, her laughter at the unexpected assault making her effort more difficult.

With his hand on her wrist, she spun so her back was to him, pulling her arm free.

He took hold of her waist with one arm, keeping her close, and she reached her hand forward, but even with him behind her, his arm was nearly as long as hers.

“You’re going to injure your hand again,” she said, unable to prevent a giggle from escaping as he attempted another reach at the letter.

Then she felt the fingers curled around her waist begin to wiggle.

Before she could warn him to stop, her body reacted to his tickling and she arched backward, her head coming into contact with something solid.

She gasped and spun toward him as he leaned forward, groaning. “I’m so sorry. I’m extremely ticklish.” She put a hand on his back and leaned down to see what damage she had done. He was cupping his face, and his eyes were watering. “Did I hit your nose?”

“One minute,” he moaned, remaining hunched over. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and she finally noticed the drops of blood on the floor at their feet.

Her stomach contracted and her vision darkened ever so slightly at the edges. “I made you bleed.”

“No, I made me bleed.” He wadded up the handkerchief and set it over his nose, standing upright.

Cecily’s gaze settled on the white linen, now splotched red. She drew in a deep, steadying breath.

He turned his back to Cecily. “Perhaps you should sit. You appear rather ashen.”

“I am more than fine,” Cecily said, though with one more look at Nash’s handkerchief, she resumed her seat at the table with the chessboard.

Another knock sounded, and Caldwell stepped through the door again. “There is a visitor for—” His gaze halted on Nash, but he maintained a proper expression this time. “Might I get you something for that, sir?”

“Thank you, but I’m on my way upstairs. Though I dripped some blood on the floor, so if you can get a servant to see to cleaning it…” Nash paused, tipping his head upward. “Who is the visitor?”

“Lord Harlow. He wishes for an audience with Miss Bradshaw.”

Nash hmphed. “Of course he does.”

Caldwell looked from Cecily to Nash and back again. “What should I tell him? ”

Though Cecily had little desire to speak with him at present, she owed him at least that much. “Give me a moment, then bring him into the drawing room. Adelaide and Sarah will make sufficient chaperones.”

With his chin still tilted toward the ceiling, Nash looked at Caldwell out of the corner of his eyes. “Also tell him if he dallies too long, I shall throw him out on his haunches. I’m the only man who should request an audience with Miss Bradshaw.”

Cecily touched Nash’s arm as she passed, but she did not look at him. She did not wish to glimpse his handkerchief. And she did not wish for him to glimpse how absolutely delighted she was by his bout of jealousy.

Adelaide and Sarah sat on the side of the drawing room opposite Cecily when Caldwell announced Lord Harlow.

“What a pleasant surprise.” Cecily stood from her place on the settee, noting how discomfited he appeared.

His gaze slid to Sarah, then Adelaide, his gaze pausing briefly on her invalid chair, before he looked back to Cecily.

“I hope you do not mind, but my sister is working on a filagree project, and I insisted she remain.”

“Of course, I did not mean to intrude upon your day.”

How peculiar he was acting. “Will you have a seat?”

“Yes, thank you.” Instead of taking the chair across from her, he moved onto the settee at her side. He puffed out a breath of air.

“Is something the matter, my lord?”

With one glance at Adelaide and Sarah, he leaned in closer.

“I’m not certain, but I believe so.” He sat erect on the edge of his seat as though he might rise again at any moment.

“I overheard Lord Chatting, one of Mr. Markham’s investors, talking with a group of men at White’s today.

After the vote of membership, he said he only proposed Mr. Markham’s name because he was unduly pressured to do so.

He then spoke very poorly of Mr. Markham.

Not only about his misfortunes, but also about his character—his lack of honesty in his business dealings, that he is only out to make a quick profit and cares little for his investors, and that he bullies others.

He went so far as to claim Mr. Markham had some run in with Lord Walton at Vauxhall and threatened him for no reason. ”

Cecily stared at Lord Harlow. “That is not true. Not any of it.”

“I know. In part, that is why I am here.” Lord Harlow put his hand on Cecily’s. It wasn’t a romantic gesture, but one of friendship. “He also mentioned another man a … Mr. Steele?”

“Yes, Mr. Johnathan Steele. He is a friend of Mr. Markham’s from India. His family owns one of the largest shipping companies within the East India Trading Company.”

“Well apparently, he has offered to buy out Lord Chatting’s share in Mr. Markham’s investment.

” He let out a quick breath, his gaze skirting to Adelaide again, as if to make certain she was not hearing what it was they were speaking of.

“And not only that, but Lord Chatting boasted that he had convinced another investor to sell Mr. Steele his shares as well. Perhaps it was at Mr. Steele’s request? ”

“Why would Mr. Steele do that?”

“I can only think that he wishes to undermine Mr. Markham. Secure his investors for himself?”

“Perhaps.” Cecily did not know the man, but Nash had called him a friend. Had he been mistaken in their friendship? Did Mr. Steele truly wish to undermine him? “Lord Harlow, I cannot thank you enough for coming here today.”

“I admit Mr. Markham and I have never had much tolerance for one another, but I would never wish ill on him. Especially now that his future affects yours. I only hope I have come in time so that the information I have shared is useful. ”

“That is my hope as well.” Cecily pressed out a grateful smile, though her churning thoughts were making her head spin.

“I shall tell Mr. Markham of what you have reported straightaway, but we shall be sure not to tell anyone outside of those we trust where we heard of it. I should not wish you to have any negative consequences because of your kindness.”

“Thank you.” Lord Harlow stood as Cecily did, and he followed her to the door.

She paused just before the threshold. “Miss Bradshaw, I also want to apologize for my reaction to your news the other night at the park. It admittedly disappointed me, but I hope you know I truly wish the best for you. You are an exceptional lady, and Mr. Markham is lucky to have won your affection.”

Cecily expected the typical wave of guilt she experienced each time someone mentioned their betrothal, but all she felt was gratitude for Lord Harlow’s sentiment.

Perhaps even a touch of excitement at the thought that Nash truly had won her affection.

Which was a troublesome development, to be sure.

“I appreciate your understanding, and for what it is worth, I do not doubt you will find a most admirable match. Possibly with Lady Victoria?”

“I am to take her to the theater on Friday.”

“I hope you enjoy yourselves.”

He gave a wry smile, then lifted Cecily’s knuckles to his lips, placing a soft kiss upon them. “Farewell, Miss Bradshaw.”

“Farewell, Lord Harlow.”

He stepped past her, halting just outside the door, his gaze set forward.

Cecily peeked around the door to find Nash standing at the bottom of the steps, red-nosed and glowering.

Lord Harlow gave a small nod of acknowledgment, which Nash returned with a stiff nod of his own, then Lord Harlow made his way to the entry hall without a word.

“What did he want?” Nash asked once Caldwell had seen him out .

There was no time to tease him about his overly dramatic reaction. “We need to speak.” She gestured toward the library, and with one hesitant look, he followed her inside. Cecily closed the door, then relayed all that Lord Harlow had said.

Nash’s gaze was distant as he considered the news. “Are you certain Featherbottom spoke in earnest?”

“I trust him.”

Nash released a slow exhale, clearly not pleased with her admission. “In that case, it seems I must pay Johnathan a visit. See if I can glean any insight as to his reason for doing this.”

Cecily nodded. “I shall inform your mother as soon as she comes home.”

He dipped his chin and started toward the door.

“Wait!” Cecily called, pausing his retreat.

She took a few cautious steps in his direction, her chest buzzing with nerves.

“My luck is yours to have, all of it,” she said, lifting onto her toes and placing a soft kiss upon his cheek.

When she lowered down again, Nash smiled at her.

“I’m not sure if it will help, but I suppose it is a better tactic than simply wishing you luck. ”

He lifted a hand to her face, his thumb grazing her cheek. “Thank you. I feel as though my luck is already shifting.”

When he stepped through the library door, Cecily found that, for the first time since meeting Nash, she truly hoped that fortune would favor him.