Page 5 of A Match of Misfortune (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #7)

Cecily ran a brush through Adelaide’s waist-long, blonde hair.

Between her focused efforts and the heat of the fire, her sister’s hair was nearly dry, a fact Adelaide realized when she slid her fingers through the thick strands.

“It should be dry enough for Sarah to plait,” she said. “Thank you for brushing it.”

“Of course.” Cecily hesitated, but with Sarah hovering nearby, she reluctantly gave up the small stool she’d been sitting on and glanced around for something else to do.

Since coming upstairs, Cecily had avoided going into Nash’s room by busying herself with tasks, even helping Sarah unpack Adelaide’s trunks while her sister had soaked in the tub.

“Is something the matter?” Adelaide watched Cecily with a bemused expression. “You seem ill at ease.”

“Do I?” She gave a small lift of her shoulders. “I can’t think of a reason I should be.”

Adelaide’s discerning smile only added to Cecily’s trepidation. “Nor I. Perhaps you are overly tired and should retire to your own room.”

Cecily’s stomach twisted before she rebuked herself for the senseless reaction.

It was only a room, after all. Several others, including Papa, had occupied the space since Nash last did.

And that’s exactly how Cecily would view it—as a guest room of sorts.

A guest room that unfortunately had once belonged to the most aggravating man in all of England.

But no longer did. For even when he returned, Mrs. Markham had said he would live elsewhere.

“Yes. Perhaps you are right. That is, if you do not require me for anything else?”

Regrettably, Adelaide shook her head. “Sarah can see to anything I need.”

“Sleep well, then.” Cecily placed a kiss on her sister’s cheek and glanced at the maid. “Thank you, Sarah. And if you should need me?—”

“You are in the room next door,” Sarah said, repeating Cecily’s reminder back to her .

It took a great deal of effort for Cecily to convince her feet to move.

So much so that she paused again on the threshold and looked back at Sarah.

“Be certain Adelaide is well covered tonight.” She paused.

If there was anyone as concerned about Adelaide’s well-being as Cecily, it was her maid.

“But of course you know that, so”—she gestured to the corridor behind her—“I shall be on my way.”

Adelaide’s eyes shone with amusement in the firelight. “Goodnight, Cecily.”

Cecily closed the door behind her, pulling in a long inhale before stepping to the neighboring door.

She rested her hand on Nash’s doorknob. “It is only a room,” she whispered.

To prove the point to herself, she stepped inside, pushing aside the image her mind conjured of its former occupant, and glanced around the fire-lit space objectively.

It was similar in size to her own room at Penrose Court and decorated in rich tones of burgundy, brown, and gold.

Dark wooden furniture—a dressing table, two bedside tables, a bureau, and an armoire—all looked to be carved from the same tree as the large four-poster bed in the center.

Nash’s bed.

A noise behind her made her jump, and she spun around with a hand clasped over her heart.

“Forgive me.” Mrs. Markham stepped into the room with a stack of extra blankets. “I did not mean to startle you.”

“No, it is …” She did not know how to explain her skittish reaction, so she didn’t. “Are those for me?”

Mrs. Markham nodded, handing her the blankets.

“Once the fire is banked, it can get a touch cold in here.” She glanced behind Cecily at the windows that were shrouded in drapery.

“The curtains keep in the warmth, so until the nights grow warmer, make certain they are securely in place before you go to bed. You can also draw the curtains closed on the bed if you so choose, and I can always have one of the maids warm your bed with a warming pan.”

“I truly think these will be sufficient.” Cecily hugged the stack of blankets to her chest. “But I shall let you know if it proves otherwise.”

Mrs. Markham’s gaze settled on Cecily’s unpacked trunks pressed against the far wall. “Were you not to bring your lady’s maid?”

Cecily’s pulse increased at the mere mention of what had occurred. “I dismissed her a few days before our departure. She was speaking with some other servants when I heard her disparage Adelaide.”

Perhaps Cecily had acted too harshly in handling the situation—sending the woman away without so much as a reference when she’d overheard her—but she could not find that she regretted it.

Penrose Court was Adelaide’s home. Her haven.

The one place where she should be free of being ridiculed, so to hear her condition openly mocked had been more than Cecily could abide.

Thankfully, it had not been Adelaide who had heard such unfeeling words, nor had the other servants seemed at all willing to tolerate such toward a member of the family.

Mrs. Markham gave a shake of her head. “I am sorry. And you are, of course, welcome to hire another, but my lady’s maid has just informed me that, as you did not come with a maid, she would gladly assist you during your stay.

Mrs. Batton’s knowledge of fashion is too often wasted on a matron such as myself. ”

Cecily smiled at the kindness. “If she truly does not mind, that would be very much appreciated.”

Mrs. Markham’s gaze settled on Cecily’s gown. “Would you like her to come help you ready for bed?”

“I can manage myself tonight.”

“Very well.” Mrs. Markham hesitated, and Cecily knew exactly what she was going to say.

She had been expecting the conversation since their arrival.

“I know you are not eager for this Season, and I understand your reason for it. But perhaps there is a way to achieve your goal of securing Adelaide’s future while also seeing to your own.

There are many good men. I do not doubt you could find a husband that would see to Adelaide’s needs as attentively as he would see to yours. ”

“Do you recall Mrs. Leetle?”

Mrs. Markham sighed, as though she well knew precisely why Cecily would mention her. “I do.”

“Then you likely also recall that her sister had a child who was an invalid. When her husband unexpectedly died, the guardianship went to her husband’s brother. He sent that little boy to an invalid house and she could do nothing. The child did not live a year.”

“Not all stories end that way.”

“But some do. Whoever I marry will become Adelaide’s guardian when my father dies.

Even if a suitor claimed he would allow her to live with us, he could change his mind at any point after we marry.

Adelaide and I could not bear a life apart from one another.

And if my husband were to die prematurely as happened to Mrs. Leetle’s sister, he could appoint a new guardian in his will, and I would have no say in it.

Nor for her care. If, heaven forbid, Papa were to die, it would be better that I be unmarried and Mr. Markham could remain as our guardian.

At least until Adelaide gains her majority. ”

“But your father could put those stipulations in the marriage settlement so they could not be altered.” She said the words cautiously, as though she herself wanted to believe but didn’t fully.

“A marriage settlement is a protection that is difficult to enforce. Besides, what sort of gentleman would marry me with so many stipulations and restrictions on my dowry? My father would have to make compromises in the negotiation, and I fear those compromises would not be beneficial to Adelaide. ”

Mrs. Markham gave a heavy nod. “As I said, I understand your reasons. I simply …” She exhaled. “I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

“I know you are. It’s only that marriage and motherhood have brought a measure of fulfillment to my life that I did not even realize I was missing. Some things are worth the risk.”

This was not one of those things. Not for Cecily. And certainly not for Adelaide. But hating to disappoint Mrs. Markham, Cecily gave a small smile. “I shall consider your counsel.”

“That is all I ask. I shall not say another word about it.” Mrs. Markham raised a hand to Cecily’s cheek. “And regardless of how this Season turns out, I am so pleased you are here.”

“As am I.”

With one last smile, Mrs. Markham took a step toward the door but then stopped again.

“Oh, I must warn you. Jamison has formed a rather poor habit of climbing into bed with me or his father if he wakes in the middle of the night. As he knows you have arrived, I worry he might attempt the same with you. You may wish to lock your door.”

“I appreciate the warning.”

When Mrs. Markham bid her a goodnight, Cecily contemplated locking the door, but the thought of a disheartened Jamison was too much. Besides, it was disconcerting enough to be in Nash’s room; she had no desire to lock herself inside.

Cecily made quick work of readying herself for sleep, then retrieved the extra blankets and neared the bed with hesitant steps.

It was only a bed, like any other.

She pulled back the coverlet, then paused.

It would make sense that Nash had likely taken the spot closest to the door, so to ease her mind some, she would take the opposite.

She made her way to the other side. Satisfied with her decision, she spread out the extra blankets, snuffed out her candle, and slid beneath the covers.

Perhaps it was the day of travel wearing on her, but the bed was surprisingly comfortable.

Now, if she could only keep her thoughts from drifting to Nash.

The last thing she needed was to invite dreams of the tiresome man. And yet, in the darkness, lying near where he had once lain, she had a very difficult time keeping memories of the vexing man at bay.

This was going to prove a very long night.