Page 51 of A Match of Misfortune (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #7)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

C ecily lay in bed, thinking about all that had happened between her and Nash the last few days.

About her shifting feelings toward him. Despite reason and practicality, all she wanted was to spend more time with him.

To share another kiss. To take advantage of the few weeks they still had together before she must return to Penrose Court.

It was irrational, and yet it was the only thing that made sense to her.

A light rapping had her quieting her thoughts. Had she imagined it? With a second round of taps, she tossed the covers from her and cautiously walked toward the window where the sound originated. Drawing back the curtain slightly, she gasped when she saw a face staring back at her in the darkness.

“Nash!” She placed a hand over her chest, attempting to keep her pounding heart in place, then quickly unlocked the window and lifted it upward. The cold night air rushed into the room, swirling around her bare arms and ankles. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

“Apparently, my parents had the window locks in the dining room changed. ”

“Could you not knock on the servants’ door?”

“I suppose I could have, but painstakingly climbing the portico in the dark of night with an injured hand and nearly falling off twice on my way to your window seemed the more logical solution.”

Cecily smiled, unable to hide her delight.

He gave an overdone shiver. “You are going to let me in, aren’t you?”

“What will you tell your mother in the morning as to how you got inside?”

“Hmmm … I see the dilemma, but as I’m not certain I can get down, I fear we must accept the consequences of our actions.”

“ Your actions.”

Nash smiled. “We can debate that once I’m standing on more solid ground.”

Cecily’s insides were a jumbled ball of nerves as she stepped back, allowing Nash to clamber haphazardly through the small open window. “Shhhh. You are so loud,” Cecily whispered, closing it behind him.

“That window is far smaller than I remember it being. I’m lucky I fit through at all. Particularly when I can hardly feel my fingers.”

Cecily reached out and grasped his icy hands, as if she needed proof and did not simply wish to touch him. “Oh heavens, you are freezing. Here.” She led him toward the fireplace, taking cautious steps in the darkness. “It hasn’t been long since the fire was banked. It should still be warm.”

“I would prefer to warm myself another way.”

Cecily whipped back toward him. “Nash!”

“What? I typically just rub my hands together, like this.” He made a grand show of the gesture. “Unless you can offer another suggestion?”

There was not enough moonlight seeping in through the window to illuminate the mischief that was certainly dancing in his eyes, but she could hear the laughter brimming in his voice.

“How did your meeting go with Mr. Steele?” she asked, desperate for a change of subject.

She knew she should not be with Nash in a dark room alone, but if she kept their conversation focused, she could justify a few more minutes with him.

Nash’s exhale was heavy, and he crouched down, placing his hands above the banked fire. “It was … enlightening.” He paused briefly. “He is determined to sabotage my efforts to start a shipping company.”

“For what reason?”

“The East India Trading Company, along with their granted monopoly on tea, opium, and trade with China, still holds an unofficial monopoly on shipping. Johnathan, along with the other shipping owners, clearly wish to maintain that hold. And it seems they will stop at nothing to see that they do.” Nash glanced up at her, though she could not make out his expression.

“Not only has he convinced Lord Chatting to sell him his shares, but he has convinced him to withdraw his funds from my father’s bank.

My father verified others have also been closing their accounts. ”

Cecily’s chest grew tight, her breaths harder to draw. Mr. Markham’s bank was already struggling with all the delayed loan repayments. They could not take any more losses. “What is there to be done?”

“I’ve already done it.” He blew out a breath, and Cecily knew the news would not be to her liking. “To prevent my other investors from doing the same, I offered to front the whole of their original investments. Plus an additional ten percent to compensate for lost profits.”

The air in Cecily’s lungs seemed to grow heavy. “Do you have the funds for it?”

“Lord Blackstone is to loan the money to me.” He stood and faced her. “I fear it may delay my plans to return to England even longer, for I now must also ensure Lord Blackstone is repaid.”

“How long do you think you will be gone?”

“I cannot say. There are so many variables at present. But hopefully, three or four years at most.”

Her legs threatened to give way beneath her. “Three or four years?”

“The voyage there and back again alone will take nearly a year. I?—”

“What of my dowry? Would it be enough to cover the sum?” The words slipped out before she even realized what it was she was suggesting, and the ensuing silence left her regretting her hastily offered comment.

Their kiss had likely not meant the same thing to Nash as it had to her, and heat at her foolishness enveloped her.

Besides, even if they married, it wasn’t as though he could remain in England.

He would return to India, regardless. She opened her mouth to counter her words, but what excuse could she give?

“If I were to have access to your dowry, that would mean …” His words trailed off. “I thought you did not wish to marry.”

If her heart would stop pounding so intensely, perhaps she could think how to right her mistake. “I didn’t. I mean … I don’t. I just thought the offer might prove useful.”

“Useful?” he repeated, as though weighing the significance of the word. Or at least the significance she put behind it.

She took a backward step. “Forget I said anything. It was a silly idea. You clearly already figured out another option, and …”

“Cecily.”

The warmth of Nash’s voice paused her.

“I would never ask that of you. Nor would I accept it.” His hands settled on her arms, the chill of his touch sending a shiver through her, but regardless of all the turmoil inside her, she took a step toward him.

“If we were married, your dowry would not be safe from creditors. I will not put you or your sister at risk. But that does not mean I am not grateful. I am honored you would trust me enough to make such an offer. Even if it was a sacrificial one.”

The teasing tone that entered his voice at the end sent her gaze upward.

His fingers trailed down her arms to her hands, sending a ripple of pleasure through her.

He took her hands in his. “I admit a part of me hoped you had offered such a thing not simply to be useful but because, even with my atrocious luck and current lack of fortune, you had finally admitted to yourself that you are madly in love with me.”

Only Nash would attempt flirtation to lighten a moment like this, and despite Cecily not wanting to be pacified—of wanting to languish longer in the realization that their separation was imminent and she was uncertain if there was any sort of future for them—she could not deny him.

After all, right before his arrival, had she not been longing to make the most of their last few weeks together? “Only a part of you?”

Even in the semidarkness, she could see Nash’s smile. “Perhaps I misled you with my previous statement. It would have been more accurate had I said that every particle within me hoped it to be true.”

Cecily stared into his shadowed face, attempting to decipher whether he spoke in earnest. He had clearly been teasing her just before, but Nash would not say such a thing unless he meant it. Would he?

And if so, did she love him?

Her heart raced recklessly with abandon, confirming her answer, though she could not find the words to say as much.

Instead, she lifted her hand to his face, tracing her thumb across his lips.

His breath hitched, and she slipped her hand behind his neck, pulling him toward her.

The warmth of his lips caressed hers for but a moment before his hand came to her wrist, pausing her.

He rested his forehead against hers. The sound of their breaths mingling was the only sound that filled the silence.

“It is dark and late, and I should not even be here,” he whispered. “Let alone allowing myself to kiss you.”

Cecily’s embarrassment seeped all the way to her core. “Of course. Forgive me. I?—”

“This is not your doing.” He cupped her cheek in his hand. “It is I who must ask your forgiveness. I would never wish to hurt you. In any way.”

Was he still talking about the impropriety of their current situation, or did he imply that if they continued as they were, he would regret his treatment of her?

That his flirtation and kisses truly did not mean what she assumed they did?

Love had morphed her into exactly what she had feared—a woman who surrendered control over her feelings despite all reason.

Nash was leaving. He would be half a world away from her for years.

Surely, he would not wish to be tied to her in his absence. Nash had always longed for freedom.

“Goodnight, then,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

She wasn’t mad at him. She couldn’t be. None of this was his fault.

She had been the one to propose the temporary betrothal.

But things were becoming so confusing, and brewing beneath it all was the knowledge that Nash was leaving.

Tears pricked at her eyes, but she blinked them away.

She was acting the part of a foolish schoolgirl. “I shall see you in the morning.”

“Cecily, if I?—”

“No, you are right.” She placed a reassuring hand on his arm briefly. “It is late. We should both get to bed.”

He stood there, but he did not speak. Then, with a sigh of resignation, he took a step away. “Goodnight,” he said, taking hold of her hand and placing a soft, lingering kiss upon it.

The tenderness of it was nearly Cecily’s undoing.