Page 56 of A Match of Misfortune (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #7)

Cecily smiled. “I wholeheartedly agree. Papa will be here next week, so—” Nash’s smile widened, and the familiar glint in his eye paused Cecily’s words. “What is it?”

“Come with me.” Nash took hold of Cecily’s hand and all but dragged her in his excitement.

The two of them stepped through the drawing room door, and Cecily’s gaze shifted through the familiar faces—Mr. and Mrs. Markham, Lord Rothsburg, Bridget, Fredrick, Adelaide, and Papa. She halted. Papa?

“What are you doing here, Papa?” Her smile was now as bright as Nash’s. “We did not expect you yet.”

Papa held out his arms, and Cecily hastened into them.

“On his way home from Dover, young Mr. Markham showed up at Penrose Court. After asking me for your hand, he urged me to join him on his return to London. He wanted discussions of the marriage contract to begin posthaste, and since he was not inclined to bide one more day out of your presence, I had no other choice but to acquiesce.”

Nash chuckled. “I hardly had to say a word, and he was already having the servants ready his trunks.”

Papa pulled back slightly, looking at Cecily. “I may have been missing both you and Adelaide a little more than I’ve let on in my letters.”

“Oh, Papa. I’m so glad you are here.”

He patted her cheek, admiration brimming in his expression. “As am I. And I must say, I am most content with how things have turned out. You have at last made a match—and a most fortunate one at that.”

Cecily returned to stand next to Nash, sending him a knowing look.

“Not only that,” Adelaide said, her green eyes alight. “But it is a love match, exactly as you always wished for her, Papa.”

Adelaide’s utter joy for Cecily radiated from her, and Cecily was determined she would one day know what it was to be so loved and cherished. “Might I be included in the discussion regarding the marriage contract?” she asked, glancing between Nash and Papa.

Papa hesitated only slightly. “I don’t see why not. If Mr. Markham is not opposed?”

“Not in the least.”

“Good,” Cecily said, her thoughts churning. “I have an idea I wish to propose.”

Nash’s gaze flicked to Adelaide, as if he knew exactly what Cecily was considering. Then he nodded. “I’m certain we can make it work.”

“So,” Bridget said, looking as though she might burst with excitement. “There is to be a wedding?”

“There is.” Cecily’s smile was as giddy as a smitten young lady. “We shall need all of your help, as we’d like it to take place as soon as possible.”

Bridget and Adelaide squealed in delight, and Mrs. Markham clapped her hands together while the gentlemen all shared enthusiastic nods of congratulations.

“Since you’re here, Sir Vincent,” Nash said, “I should like to give you your gift. ”

“My gift?” Papa said, his brow wrinkled.

“I brought a few little trinkets from India for each person in my family, as well as you and your daughters. I’ve presented all of them but yours and Cecily’s.” Nash directed a pointed look at her. “So, if you will allow me one moment, I’ll collect them and be back momentarily.”

“Of course.”

In Nash’s absence, more congratulations were offered. Even Sarah removed from her regular seat near the room’s entrance for a brief offering of felicitations.

Fredrick and Adelaide whispered to one another, her sister’s cheeks pink with excitement, and Papa sent Cecily a quizzical look.

Cecily only smiled and gave a small shrug.

Not long after Bridget began a discussion about the upcoming wedding, Nash walked back inside, a wooden box in his hands, with Jamison right behind him.

Nurse carried in Theo who, on seeing his mother, wiggled from her arms and toddled to Mrs. Markham.

Nash mussed his brother’s hair. “I promised Jamison he could be there when I gave Cecily her gifts.”

“Theo wanted to come too,” Jamison said matter-of-factly.

“We’ll begin with Sir Vincent’s.” Nash set down the box and removed a wooden pipe with similar iridescent accents as Jamison’s sword, handing it to Jamison, who handed it to Papa.

“Look at that,” Papa said, turning it over in his hands. Papa loved smoking his pipe in the evening, and Cecily could not help but think what a thoughtful gift it was for him. “It’s exquisite. Is the inlay mother-of-pearl?”

Jamison nodded. “Just like my sword.”

Papa gave an impressed lift of his eyebrows.

“I’m uncertain if the pipe actually works,” Nash said. “But if not, it will make a lovely decorative piece.”

Papa laughed. “Well, thank you for this. I look forward to giving it a try. ”

Nash’s gaze shifted to Cecily. “Now for you. Unless you are intent on putting me off yet again?”

Cecily glanced around at the eager expressions watching her, wishing she had let Nash give her the gifts when he’d first mentioned it. When their only audience had been Adelaide and Jamison. “I suppose I can’t put you off forever.”

Nash smiled at her half-hearted permission and returned to his box, handing Jamison something to give to her.

When Jamison neared, she realized it was a cashmere shawl, much like the one he’d gifted to Adelaide, though this one was cream with golden embroidery.

She took the proffered gift, holding it against her for all to see. “It is beautiful.”

“Wait until you see this.” Nash approached her this time, holding a most exquisite length of fabric, neatly folded.

It was a muted greenish blue, like a stormy sea.

The same color as the ribbon he suggested she buy.

The same color as the dress she had worn all those years ago, though this fabric was far superior.

She rubbed the top layer between her fingers.

“I’ve never felt anything like it. It’s so soft. ”

“It is Dhaka muslin. They say it is like wearing a whisper.”

A slight shiver of pleasure moved through Cecily at the thought of it against her skin.

Of the imagined sensation of Nash’s touch through the fabric when she wore it.

The way his hand would settle on the small of her back, or the accidental graze of his fingers against her.

Her cheeks suddenly blazed red. This was not the time for such thoughts.

“I cannot wait to have it made into a gown,” she said, sounding oddly breathless.

“Here’s this one,” Jamison said, handing her a box, apparently too impatient to wait for Nash.

Nash looked slightly surprised, then he chuckled. “I guess you’re to get this one now as well.”

She glanced at Nash. “Should I wait?”

“No, now seems as good a time as any.”

Cecily unlatched it and opened the top, releasing a small gasp when she saw the necklace. Her fingers trailed over the strand of pearls set in an intricate gold setting. Her gaze lifted to his.

He appeared a touch nervous. “I wasn’t sure if you ever replaced the string of pearls you lost at Cavendish Square during our footrace, but I saw these, and I could not resist buying them.

Granted, I didn’t think I’d ever have the chance to give them to you, but I had a hope, as distant as it felt, that I would one day. ”

Cecily could not convince her slackened jaw to close. Even with all those years away and parting as they had, he had not forgotten her. As she had not forgotten him. “It is absolutely perfect. Thank you.”

“I spoke in earnest when I said I’ve loved you a very long time.

” Taking hold of the necklace, he draped it around her neck and clasped it into place, his fingers brushing her skin in a way that made her legs grow weak beneath her.

“And I hope you know I entirely place the blame on you for that. From the moment I set eyes on you, I hadn’t a choice in the matter. ”

“I truly am the luckiest of women.”

Nash’s smile was full of mischief. “Perhaps you’d like to share a little of that luck with me?”

She knew precisely what he meant, and despite everyone watching, she lifted onto her toes and kissed him—utterly and completely overwhelmed with love for the man standing beside her, with inexpressible gratitude for those smiling upon them, and for fortune’s hand in it all.