Page 8 of A Match of Misfortune (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #7)

Chapter Four

C ecily made her way downstairs with slow, reluctant steps.

She did not desire to see Nash again, particularly after their interaction the previous night.

Though she was curious about how he’d made it back to England so swiftly.

Mrs. Markham had said they didn’t expect him until June, and here it was, not yet May.

And her first night here, at that. She could only guess it had something to do with his cursed good luck. Or her wretched luck.

Upon waking that morning, she’d convinced herself that Nash’s return was but a strange dream—no, not a dream, a nightmare.

That was until she’d heard a knock upon her locked door.

By the time she’d let Mrs. Markham inside, she well knew the cause of her former governess’s joyous state.

That Nash really had returned. That he had come to her room in the night.

That he’d been in the same bed as Cecily.

Her cheeks flushed at the mere memory of it.

Not because she harbored any feelings for him, for she certainly did not, but because of the impropriety of it all.

Which is exactly why, even after Mrs. Markham had mentioned Nash’s current visit would be brief, Cecily had not readied with any sort of haste.

She was in no hurry to speak with Nash again, and the longer she took to dress, the less time their interaction need be.

And yet now, as she neared the drawing room, she regretted not having taken longer.

Surely she could have found another task or two to delay her.

After all, there was no time like the present to organize oneself, and her …

ribbons had fallen into quite an unruly state from their travels.

She stilled on the bottom step, the incessant nerves in her stomach pressing her to return upstairs for a few more minutes, when Jamison’s laughter floated out of the drawing room.

Unable to resist, she drew a few steps closer, catching sight of Nash sitting on the floor, his back to Cecily and partially concealed behind a wingback chair.

Jamison happily bounced on his knees across from him, an array of toy soldiers between them.

Her heart dropped at the scene. She had not even had the chance to see the Markham boys yet, and now Nash would claim their affections.

It was foolhardy jealousy and she well knew it.

Jamison and Theo were Nash’s brothers. Though she did hope they would not come to prefer him entirely over her.

“That’s twice you have defeated me in less than an hour,” Nash said, stealing her attention. “Are you to be a soldier?”

“No. I want to be a merchant like you and live in India.”

Nash tousled Jamison’s similarly colored light brown hair. “Well, I’d far prefer that.”

Still standing out of sight of the others, Cecily struggled to draw a breath with how her heart was racing, and she cursed her weakness.

Had she not spent the last six years convincing herself that Nash Markham held no sway over her?

And he didn’t. So why was she cowering outside?

It would not do. Lifting her chin and drawing in a slow, steadying breath, she stepped across the threshold.

“Auntie Cecily!” Jamison caught sight of her first and bounded to his feet .

She scooped him up, relishing his tight embrace around her neck. “Look how big you have grown since I last saw you.”

He held up his hand, all of his fingers and his thumb extended. “I’m five now.”

“Clearly. In a year, I doubt I should even be able to lift you.” After another squeeze, Cecily set him down, keeping her attention on him despite knowing she should acknowledge Nash.

Jamison gave a proud smile. “Nash is here! Come see, come see!”

Accepting that the inevitable greeting had arrived, she took hold of Jamison’s outstretched hand and allowed him to pull her further into the drawing room where Nash had risen to his feet with Theo in arm.

At her approach, her gaze locked with Nash’s.

Her chest constricted even tighter. Last night she’d assumed him to be entirely unchanged, but seeing him now, she realized that was not at all the case, at least not physically.

He was taller than she remembered. More filled out and masculine.

An ox of a man, really, even compared to Mr. Markham, who stood nearby.

She supposed it made sense considering he’d eventually had to grow into those giant hands and feet of his.

His thick, brown hair was the same, as was the mischievous glint in those light eyes, but his boyish features were more angled and prominent and—dare she admit?

—striking. That was all Nash needed, to be more attractive than he’d already been.

Was there no balance in this universe when it came to him?

“Look, Nash.” Jamison pulled her until she stood directly in front of Nash. She fought the desire to retreat a step or two so he did not tower over her, but she held her ground. “It’s Auntie Cecily.”

Nash’s lips turned upward at the corners. “So it is.”

Desperate for an excuse to break eye contact, she dipped into a brief curtsy, still holding Jamison’s hand in hers.

“Mr. Markham,” she said, feeling it important to establish that their family’s close relationship did not permit a familiarity between them now that they were older.

Nor did her slip of using his Christian name the previous night.

Nash’s smile only broadened when her gaze lifted, like he could see into her discomfiting thoughts regarding him. “You cannot know how shocked I was when I discovered you were in London, Miss Bradshaw .”

Cecily’s cheeks threatened a blush at the obvious insinuation behind his comment, but she would not have it. Not with the others standing by, watching the two of them with casual interest. “Indeed, I believe I can. You see, I was equally shocked at the discovery of your return. Perhaps more so.”

His gaze trailed over Cecily’s face at a slow, intentional pace.

“Well, I must admit that I am quite pleased by your being here. I’ve not seen such a pretty face in months.

” His focus shifted to where Mrs. Markham sat beside Adelaide near the fire.

“And now I have the privilege of being among three of the prettiest in all of England.”

Cecily barely kept her eyes from flicking upward toward the ceiling.

Yes, Adelaide could certainly be touted as pretty even at her young age, and Cecily would not deny that both she and Mrs. Markham were quite handsome.

However, such exaggerated praise was meant as pure flattery and nothing more.

Nash’s compliments often proved as grandiose as his tales.

Yet both Mrs. Markham and Adelaide flushed at his compliment.

Mr. Markham chuckled. “Ever the charmer.”

“I could hardly believe how grown your sister was when I first saw her.” Nash gave a disbelieving shake of his head, his gaze fixed on Adelaide. “Nearly fifteen?”

Adelaide gave a small nod. “In a few months, I shall be.”

“That means two or three years and you will be out in Society. ”

Cecily winced at Nash’s assumption. Besides their visits to the Markhams, her sister seldom left the confines of Penrose Court, and when she did, it was only brief visits to places that were willing and able to accommodate her—to the house of a beloved neighbor or to church.

Not that Cecily or her father were ashamed of Adelaide.

Nothing could be farther from the truth.

It was in part that her chair could not go many places with ease, and in part that outside of the few families who knew her well, others seemed to lack understanding and compassion for anyone that differed from themselves.

While at home, Adelaide was unjudged and unhindered, but the moment she went out in public, people stared and whispered.

Adelaide always handled the inevitable situations that arose because of her disability with grace and a maturity well above her age, but that did not make it any easier to be gawked at or pitied by others.

So the idea of her entering Society was not only unreasonable but hurtful.

How could Adelaide possibly take part in a world that would spurn her for an ailment that she’d had since birth?

Adelaide gave a small frown that made Cecily wish she could give Nash a scolding right here in front of everyone. “If only that were a possibility,” Adelaide said.

“Why should it not be?”

Cecily’s jaw slackened at Nash’s carelessness. To make the mistake once was pardonable; to be so cork-brained a second time was not.

Adelaide gave a small laugh that hid her discomfort. “Because the point of coming out in Society is to marry, and who would marry a lady confined to a chair?”

Nash’s head reared back slightly, like he’d not realized that would be the case. “You cannot be in earnest?”

Unable to take another moment of Nash’s ignorance, Cecily set her sights on him. “I?—”

“She really cannot walk,” Jamison said, releasing Cecily’s hand and making his way toward her sister.

“Her legs don’t work like ours do. She was born like this.

” When he arrived next to her, he rested a hand tenderly on Adelaide’s arm.

Even a five-year-old knew how to better handle the situation than Nash did.

“Is that so?” Nash asked, feigning ignorance.

Jamison nodded. “That’s why she’s always in this chair.”

“Interesting.” Nash readjusted Theo in his arms, and the toddler rested his head upon Nash’s shoulder, contentedly sucking his thumb as though Nash were as familiar to him as his father.

“And here I thought people pushed her around all day because she is so important. But I suppose it is likely for both reasons.”

Adelaide ducked her chin to hide her smile. Unsurprisingly, a real, genuine smile. It always amazed Cecily how easily a word of praise from Nash could undo any wrong he’d managed to impart.

“I suppose so,” Jamison said decidedly. “She is important.”