Page 106 of A Match of Misfortune

“That must be Nash.” Mrs. Markham sent Cecily a questioning glance. “Shall we go speak to him?”

Cecily ran her fingers beneath her puffy eyes, dispersing what moisture remained from her tears. “You go ahead. I’ll be there in a moment.”

Mrs. Markham looked as though she wished to protest, but she stood, placed a kiss on the top of Cecily’s head, and made her way out the door.

There was no mirror in the library, so she quickly made her way to a glass-front cabinet near the window that would allow her to glimpse a reflection. After a quick sweep of her hair with her hands, re-pinning a few of the tear-dampened tendrils from where they had dislodged, she ran her hands over her cheeks several times. She could not see her reflection clearly in the glass, but she was sure her face was not only swollen from crying, but that it was also mottled and red.

The door opened, and Cecily stilled, knowing exactly who it was, though she did not turn to look.

“There you are.” His footsteps started across the floor. “What are you doing in here by yourself?”

“I just needed a moment,” she said, still not able to meet his gaze.

He paused. “Would you prefer to be left alone?”

She shook her head, certain the tremble in her voice might betray her.

With a more cautious pace, he made his way to where she stood. She could feel his gaze upon her, and after a touch too long, she met it.

Concern etched every line of his face, and he lifted a hand to her cheek. “You’ve been crying.”

Cecily could sense her emotions rising, and the last thing she wanted was to have another fit of tears in front of Nash. Her emotions still felt a bit raw and volatile. Though just seeing him was a balm to her wearied heart. “It is no matter.”

His eyes roved across her face with such intensity that it was difficult not to look away. “Am I the cause of your tears?”

Her eyes blurred, and her throat constricted, making speech nigh impossible if she meant to keep her emotions in hand. Ensuring she did not cry, she dropped her gaze.

“Forgive me,” he said. “With all that I’ve been attempting to accomplish this past week, I’ve been … a blasted pigeon.”

At the odd response, she risked a glance at him. Had she misheard what he’d said? “A pigeon?”

“You know, the male does a courtship dance and … well, he’s often so busy with his own presentation, he doesn’t realize the female has flown away. He’s just flitting about looking a fool instead of doing the one thing he sought to do, which was impress her, so …” His words trailed off when he appraised Cecily’s amused expression. “It made more sense when Lord Blackstone explained it.”

Cecily had not quite followed his odd line of thought, but regardless, his attempts lightened her spirits. “How were your travels? I assume it all went perfectly now that you have your luck back?”

Nash’s smile was cautious. “Oh, but I never lost my luck. Not truly.”

Cecily narrowed her eyes slightly. There was clearly more to what he was saying than the words he spoke, but with the bit of mischief in his eyes, she knew he wished to be questioned on the matter. And how could she not appease him? She had missed their teasing one another most intensely. “I don’t know. Even if you remove Mr. Steele’s interferences from the equation, you truly seemed a magnet for misfortune. Think of your fall at the Darlingtons’ ball.”

“It seems I was tripped.”

Cecily smiled, amazed at how much brighter the world felt with him near. “Even the second time, when you pulled Lady Darlington down on top of you?”

He shook his head. “No, that time I most certainly slipped on the punch.”

“There was also the axle breaking. The black cat and the rain. The menagerie being closed. Not to mention our game of chess.”

“See, but that is exactly what I’m trying to say. Each of those might appear to be bad luck to the untrained eye, but on closer inspection, they are not at all. Had the axle not broken, we never would have taken that delightful walk home together. The black cat may or may not have had something to do with the onslaught of rain we experienced, but I would not change that experience for anything. Particularly not the moments we spent beneath the portico. And, in hindsight, I much preferred our adventure to Vauxhall. Especially our time together on the Dark Walk.”

A flutter moved through her at his words.

“As for the game of chess,” he continued. “Well … let’s just say I would allow you to win every time if I received the same consolation prize.”

Cecily’s cheeks burned at the memory of their kiss. “So you mean to pretend that you allowed me to win?”

He chuckled. “A man must keep his pride where he can, and heaven knows I have very little I’ve been holding onto.”

“What of your hand?” Cecily asked, realizing Nash no longer wore a bandage. She reached out, unable to resist the overpowering urge. Warmth flooded through her at the feel of his skin against hers. He turned his hand over in hers, revealing the cut on his palm that was still visible but appeared to be healing well.