Page 11 of A Match of Misfortune

Cecily pulled in a slow, audible breath. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he felt the air shift, as though she’d leaned toward him. “I want to lock the door after you leave. Prevent any other unwanted nighttime visits.”

Without warning, his amusement surfaced at the unexpected response, and a low, rumbling laugh escaped him.

“Quiet,” Cecily snapped, slapping a clumsy hand over his mouth. “We shall be discovered.”

Nash stifled his laugh, partly because it would be most unfortunate for him to travel all the way from India only to have Cecily murder him now, partly because he had no desire to alert his parents to his being home just yet, and partly because Cecily’s hand against his lips was far too unnerving. He’d clearly been at sea for too long with no females as company besides three matrons over twice his age. But again, this was Cecily, and she’d always had that effect on him, despite how illogical it was. Needing to get ahold of himself, he peeled Cecily’s hand from his mouth, attempting to ignore the buzzing sensation that flooded through his fingers at the contact with her soft, warm skin. “Come now. Would that be the worst thing?”

“The two of us being found alone in a darkened bedroom? I cannot think of anything worse.”

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “Had you not awoken and had I not heard you, there is a chance that, tomorrow morning, we could have been discovered sharing a bed. It makes our standing here together feel rather fortuitous. Does it not?”

Cecily gave a muted scoff, as though she understood his jocose suggestion precisely as he intended it. “Are you now also capable of talking yourself into good fortune?”

Nash quirked his head. “Is that bitterness I sense?”

“Perhaps it’s perplexity?”

Nash couldn’t fight his smile at her indirect acknowledgment. “Well, I’ll have you know, fortune does not favor me any more than anyone else. As you said, I simply choose to focus on the positive.”

“That sounds like the precise declaration of someone who is accustomed to being the constant benefactor of good luck. But unfortunately, I do not have that benefit.” The door gave a slight creak as she opened it a sliver. “So go.”

She was clearly aware that he would not dare linger near the open door for risk of being heard, so Nash reached down, blindly searching out the items he’d set near the door. When he had retrieved them, he slipped out into the corridor with his armful of possessions.

Though it was still dark, there was some ambient light that reached them from the moonlit skylight over the staircase, and his returned sense of sight, as limited as it was, was a welcome development. He turned back toward Cecily, not to get a glimpse of her, or not only anyway, but because he also wished to do the gentlemanly thing and bid her goodnight. “I⁠—”

The door clicked shut, and the distinct sound of the lock followed.

Nash smiled. All things considered, his first meeting with Cecily Bradshaw had gone rather smashingly.

Chapter Four

Cecily 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.