Page 21 of A Match of Misfortune

After Nash’s comment about Cecily cataloguing his faults, it would be too condemning to list all the reasons she could not tolerate him. Though she was in no short supply of them. “Nothing in particular. I fear it has always been this way with us, though we typically try not to quarrel when others are around.”

Bridget gave a tight laugh. “That interaction was restrained?”

Cecily’s cheeks warmed at the chastisement. Why could she not control her sharp tongue and temper around Nash? There was no other person in this world she would speak to in such a manner. “I suppose not entirely, and I apologize.”

“You needn’t apologize. Mr. Markham seemed to do most of the instigating. It appeared he was purposefully trying to vex you.”

Cecily’s heart squeezed at the acknowledgment. No one ever found fault with Nash.

“I shall speak to him,” Bridget asserted. “I imagine, now that he’s home and also intending to make a match, we’ll be spending a good deal of time together this Season. We shall need the two of you to come to some sort of truce. But for now, I truly wish to make another introduction.” Bridget smiled brightly, stepping before two gentlemen. “Lord Weaton, how good it is to see you again.”

Lord Weaton was a friendly-looking man with smiling eyes and thinning blond hair. He would likely not be considered handsome by many, but perhaps that was because he was standing beside a gentleman that most would pale in comparison to. He too was blond, but his angular jawline and sculpted features seemed to be borrowed from a bust of Adonis. Not that Cecily had any interest in him, but she did find it difficult to keep her gaze from wandering to the unknown man a second time.

Lord Weaton bowed. “Lady Bridget Rothsburg.”

“I hope we were not intruding upon your conversation, but I would very much like to introduce you to a dear friend of mine, Miss Bradshaw.”

Both gentlemen glanced toward Cecily, and she offered a curtsy. When she lifted, Lord Weaton was mid-bow, but the other gentleman’s gaze was on her, a slight smile on his face.

“It is a pleasure.” Lord Weaton gestured to the other man. “And allow me to introduce a friend of mine, Lord Harlow, the Earl of Harlow.”

“Lord Harlow?” Bridget asked, her eyes shining with unspoken humor. “What a small world it is. My husband and his cousin were just speaking of you earlier today.”

“I cannot imagine I fared well in a conversation between the two of them.”

“Nonsense. Mr. Markham seemed exceptionally pleased you have inherited a title, and he hoped the two of you could speak soon—put aside past disagreements.”

His brows lifted slightly. “Mr. Markham said that?”

“He did.”

Cecily wasn’t sure what had transpired between Lord Harlow and Nash, but she didn’t doubt it was Nash’s fault.

Lord Harlow set his gaze on Cecily. “And where is it that you are from, Miss Bradshaw?”

“Kent, not far from Staplehurst.”

“I am from Kent,” Lord Weaton said, smiling. “Though farther east near Ashford.”

“That is beautiful country.”

“It certainly is. As is Staplehurst. I regularly claim that Kent is the finest county in all of England.”

Cecily’s smile was genuine. “I find I cannot disagree with you.”

“My aunt and uncle are near Staplehurst,” Lord Harlow said, joining the conversation. “The Callahans.”

“Yes. They are in our parish. I do not know them well, but they have a daughter a year older than my sister. Maria, I believe?” Not that she and Adelaide had ever spoken.

“Yes.” Lord Harlow smiled. “She recently turned sixteen, but to her great disappointment, her parents have decided she will not have her first Season until next year. Perhaps, upon your return to Staplehurst, Maria and your sister might lament about the injustice of being too young for a Season just yet.”

Cecily tried not to let her smile falter. “Perhaps.”

Bridget, since having discovered Lord Harlow’s name, seemed unable to control her amusement. Her gaze eagerly slid between the two of them, a smile dancing on her lips. “As we have just arrived, Miss Bradshaw has not yet had the opportunity to dance.”

Her blatant intentions made Cecily blush.

Clearly aware of Bridget’s expectation, Lord Harlow gave a small bow in Cecily’s direction. “I would be⁠—”