Page 23 of A Match of Misfortune

“Just trust me. He is not the gentleman for you.” Mindlessly, Nash clapped with the others for the orchestra as the music ended, speaking louder to compensate for the applause. “Not unless you wish to be perpetually on exhibit, as though you were some sort of trophy he’d won. And with your twenty-thousand-pound dowry, that’s exactly what you would be.”

Her eyes widened, and she looked around with a panicked expression. A few people nearby glanced in their direction, but even though the clapping had ceased, he doubted anyone cared to take notice of their conversation.

She drew closer. “How do you know of my dowry?”

“Before I left for India, I overheard your father telling my parents of it.”

She gaped at him, a look of utter betrayal in her eyes. “You mustn’t mention the amount again,” she hissed. “Swear it.”

His gaze roved over her sober features, attempting to make sense of the odd request. What lady hoping to make a notable match concealed the sum of her dowry? “Very well. If you will consider my warning about Lord Harlow.”

She did not agree, but Nash knew it was not an actual deal. He would tell no one of the dowry if she did not wish him to.

Couples began taking their places in groups of circles on the floor, and Nash offered his arm to lead Cecily forward. She set her arm so lightly upon his sleeve that he could not feel it through the thick fabric of his coat.

“Why should I trust your opinion on the matter?” she asked. “It seems a rather reckless thing to do considering our history.”

Nash cocked a brow. “Ourhistory? Did you not point out to Lady Victoria that we had no history?” He deposited Cecily in her spot and took up the one to her left, with three other couples joining them to form a full circle among several other groupings.

“That is not what I said. I said we had not been friends for ages. Which is the truth since we have never been friends.”

Nash placed a hand over his heart dramatically. “You wound me.”

Cecily’s expression was one of cool indifference, and Nash wondered at her restraint. Not that he had expected to glimpse amusement on her face, but she typically offered him at least an upward flick of her eyes as a response to his attempts to humor her. She truly must be upset.

The music began, and between the lively tune and involved steps, conversation was nearly impossible as they moved through the dance. Each time Nash passed Cecily or the two of them came together, he sent her a smile or a conspiratorial look. She ignored each one. But she could not ignore him the entirety of the dance. As the second couple in the formation, she and Nash would only be dancing the first and second portions before it was the other couples’ turns to do so. Then they would wait. Together.

When the time finally arrived, Nash glanced over at her. “You are quite the dancer.”

She kept her gaze on the couples. “Only not as good of a dancer as you?”

Nash shook his head, uncertain if he was amused or offended at her reference to their childhood competitions. “You are not being fair to me. The last time we were together, I was but a boy. I acted foolishly. I made mistakes. As all young men—and young ladies—do. Are you to hold my youthful shortcomings against me indefinitely?”

Her lips pressed together and her hands fisted at her side. Perhaps he should not have put an emphasis on that last word.

He needed to try again, more gently this time. With how often they would likely see one another over the next few months, it would be best if they were to figure out how to interact more amiably. “People can change. They can grow.”

Her gaze met his with a force he was not prepared for. “And in what ways have you grown? All I have seen since your return is the same heedless behavior as before. Perhaps worse.”

Nash’s brows furrowed and he drew back slightly. What the devil was she talking about? He had hardly seen her since his return. “Are you referring to my intervention with Featherbottom just now? Or my teasing you?”

“The fact that you do not even know what I’m referring to demonstrates how little you have changed.” Cecily hesitated, like she wasn’t sure this was the time to discuss it. As for himself, he had no desire to wait until another opportunity presented itself.

“Then tell me.”

“Do you know how excited your family was to see you? How eager they’ve been to have you visit again after your brief appearance the other morning? Mrs. Markham constantly glances out the window. Each day when Mr. Markham gets home from the bank, he inquires if we’ve heard from you. And each of the last few nights before Jamison has gone to bed, he’s asked if we thought you’d come the next day. If you would bring him the gift that you promised.”

Nash stared at Cecily, uncertain how to respond. He had meant, on several occasions, to visit his family, yet something else had always taken precedence. But he knew he’d get there. Eventually. “I’ve had much to do and⁠—”

“How long did you hesitate in accepting the invitation for the Darlingtons’ ball over that of your parents’?” She paused, her gaze full of discernment. “Mrs. Markham had Cook prepare braised duck with orange sauce.”

His favorite. Nash’s stomach seized at the blow.

Cecily’s expression softened. Not for him, as she never had sympathy for him, but for the clear love she had for his family. “You don’t know how blessed you are to have them. You should make the most of the few months you have.”

This time, it was Nash who glanced away.

The last female finished leading, and the two couples resumed their places in the circle for the next dance to begin. Nash and Cecily started moving through the formations apathetically, not speaking to one another as they did. There were no playful looks on Nash’s part this time. His thoughts churned in his mind, and when their turn finally ended, Nash found he was relieved. He watched the next couples fulfill their parts with an absent gaze.