Page 26 of A Match of Misfortune

Now it was Mr. Woods’ turn to stare. “Mr. Markham, you realize that if the will is deemed legitimate, regardless of whether or not it actually is, you could very well lose the inheritance?”

“I realize. Though that will not be the case.” Nash stood, not the least bit concerned. “Thank you for coming. If you’ll excuse me, I have some things I must see to so I might be out of the townhouse by the end of the day.”

Chapter Nine

Rain hammered the windows of the library. The sound of it, in combination with the roaring fire, gave the room a cozy feeling. Cecily wished she could remain right here for the evening, working on filigree with Adelaide as she did now, but Bridget had accepted Lord Harlow’s invitation to attend the theater. After the trying day she’d had, the very thought exhausted her.

When Cecily had arrived at the Rothsburgs’ that morning, she had expected only a handful of gentlemen callers. Instead, she and Bridget had sat in the drawing room for hours, receiving what felt like an inordinate number of hopeful suitors. But the worst part of it was that no matter what subtle attempts Cecily made to deter each of them, the gentlemen had not seemed dissuaded in their pursuits. When the last had finally left, Bridget had excitedly declared Cecily’s entrance into Society to be a smashing success.

Cecily knew otherwise.

The only sensible explanation for her amassing as much interest as she had, particularly after her efforts to the contrary, was that someone had overheard Nash’s declaration regarding the sum of her dowry. Now, thanks to him, every fortune hunter in London would descend upon her. Likely, even Lord Harlow was among them for that very reason. Not that she’d say as much to Nash. This Season had gone from bad to worse. If only there was a way to be done with it while still fulfilling her end of her bargain with Papa.

Adelaide wrapped a piece of paper tightly around a pin, dabbed some glue on the end, and stuck it to the small wooden box. “Of all the gentlemen who visited you today, which do you most prefer?”

Cecily glued her own tightly wound piece of paper and handed it to Adelaide before retrieving another. “I hardly know any of them.”

“But if there was one you wished to know better, who would it be? Is Lord Harlow your favorite?”

Cecily met her sister’s imploring stare. It was not Adelaide’s fault her patience had run thin, so she considered her sister’s question, despite knowing that she preferred none. “He was certainly the most handsome of those who visited.”

Adelaide giggled, thankfully appeased with her reply. “Is he more handsome than Nash?”

The edge of Cecily’s strip of paper slipped from her grasp and unwound itself, making her startle. She reset her attention firmly to the task of winding it again. “I suppose it depends on one’s preferences.”

“Which do you prefer?”

Cecily gave a tight laugh, forcing away the vexing memory of Nash placing a kiss upon her knuckles last night. The way his light eyes seemed to look past her defenses. “I shall not answer that. I do not want you to get any incorrect notions in that head of yours.”

“So you think Nash is the handsomer of the two?”

Cecily dropped her chin, pinning her sister with a look.

Adelaide gave a proud smile. “If Lord Harlow had been your choice, you would have said as much.”

A loud knock on the front door sent both ladies glancing toward the entrance to the library. Eager to move on from the current topic of conversation, Cecily stood. “I had best see who that is. Mrs. Markham is still in the nursery with the boys.”

Cecily stepped past the stairwell and into the short corridor that led to the front entry hall when the Markhams’ butler, Caldwell, opened the door. “Mr. Markham.” Expecting the actual Mr. Markham, Cecily’s heart thudded to a stop to find a saturated Nash stepping through the door instead. She pressed herself against the wall, hoping to remain unnoticed. The butler’s gaze moved behind Nash into the street beyond, then back to him. “Do you require assistance?”

Nash removed his beaver, shook it just outside, and handed it to Caldwell before closing the door behind him. “Actually, I do. I assume my father is not yet home from the bank?”

“Not yet.”

“Might you retrieve my mother for me, then? I shall wait here.”

Caldwell gave a bow, then headed past Cecily to where the servants’ staircase was situated. For a moment she contemplated retreating into the library before Nash caught sight of her, but she knew her sister would ask after who it was, and she had no desire to explain her poor manners.

Nash’s gaze moved across the entrance hall to his left, taking in the assortment of newly acquired bouquets that overwhelmed the space. Whether he realized the collection was Cecily’s was yet to be determined. Not that she’d be the one to tell him. Nor would she inform him it was all his doing.

“Miss Bradshaw.” Nash’s gaze landed on her, lingering in the corridor, a smile forming on his lips. “Forgive me. I did not see you lurking there.”

Despite her current state of annoyance, she approached him so she needn’t speak too loudly. “Have you finally come to visit your family?” There was little warmth in her voice.

“Something like that.”

With the slight twinkle that entered his eyes, Cecily thought to press the matter but refrained, knowing that was precisely what Nash wished for her to do. “And are you recovered? Lord Rothsburg returned to the ball just before supper, saying he’d taken you home. That you’d not seemed quite yourself.”

“I feel much improved.” He ran his hand through his hair, pausing at the back and wincing slightly. “Besides a slight bump on my head from the fall.”