Page 31 of A Match of Misfortune

Rothsburg tilted his head to one side. “What did you give? And to whom?”

“Never mind.” Nash stood. “I shall be back momentarily.”

“Where are you going?” Rothsburg watched him walk toward the door with a look of puzzlement.

“I must speak with Miss Bradshaw.”

“Nash, you cannot go now. She is⁠—”

Rothsburg’s protest faded as Nash headed into the corridor and started up the stairs at a hurried pace. However mad Cecily might consider him, at least this was some sort of plan. Besides, it wasn’t as though she could think less of him than she already did.

Chapter Eleven

Cecily appraised her reflection in the mirror of the makeshift vanity on Nash’s bureau while Mrs. Batton brushed out her long, golden-brown hair. She still couldn’t decide if the necklace was overmuch for an evening at the theater. It was a delicate piece with blue gems, each enclosed by a small ring of diamonds.

“It matches your gown perfectly,” Bridget said, realizing where Cecily’s attention had gone.

“It truly does,” Adelaide agreed.

Bridget set an affectionate hand on Adelaide’s shoulder and sent her a conspiratorial smile. “See there? The vote has been cast. You must wear it.”

With both of their imploring eyes upon her, Cecily could not find it in herself to refuse.

A knock sounded at the door.

“I’ll answer it,” Bridget said, standing and making her way to the door. “Mr. Markham? What are you doing here?” By the casual tone of Bridget’s voice, Cecily knew exactly which Mr. Markham she was speaking to.

What did Nash want?

“I need to speak with Miss Bradshaw.” His voice easily carried to where she sat.

“Now? She is not yet ready.”

“It will only take a minute.”

Bridget glanced at Cecily, then back at Nash. “What is so urgent that it cannot wait?”

Nash hesitated to respond. “I am not at liberty to say.”

Cecily sent Mrs. Batton an apologetic look and stood, all too aware he would not leave until he had his way. She could not deny there was also a part of her that was curious about what he had to say that could not wait. She stepped into the doorway next to Bridget, and Nash’s gaze landed on the hair hanging loose around her shoulders.

“What is it?” she asked, her snipped response pulling his eyes back to hers.

He glanced at Bridget, his fingers mindlessly tapping on his thigh. “May we speak in private?”

Cecily’s shoulders dropped as she considered him.

“It will be brief,” he said.

“Very well.” She took a step to join him in the corridor, and with one last glance between them, Bridget shut the door.

Nash took a few steps from where they stood, and after a brief huff, Cecily followed. “What do you wish to discuss?” She wasted no time with niceties. She needed to finish getting ready or they would be late. “And please tell me you do not intend to offer another warning against Lord Harlow.”

“Why would I waste my breath on that? You would not listen.”

She gave a defiant lift of her chin. “Clearly not.”

“In which case, I shall refrain from mentioning that the man has more hair than wit and is inclined toward thinking the world, and everything in it, belongs to him.”