Page 32 of A Match of Misfortune

She knew it! He had not come up here to speak with her but to continue his campaign against his former rival. Well, she had no time for his games. She turned away from him so quickly that her hair whipped around her from the force. His hand caught hers, and regrettably, her breath hitched. She hated that his touch did that to her.

“Forgive me,” he said, a hint of desperation in his voice. “I’ll not say another word about Featherbottom.”

She slowly inhaled, wondering if she currently had the patience for … whatever this was, before reluctantly facing him again. Her gaze dropped to their hands. “Might I have my hand back, then?” she asked, desperate for the tingling in her body to stop so that she might think more clearly.

He glanced down at their hands as if he’d forgotten he had a hold of hers. Was he so accustomed to the close proximity of the opposite sex that he was wholly unaffected by her touch? It would hardly surprise her. “Forgive me,” he said, releasing it.

She clasped her hands behind her back, if only to give them a place to go. “Well?”

Nash hesitated. He glanced at the door, then back at Cecily, before leaning in closer to lower his voice. “Do you remember last night at the ball when you were talking about my luck, and I teasingly replied that you could have it?”

Cecily nodded, unsure where this conversation was leading.

Nash lifted his hands between them, his palms facing her. “I admit this is going to sound strange, but I think I may have actually given it to you.”

Cecily stared at him, her lips parting ever so slightly. He had to be jesting. “Your luck?”

Nash nodded. “With all the bad things that keep happening to me, it’s the only thing that makes any sense.”

Laughter nearly burst from her. “You giving me your luck, makes sense? Do you hear yourself?”

“You were the one who brought up my luck and said that everything always goes my way. It’s true. For the most part it does. Until last night after our conversation.”

Cecily’s brow furrowed. It was strange that so much had gone wrong for Nash in such a small window of time. But passing his luck to another? Surely not. “And you think I have it?”

“Lady Bridget mentioned how many callers you had today.”

Cecily’s head jolted backward at the slight. She was aware of the reason for so many gentlemen visiting her, but he was none the wiser about their having overheard him speak of her dowry, which meant he simply did not think Cecily capable of drawing their attention. Even if his reasoning was accurate, his conclusion pricked.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Nash said, apparently realizing his error a moment too late. “I only meant that Lady Bridget had seemed amazed at the number of gent⁠—”

“It is quite evident what you meant.”

Nash lowered his chin and sent her a disbelieving look, as though he were the one insulted. “Truly, I did not⁠—”

She put a hand up to stop him, her chest buzzing with indignation. “So what must I do to give you your luck back so that you’ll be on your way?”

Nash paused, drawing in a slow, sharp breath, as if debating whether he should move forward with the request or have another go at explaining his clumsy comment. “Well, I simply stated that you could have it,” he finally said. “Though maybe it would be wise for you to use the same words I did.”

“Which were what again?”

“I believe it was It is yours to have. All of it.” He brought a hand to his chin. “But I wonder if you should clarify what it is exactly that is mine to have. Such as My luck is yours to have. All of it.”

She lifted a brow. “This is ridiculous, you know.”

Surprisingly, a hint of red touched his cheeks as though he was very much aware. For a man who always insisted luck had no sway over him, he certainly seemed to believe in it now. “Nonetheless, I thank you for humoring me. Now …” He made a rolling motion with his hand.

“My luck is yours to have—” She halted mid phrase. What was she doing? Surely, there was an opportunity here she was not taking advantage of. He more than deserved a little torment after the hours of gentlemen callers she’d endured earlier. “Wait. Let’s say, for a moment, I believe the absurd claim that I have somehow taken your luck. Why should I so willingly give it back? You have had it nigh on four and twenty years. Should it not be someone else’s turn?”

Nash opened his mouth, then closed it again, and Cecily could barely restrain her delight. Nash Markham had never been rendered speechless before. At least not that she could recall. He ran a hand through his hair, but Cecily refused to be distracted by it. “Can you not see what a wretch I am without my luck?” His tone was too overdone to elicit any true pity. “My life is falling into shambles, precisely as you predicted.”

She curled her lips inward, biting back her amusement. “That does seem to be the truth of it.”

He shook his head, fighting his own smile. “Besides, it’s not yours.”

“Oh, but you gave it to me. All of it.”

His gaze searched hers. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? You tricked me into giving it to you with your charms.”