Page 35 of A Match of Misfortune

Cecily reluctantly set her sights on Nash. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

He stood, taking a few steps toward her. “Wait until you see what I have brought for you.”

Her brows lifted. “Me?” Cecily did not know how to respond. The last thing she was expecting was a gift from Nash. She certainly had done nothing to deserve one, though perhaps it was not about her but about impressing others with his generosity. “You do not need to give me anything.”

Nash’s lips twitched at the corners. “I purchased the gifts for you. It would make little sense to give them to someone else.”

Gifts? As in plural? Cecily opened her mouth, but no words came out, so she closed it again.

He took another step toward her. “One item was, unfortunately, slightly sullied in the mud yesterday when my trunk tumbled from the carriage, but Mrs. Ingram has seen to the cleaning of it, and it is as good as new.”

“Here it is!” Jamison ran back into the room, holding a miniature sword. He unsheathed it and handed it to Cecily. A blunt wooden blade made up one end, and a shiny, white material made up the hilt.

“Is this mother-of-pearl?” Cecily asked, running her fingers along the intricate pattern. She’d seen small bits of jewelry made from the iridescent material, but she’d never seen such a large piece. It was mesmerizing.

Nash stepped close. “It is. And this here”—Nash set his hand against Cecily’s on the hilt as if to steady it and pointed to a decorative inlay with his other—“is a tiger’s tooth.”

Jamison nodded in excitement. “From a real tiger!”

Cecily swallowed, her thoughts suddenly muddled. When her heart started pattering about recklessly, she realized it was the same, silly reaction she’d had to Nash’s touch the other night, and she finally had the sense to release her hold on the sword. She took a small backward step and rubbed her hand against the skirts of her dress as though that would help dissipate the lingering sensation of his hand against hers. “I do hope you’ll be careful with it,” she said to Jamison. “It looks rather dangerous.”

As harmless as the sword likely was, Jamison looked absolutely thrilled at the notion. “Nash said I must keep it some place safe where Theo cannot get it.”

“That is wise of your brother.”

Nash ceremoniously handed the miniature sword back to Jamison, who solemnly took it and sheathed it again. The whole thing would have been endearing had Cecily not known Nash was always one for grand theatrics.

“Would you like your gifts now?” Nash’s gaze was locked on Cecily, and both Jamison and Adelaide nodded their heads in excitement.

What else could she do but accept? “I suppose⁠—”

A knock sounded on the front door, causing Cecily to pause and listen. It could not be the Rothsburgs already. She had another two hours, at least, until they would come around to gather her for their promenade in Hyde Park. Caldwell could be heard opening the door, and though she could not hear what was being said, it was clearly a gentleman speaking. Likely a visitor for Nash or Mr. Markham.

Steps sounded down the corridor, and a moment later, Caldwell stepped through into the library. “For you, Miss Bradshaw.” He presented her with an ivory-colored calling card.

Cecily took it from the silver tray, her brow furrowing and her gaze returning to Caldwell. “Lord Harlow is here?”

“Yes, and he wishes to know if you are at home to visitors.”

She could feel Nash appraising her with an unyielding stare.

“Where is Mrs. Markham?” Cecily asked. She could not see him on her own.

“She has not yet returned from her visits.”

It was odd how relieved Cecily felt at the excuse that was granted her. “As much as I wish it were not the case, tell Lord Harlow that, regretfully, I⁠—”

“See him to the drawing room, Caldwell,” Nash said, interrupting Cecily. “I shall gladly play chaperone to the couple.”

Caldwell bowed—as if Nash had the final say—and disappeared around the corner.

Cecily turned on Nash, pulling him away from the library door so Lord Harlow would not glimpse them as he was being shown into the drawing room. “Why did you do that? You are not a proper chaperone.”

“Ah, Featherbottom will not mind. He’d likely see you without one if you’d allow it.”

Footsteps sounded just outside the door, and Cecily stilled.

“Besides,” Nash said, not even altering the volume of his voice, “it’s not as though you haven’t spent several of the last few evenings in his company. He likely has come to offer for⁠—”