Page 39 of A Match of Misfortune

Nash slung an arm around Rothsburg’s shoulder as he stepped in next to him. “Forgive me, I’ve had much going on.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Nash glanced over at him. “Have you?”

“Cecily mentioned the news briefly on our way to Almack’s two evenings ago. ”

Nash nodded, relieved the information hadn’t been from another source.

“But, Nash, I’ve also heard of it elsewhere.”

Nash stopped, facing Rothsburg. “What do you mean?”

“Rumors have spread that your ship has run aground.”

Devil take Featherbottom and his cursed eavesdropping. Nash pulled off his beaver, running a hand through his unruly hair. “Is nothing to go right for me?”

The call of a seabird from above had both men looking upward at the majestic, swooping figure when something dropped from beneath it. Nash flinched as a glob of warm, wet liquid hit the left side of his forehead. A second landed on his shoulder. Instinctively, he touched it, glancing down at the brown and white excrement now marring his fingers as well. “Did a bird truly just muck on me? Right in that moment?”

Rothsburg stared at him with his mouth hanging open when suddenly, the humor lighting his eyes won out. He bent forward, slapping his thigh and letting out a hoot of laughter.

“You think this is funny?” Nash said, fully aware how ineffective his scowl was with bird droppings running down the side of his face.

Rothsburg glanced up, tears brimming in his eyes, but the sight was apparently too much and he dropped his head again, continuing in his hearty fit of laughter.

“Blasted birds.” Nash fought the desire to join him, intent on holding on to his foul mood. Several passersby glanced in their direction, the men pointing and smirking, making Nash’s choice to brood longer an easy one. Pulling out his handkerchief, he attempted to clean what he could from his face.

“Looks like someone’s in for some good luck,” one of the sailors said with a jovial smile directed at Nash.

Nash pointed at the glob of droppings still on his shoulder. “This is good luck?”

He turned around, taking a few backwards steps. “Aye. Or so they say.”

Nash shook his head, setting his attention to wiping off his shoulder, but with the soiled handkerchief, it simply smeared the mess. “Are you done yet?” he asked Rothsburg, who had just righted his posture.

“Forgive me. I don’t remember the last time I laughed that hard.” Rothsburg’s chest heaved, his face still red. “But you have to admit, the bird’s timing was impeccable.”

Nash gave up trying to wipe his shoulder and stuffed his dirtied kerchief in his pocket. It all needed laundering anyway. “Almost as though the fates want to make plain how truly against me they are.”

“For a man who has always resisted acknowledging good luck in your successes, you certainly aren’t shying away from blaming bad luck for your hardships.”

“I don’t have time for this. I need to be making connections and securing investments, not wandering around the docks attempting to verify if my ship has wrecked. And that is to say nothing of my ruinous reputation. Since the Darlingtons’ ball, I’ve not received a single invitation. Anywhere.”

Rothsburg clapped his hands together. “That is not true. You have an invitation to our house this evening to celebrate Fredrick’s return from Scotland. Your parents and the Bradshaw sisters will also be there.”

Nash dropped his head back. Cecily was the last person he wished to see right now. Likely because she could add his current failures to her ever-growing list of weaknesses. “I appreciate your including me, but I’m not⁠—”

“It is not an option. Unless you wish to suffer pains of death and my never forgiving you, my wife expects you to be there.” Rothsburg knocked an elbow into Nash’s. “Besides, you can sulk as easily at our house.”

Nash folded his arms across his chest and released a heavy breath, appraising his cousin. Though Rothsburg wore a smile, Nash could sense he expected him there. “I should like to see your brother again.”

Rothsburg chuckled. “Your enthusiasm is contagious.”

Chapter Fourteen

Cecily sat in the library with Theo on her lap and Jamison tucked near her side, reading to them from The Fables of Aesop. “Which should we read next?” Cecily asked.

Jamison flipped a few pages, then stopped. “This one.”