Page 43 of A Match of Misfortune

Mr. Markham laughed, resuming pushing Adelaide’s chair. “Perhaps it would help if you were to keep your eyes in the direction you’re walking.”

Mrs. Markham bit back her smile and moved to secure the chair as her husband scooped up Adelaide to carry her outside.

Cecily, still uncertain of his meaning, glanced at Nash. His face blazed red. In all their interactions, she’d never seen him appear so embarrassed. What had he been looking at?

He leaned in close as they waited for Caldwell and a footman to carry out the invalid chair. “That was your fault, you know.”

“My fault? How do you suppose?”

His gaze flitted downward for the briefest of moments, and Cecily realized she had been the distraction. The thought sent a surge of delight through her, though only because she had previously assumed him to be unaffected by her. It seemed their forthcoming interactions would be a touch more fair.

“Here I thought you were referring to me taking your luck again,” she said, barely restraining her smile.

“A reasonable conclusion, considering I certainly don’t have it back.”

It had been a difficult week for him, but Cecily could not think an exchange of his luck truly had anything to do with it, for she felt no luckier than before. Less so, in truth, with how many gentlemen were still eager to court her. Fortune would know that was the last thing she wanted. “It does seem odd. We were very particular about carrying out your designated process with exactness.”

He stopped in the empty doorway, facing her with a jocular look in response to her sarcasm. “I’ve thought about it a fair amount, and I fear we missed a crucial step.”

“And what is that?”

“After speaking the words I had you repeat,”—one side of his mouth lifted ever so slightly upward—“I kissed your hand.”

Cecily laughed, shaking her head. “If that is what is required of me, it seems you must become accustomed to a life of misfortune.”

He hardly seemed concerned by her dismissal. “Oh, but we have already agreed upon the trade. You cannot go back on it now.”

“Since I have asked nothing of you, it is hardly a binding agreement.”

“I beg to differ. It is not my fault you have not thought of anything you desire yet.”

Unable to hold his teasing gaze a moment longer, she turned from him and started down the steps to where Mr. Markham was overseeing the invalid chair being secured to the back of the carriage.

Cecily could not deny she had considered her initial idea several times over the past few days, but in each instance, she had again decided against it. Partially because of her general feelings regarding the man; partially because she now feared a feigned fondness would not deter suitors, so a more drastic strategy would be required, such as an actual betrothal, if only a temporary one; and partially because her pride would not allow for it. Apparently, she’d rather suffer under countless hours of unwanted attention from a slew of gentlemen than make such a request of Nash. Six years ago, Cecily had seen firsthand the effects of Nash Markham’s charming deceptions, and she would not bring about an arrangement where there was even a chance she would fall prey to them a second time.

A conclusion that was further confirmed when Nash lifted his hand to assist her into the carriage, and a wave of pleasure raced up her arm from his touch.

“YOU ARE HERE!” Bridget hurried down the middle of the split staircase as the Markhams, along with Cecily and Adelaide, were admitted into the entry hall. Several large bouquets Cecily had insisted they keep filled the surfaces. “You are here!”

“We are.” Mrs. Markham was sidled up next to Mr. Markham, while Nash was at the helm of Adelaide’s chair. “Thank you for the invitation.”

“Of course. Dinner will be ready soon, but for now, Oswald and Fredrick are awaiting us in the drawing room.” Bridget gestured the group toward the room where Cecily had taken her morning callers each day. Her gaze settled on Adelaide. “I’m particularly delighted you have joined us. As Fredrick is only two years older than you, I thought he’d much prefer your company to ours.”

Adelaide sent Cecily a timid glance, and though Cecily felt every bit as nervous as her sister looked, she gave an encouraging nod. The Bradshaw sisters had first met Fredrick at the Markhams’ wedding more than six years ago, when he was only a boy of ten. Though they had not met him again since, Cecily knew that Bridget would be thoughtful enough to remind him of Adelaide’s ailment before their arrival.

Bridget stepped through the drawing room doors just ahead of them. “Look who has arrived.”

Lord Rothsburg smiled his greeting, and Fredrick, who looked like a younger version of his older brother, with bright eyes, curly dark hair, and an inviting smile, hurried forward to greet the group of them. “Uncle, Aunt, how good it is to see you both! And Nash!” The two cousins shared an embrace.

“Fredrick,” Mr. Markham said, stepping up to shake his hand. “You must have grown a foot since I’ve last seen you.”

“It has been far too long.” Fredrick placed his hands behind his back, his attention shifting to Mrs. Markham. “I don’t think I’ve even met your youngest son yet. How old is he now?”

“Theo is nearly two.”

“Two?” Fredrick shook his head. “I shall be certain to come pay you a visit soon. I’d very much like to see Jamison again as well.”

The young man was even more charming than Cecily remembered, and she glanced at Adelaide to see if her sister’s expression matched her own. It did.