Page 45 of A Match of Misfortune

Cecily refrained from restating that they, in fact, did not share much of a relationship at all. “Truly, as I’ve said before, there isn’t much to know.”

Nash flicked his chin in her direction. “She set her mind to dislike me before we ever met.”

Cecily met Nash’s gaze. “Are you certain it wasn’t your talent for vexing me that caused the rift between us? After all, at our introduction, you did compare my hair to straw.”

Nash chuckled. “I had meant the color of it, though I now acknowledge that wheat might have been a more tactful comparison.”

“As soon as we were out of earshot of your father and Mrs. Markham, you said I looked the part of a disgruntled scarecrow.”

Bridget’s eyes widened. “Surely not?”

He held up a finger between himself and Cecily. “I admit, that comment was mainly intended to vex you, but with the combination of your overdone scowl and how your hair was slightly askew from traveling that first day, you cannot deny that you very well could have scared an entire murder of crows had we stood you in a field.”

Vindicated, Cecily’s gaze slid to Bridget. “Case in point.”

Bridget pinched her lips together, clearly fighting her amusement. “But after so many years apart, to still be so entirely set against one another makes little sense. Especially when you both love the Markhams so dearly. Unless there is more that you’re not telling me?” Her gaze shifted back and forth between them with suspicion. “Mr. Markham, you did claim that Cecily thought you were handsome, and I can hardly think you failed to appreciate her beauty. Were there ever feelings between the two of you?”

Cecily’s cheeks betrayed her with growing warmth, but she would not confess what had occurred between the two of them before Nash had left for India. She only prayed Nash would feel similarly and resist sharing the story.

“Unfortunately not,” Nash said before Cecily could even send him an imploring glance. “Not that I would have minded the idea of a pretty young woman pining after me while I was away.”

For the second time since his return, Cecily found herself grateful that Nash refrained from sharing more than he needed to while simultaneously not appreciating his haphazard method of going about it.

“Speaking of pretty young women, I suppose your hunt for a wife has been temporarily suspended?”

Nash gave a brief, humorless laugh. “It’s hard to find a lady to court when one spends all their time at the docks.” He paused. “And it’s not as though I’m declining invitations.”

Bridget gave a nod of understanding.

“But it’s no matter,” Nash continued. “India is a long way from England. It hardly seems fair to ask a new bride to relocate halfway across the world.”

“You are giving up your hope of marrying?”

“For now.”

Cecily studied his profile. Was he in earnest?

“Well, at least we shall have one marriage by the end of the Season.” Bridget looked near ready to burst from excitement, and Cecily’s stomach twisted as she wondered what her reason for it was. “You recall Lord Weaton, Lord Harlow’s friend?”

Cecily gave a stiff nod of her head.

“Oswald was speaking to him at White’s earlier, and he mentioned that Lord Harlow is to offer for you.”

Without permission, Cecily’s gaze shifted to Nash, and the force of his look stole the breath from her lungs. She forced her attention back to Bridget.

“Is that not wonderful news?” Bridget said, still beaming.

“I …” Cecily cleared her throat. “Is Lord Weaton certain that is Lord Harlow’s intention?”

“Yes.” Bridget’s expression softened. “I know you likely do not wish to get your hopes up, but I would not have shared the news were I not certain of it.”

Cecily’s chest suddenly felt tight. She pulled her shoulders back to compensate for it, but it didn’t help relieve the pressure. “We have only known one another for a short time.”

“A gentleman must act swiftly once he is sure of his decision, or he might miss his opportunity. It is the way of things. Oswald and I only knew one another for a fortnight before he offered for me.” She reached out and took hold of Cecily’s hand. “Besides, Lord Harlow is precisely the sort of match you are hoping for—practical, not the least bit dull, and plenty handsome. You will also be a countess.”

Cecily resisted another glance at Nash to see what he would make of Bridget’s comment. It was true that, if she were looking to marry sensibly, Lord Harlow was a prudent choice. But she was not looking to marry, so news of an impending offer made her feel as though she might be sick. She placed a hand over her chest, pulling in a slow, calming breath while she considered an appropriate response.

The Rothsburgs’ butler stepped just inside the door, drawing the attention of the room. “Dinner is served.”