Page 51 of A Match of Misfortune

“It is not your fault,” Lord Rothsburg said, ensuring Bridget was well with a scanning gaze. His eyes turned on Nash, humor dancing in them. “It is his. The birds have decided they are against him.”

The footman, visibly relieved at the sentiment, gave a nod and eagerly closed the door. The collective gaze shifted to Nash, who was checking his clothing for something. “Honestly. At least this one did not relieve itself on me.”

Rothsburg laughed, and his wife looked at him. “What is he talking about?”

“Yesterday at the docks, Nash had an encounter with a seabird. Right on his forehead.”

Cecily placed a hand over her mouth, but she could not contain her laughter.

The carriage started forward, nearly sending Nash toppling on top of Cecily. Thankfully, he righted himself and quickly closed the window before resuming his seat. He pinned Cecily with an accusatory look. “You find that amusing?”

“You getting mucked on by a bird? I certainly do. Perhaps you truly have lost your luck.” At her careless words, she stilled, only then realizing the implication of what she’d said.

Bridget’s gaze was already on her. “What is this about Mr. Markham losing his luck?” Her gaze shifted to him. “Is that why these bad things keep happening to you?”

Cecily met her concerned look and gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “No, I am only teasing him.”

“I gave her my luck,” Nash said matter-of-factly. “The night of the Darlingtons’ ball, right before the situation with Lady Darlington.”

“That is what you meant by saying you gave it to her,” Lord Rothsburg said as if he now understood something.

Fredrick stared at Nash with a bemused expression while Bridget hummed thoughtfully. “That makes perfect sense,” she said. “I do not know why I did not consider it before.”

“It does?” Nash asked, sounding as surprised by her acknowledgment as Cecily was. Apparently, despite his declarations, he did not entirely believe his own conclusion.

“Oswald has always told me what a fortunate man you are, and yet practically since I met you, it seems quite the opposite is true. To a ridiculous degree. So, tell me how it happened.”

Nash’s gaze turned to Cecily. “She beguiled me with those lovely, dark eyes of hers, and I simply handed it over.”

Cecily scoffed to cover her unease at the falsehood, or perhaps it was at how her heart sped up at his ridiculous declaration. Either way, she shook her head. “That is ridiculous. As I have said before, you cannot give someone your luck. And even if you could, I did not beguile you. You simply offered it to me.”

Bridget’s lips pursed in consideration. “I have never heard of such a thing—someone giving away their luck—but it is undeniably clear you have lost yours. Which would leave one to reason: like anything lost, you should be able to find it again.”

“Yes, that is what reason suggests,” Lord Rothsburg said with a chuckle.

His wife sent him a frown before turning her attention to the others. “Perhaps we should all put our minds together and come up with ways Nash might attempt to regain it.”

Lord Rothsburg looked far too pleased with the conversation. “That sailor yesterday did say being mucked on by a bird is good luck, and then Miss Bradshaw agreed to marry you. That alone seems like evidence you are already on your way to having it restored.”

Nash shook his head, situating his foot more firmly against Cecily’s as if anchoring himself. It was a strange notion which Cecily immediately put away. Though she did keep her foot where it was, as there really was nowhere else to place it.

“Precisely,” Bridget said, nodding excitedly as if she did not realize her husband spoke in jest. She paused. “Though I’m uncertain that one actually is true—the part about the bird. It seems more like something a person would say to alleviate the embarrassment for the unfortunate recipient of the bird’s singular aim.” She appraised him. “You are not left-handed, are you? I suppose it would not matter, for it is not as though you’ve recently switched the hand you most rely upon for tasks.”

“I have seen ladies turn a chair three times around before playing cards to ensure they have a lucky hand,” Fredrick offered.

Lord Rothsburg smiled at the suggestion, his gaze shifting to Nash. “Yes, you could take to spinning yourself thrice over each time you are to leave your house.”

Bridget sent her husband a scowl this time. “It was a helpful suggestion, and unless you mean to do likewise, perhaps you should keep your thoughts to yourself.” She shifted her gaze to Fredrick. “It is certainly something to consider. Three is said to be a lucky number. Or is it that all odd numbers are unlucky? Perhaps besides three? I know I’ve heard it said that one should never sit down at a dinner party with twelve other guests, as thirteen is the most unlucky number of them all.” Bridget released a quick exhale. “I seem to more firmly remember what one should do to avoid bad luck rather than those things one can do to bring about good luck.”

“What of a coin or a lucky talisman?” Cecily said, feeling like she needed to offer something to the conversation, as nonsensical as she found it to be.

“Of course,” Bridget excitedly agreed. “I have an uncle who keeps a coin with a hole in his pocket. Occasionally he will spit upon it and wish himself luck. Perhaps we might find a similar object at one of the antique shops on New Bond Street.”

Nash’s gaze slid to her. “At this point, I’m willing to try most anything to get my luck back.”

Cecily had an unsettling feeling that he had come to his own idea, and that it somehow involved her and the deal they had made.

CECILY AND BRIDGET walked arm in arm along the pavement of New Bond Street, a few paces in front of Nash, Lord Rothsburg, and Fredrick. She could hear the men discussing Fredrick’s efforts at the Bond Street Roll, and their teasing him about how he might improve upon his attempts at the distinct walk that the young men who strolled Bond Street were apparently known for.