Page 53 of A Match of Misfortune

“It is nearly the same color as her eyes,” Cecily said, mindlessly reaching out to touch it. She glanced over her selections and then at the many other drawers, wishing Adelaide could be here choosing the ribbons herself. It was not fair that she could not be.

Nash’s gaze trailed over Cecily’s expression. “Is something amiss?”

With Nash’s attention so intently upon her, and having no desire to surrender to the strange wave of surging emotions, she allowed her agitation from earlier to resurface. She needed to speak with Nash regarding his careless comments, and now was as good a time as any. After a quick glance around to make sure no one was near enough to hear, she met Nash’s curious stare. “It was unfeeling of you to ask Adelaide to join us today.”

Nash did not flinch but just looked at her. “Adelaide needn’t be out in Society to visit Bond Street.”

“Even if we could manage to traverse the shops and the cobblestone roads with her invalid chair, people would stare at her and scorn her. Her life is not like others. It will never be. So please stop acting as though it is.”

“So you and your father simply intend to keep her shut away her whole life, thinking that will somehow protect her from hurt? What about the hurt of missing out on all the things life has to offer? Is that not worse than the curious gazes of onlookers and an occasional cruel comment?”

Cecily reeled back at the force of his remark. At the underlying accusation. “What do you know of any of it? Of trials and hardships? You’ve had no one to think of but yourself. And until a week ago, your life has been nothing but ease and effortless success. If you saw how she suffered, if you knew how those biting comments and pernicious sniggers affected her, you would not accuse my father or me of keeping her shut away her whole life. Perhaps that is why fate has dealt you this unlucky hand, so that you can feel, to some small degree, what other people must face daily.”

He stared at her. “Forgive me. I did not mean to cause offense. I know how dearly you and your father love her.”

Tears pricked Cecily’s eyes, and she was forced to glance away or risk them breaking free.

“And what are we discussing over here?” Bridget asked, a wrapped package in her hand.

“Which ribbons we should purchase for Adelaide,” Cecily said with an overdone cheeriness. She indicated the various selections she had pulled out, as if she required proof of what she claimed.

Bridget considered each. “What about a pink? It is the loveliest color on her.”

“Yes.” Cecily turned her attention back to the drawers, working along the pinks.

Bridget pointed at a wide, blush-colored ribbon. “That one.”

“Perfect,” Cecily said. “It will look lovely with the shawl Mr. Markham brought her from India.”

“Speaking of gifts,” Nash said, sending Cecily a cautious glance. “I’ve not yet had the opportunity to give you yours. Remind me when we are home, and I shall collect them for you.”

“You bought Cecily gifts while you were in India?” Bridget asked. “And for her sister as well?”

Nash gave a slow nod, seeming to realize what that implied. “I did.”

She beamed at his acknowledgment. “You truly have been in love with her for a long time.”

“A very long time.” Nash sounded impressively convincing.

Bridget released an airy sigh, but Cecily knew the gifts he claimed to have brought for her were items he’d intended for someone else. Or likely objects he’d planned to trade. Even if he recalled the color of a dress she’d worn years ago, Nash had not given her a second thought while he was away. She was certain of it.

Fairly certain, anyway.

Cecily took a backward step. “I shall see the clerk about cutting the ribbons we have selected.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away.

Chapter Seventeen

Nash and the others returned to the carriage, the general mood much more solemn than when they had first arrived on Bond Street a few hours before. In truth, he had not expected the outing to be so taxing. He’d attempted to remain unaffected by the countless slights he’d received from people who had been friendly to him a mere week-and-a-half ago. From gentlemen who had been eager to learn of upcoming investment opportunities. The whole experience had been a more dismal one than he cared to admit, but what was most distressing was to see the Rothsburgs and Cecily similarly treated on his account.

Then there had been his disagreement with Cecily in the haberdashers. He had not meant to upset her with his heedless comment, and yet that was precisely what he had managed. It hardly mattered that he had spoken a true concern of his. A concern that he had not even fully voiced. But he should have gone about it differently. Cecily’s fixed gaze out the carriage window confirmed this.

All things considered, today had been a disappointment, and the thought of spending the next few hours in the Rothsburgs’ drawing room being spurned by visitors who had no prior knowledge of his being there seemed unbearable.

Nash glanced toward Lady Bridget and Rothsburg. “Would it be too much to ask if your carriage dropped me off at home once you are all returned to Brayton House? I have some work I must see to, but I shall meet you at Hyde Park for the fashionable hour.”

“If that is what you prefer.” Lady Bridget appeared unusually weary, and he hoped their outing had not put undue stress on her while in such a delicate state. A delicate state Rothsburg had still failed to tell him of.

It wasn’t long before the carriage rolled to a stop. Fredrick exited, followed by Rothsburg and Lady Bridget. Cecily remained seated when Lady Bridget turned to see what had delayed her. “Is there anything the matter?”