Page 57 of A Match of Misfortune

“Oh, but that is still an option.”

His gaze shifted to her. “I thought you said⁠—”

“Not a kiss from me. From another young lady.”

Nash pushed out a silent breath of frustration. He didn’t want a kiss from another young lady. He wanted a kiss from Cecily. But now was certainly not the time to admit such a thing. “How am I to find a lady to court if we are betrothed?”

“A young lady’s nature is such that we often want what we either cannot have or what another has. When word spreads of our betrothal, I suspect your desirability will increase.” She glanced up at him, donning a proud smile. “So a second benefit to you is that I shall gladly introduce you to whichever young ladies you wish to meet over these coming weeks.”

“What about you? Is the nature of a gentleman not similar? Will our betrothal not cause Featherbottom to put in a more valiant effort to capture your heart? Others as well?”

“From what I have witnessed, men tend to be disheartened when a lady selects another over them. Besides, a lady’s reputation does not recover as easily from a broken betrothal as does a gentleman’s. Which is an acceptable consequence for me.”

“Because you never wish to marry?”

“Precisely.”

They walked a while in silence, Nash attempting to make sense of why Cecily was opposed to matrimony. Mother had once told him Cecily’s parents had been a love match, and the way Cecily watched his own mother and father interact, and the Rothsburgs as well, as though the very idea of their love brought her happiness, did not seem a typical reaction of a person set against the concept. Perhaps her reluctance had to do with Adelaide. That Cecily would not allow herself to fall in love because her sister might not have a similar opportunity. He could hardly fault her compassion, but it seemed a hefty sacrifice.

“Were you truly planning to return to India in a week or two?” Cecily asked, pulling his attention back to her.

“With how things have gone since my return, it seemed my only option.”

She bit at her lip nervously. “Does it still seem your only option?”

“Not now that I’m betrothed.”

Cecily’s steps slowed, then stopped, and she turned to face Nash. “It was not fair of me to ask this of you.”

Nash smirked. “Ask?”

Her shoulders dropped slightly, and she gave a pout. It was not an overdone pout but a genuine one. “Very well. It was not fair of me to place this on you. So if you wish to return to India, we needn’t continue.”

“You just told the Rothsburgs that they could share the news of our betrothal with others.”

She gave an apologetic smile. “I admit this whole thing wasn’t well thought out on my part.”

“Neither was my hasty return to India,” Nash admitted.

Her gaze moved across his expression, as though attempting to decipher his thoughts. “So … what do you wish to do?”

“After your speech of all the benefits of our arrangement, it would be unwise of me to not at least remain through the Season. Besides, we had a deal, and I intend to keep my word.”

Cecily’s smile was brighter than the sun in the sky. Brighter even, considering it had grown rather cloudy. It was then he realized she did not have a pelisse, likely because the day had started warmer, but there was now a distinct chill in the air. Thankfully, they were not too far from his parents’. Another five minutes or so.

“How are things to end between us?” Nash asked.

Cecily started forward again. “In order to give you time to court another lady before your departure, it makes the most sense that we end it before I return to Penrose Court. We can say I cannot bear the idea of leaving my family to return to India with you, and since we don’t know how long you will be away, it makes little sense to remain betrothed.”

“Sounds promising,” Nash said dryly.

“Well, if you have a different idea, feel free to share it.”

A movement in Nash’s periphery sent him glancing toward the doorstep of the townhouse they were soon to pass. He stilled. “Don’t move.”

“What is it?” Cecily followed his gaze, her eyes landing on the creature watching them with a menacing look. “The cat?”

“It’s a black cat.”