Page 71 of A Match of Misfortune

“Nash, dear,” Mrs. Markham said, drawing his attention. “Now that the Rothsburgs are to stay for a time, would you mind bringing your brothers upstairs to Nurse while I see to serving our guests tea?”

Nash gave a dip of his head. “Of course, Mother.”

Jamison frowned. “What about the menagerie?”

Mrs. Markham gave a small frown. “We must wait for it to stop raining. But we shall not go without you.” She glanced at Bridget, realizing that, except for Adelaide, the Rothsburgs had not yet been told of the added members to their party. “As long as that is acceptable to the both of you.”

“The more the merrier,” Bridget said.

“Certainly,” Lord Rothsburg agreed.

Nash glanced down at his brother. “You heard Mother. Let’s get you boys upstairs.”

“Can Auntie Cecily take us?” Jamison asked.

Nash’s brows raised. “You prefer Auntie Cecily over your own brother?”

Jamison gave an innocent nod.

“Jamison!” Mrs. Markham gave a small shake of her head. “That is not very kind.”

“But it is the truth, and you always say we must tell the truth.”

Cecily bit back her gloating smile. “I shall gladly take the boys upstairs and join you all in a moment.”

Mrs. Markham sent Nash an apologetic look, then nodded her approval. “Thank you, Cecily.”

As Mrs. Markham and the Rothsburgs made their way into the drawing room, Fredrick paused in front of Adelaide. “Might I assist you?”

With her timid smile and nod, he took hold of the back of her chair and carefully pushed her forward, ensuring her back wheel did not catch on anything.

“Ready?” Cecily put out her hands for Theo, and he eagerly reached for her, wrapping his arms tightly around her neck.

Nash gave her a pointed grin. “You are enjoying this, aren’t you?”

She reached for Jamison’s hand and sent Nash a victorious smile. “Perhaps a little.”

As she made her way to the staircase with the Markham boys, she could sense Nash’s gaze following her. But she would not look. She would not fall prey to his charms again. She was stronger than that.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The driving rain continued outside, but the drawing room was warm with firelight and good company. At the insistence of the others, Nash had spent the better part of an hour sharing stories of India, and though everyone else appeared enthralled by his tales, Cecily did not. Occasionally he could sense her velvet-brown eyes lingering on him, but the moment he met her gaze, she would glance away again. When others would laugh, she only offered cordial smiles—smiles that did not even reach her eyes. After their friendly exchanges earlier, he couldn’t help but wonder what had gone wrong.

At least her sudden disinterest had adequately distracted Nash from his current state of unease. Not only was he constantly thinking of his ship and what he was to do now that the wreck had been confirmed, but he also had a decision to make regarding Johnathan’s offer. He glanced at the clock. He would need to leave within the hour to ensure he arrived at the East India Docks before five.

Nash’s visit to Blackstone’s the previous night had proven promising. More than promising, really. Despite being told of the nearly certain fate of the Dawn of India, several gentlemen were not only interested in his shipping venture but enthusiastic regarding it. And yet, each time he thought of the potential consequences that might come with rejecting Johnathan’s offer, doubt consumed him. The risk was not his alone. Perhaps, if he had his luck back, he would not worry so much, but as it stood, his confidence at finding success had been greatly diminished.

“Mr. Crauford sounds like a most intimidating man,” Lady Bridget said, causing Nash to refocus his attention.

“He can be,” Nash confirmed. “But he is also generous and one of the most capable men I’ve encountered. I’ve never seen anyone better at bartering than he is. If I brought a horse to market, he’d somehow convince me I should give it to him and also pay him a sum for its upkeep.”

Fredrick’s attention was riveted. “How is it you met him?”

“He was a good friend of my father’s from school. His story is rather tragic, though.” The ensuing silence made it evident that the others wished for him to continue. “He married a young lady against her parents’ wishes. They disowned her, and she died not long after giving birth to their only child—a little girl. Cut off from everyone and desperate to prove himself, Mr. Crauford made his way to India.” Nash related to that part of his story—the proving himself. Not that he had done a tolerable job at it.

“Did he take the little girl?” Adelaide asked, clearly concerned.

“Yes, though Miss Crauford is nineteen now.” He gave a small chuckle at the memory of Honora and her stubborn ways. Mr. Crauford certainly had his hands full with her. “She’s as intimidating as her father, though in a different way. Her hair is as fiery as her personality.”