Page 75 of A Match of Misfortune

She hesitated briefly on the threshold before stepping through. “What can I do?”

“Just be an extra set of hands when I require it.” He finished unwrapping the bandage, set it aside, and dipped his hand in the water basin. It took all his willpower to not wince in front of her. Once it was submerged, he set to cleaning the blood from his palm. The cut was both long and deep, as the shard of glass had sliced his skin before settling itself in the fleshy part beneath his thumb. If the wound continued to open, he’d likely require a surgeon to stitch it closed, though he hoped it would not come to that. He took hold of a cloth to dry his hands, pausing to have a glance at how the cut looked now that he’d cleaned off most of the blood. “Congratulations on your victory in charades,” he said, realizing Cecily hadn’t spoken again since coming inside.

“Thank you.” Her voice was breathy, and he glanced behind him to find her seated on the chest at the foot of the bed, her face pale.

“Are you well?”

“Yes, I …” She gave a little shake of her head and leaned forward in the chair. She paused, drawing in a long, slow breath.

“Cecily?” He made his way to where she sat and kneeled before her. “What is the matter?”

“I think it’s the blood.”

“Do you need to lie down? I can help you to the bed if you wish.”

She shook her head. “I simply need a moment.” Cecily closed her eyes, her breathing slow and intentional. After a minute or two, the color returned to her cheeks, and she peeked open an eye. Only then did Nash realize he’d simply been kneeling there watching her.

“Forgive me. Your hand, is it …”

He placed the hand down by his side so she wouldn’t glimpse it again. “Do not worry yourself. I can tend to it.”

Cecily gave a timid nod, and Nash retrieved the fresh strips of linen from the bureau. His mother had insisted on dressing his hand the previous night upon his return, but he was confident he could manage it on his own. Yet with only one hand, maintaining a tight enough wrap while also securing the end proved somewhat trickier than he had expected.

Cecily stood. “Here. I can help you now that you’ve started.”

“You needn’t⁠—”

“I’m quite recovered.” She stepped to his side, and Nash did not miss the way she positioned her back to the dressing table where the discarded bandage and the washbasin sat. When she took hold of his hand, the sensation of her soft skin on his sent a strange—and now somewhat familiar—longing through him. She secured the first linen strip and began wrapping a second. “Is this tight enough?”

Nash nodded, unable to speak the confirmation.

She glanced up at him, and again, he found he was watching her. Gawking more like. But before he could glance away, she returned her focus to the dressing of his hand. What was the matter with him?

“How did your meeting with Mr. Steele go last night?” she asked.

“He offered me a partnership in his shipping company. If I agree to join him, he will guarantee payment for my investors’ original funds.”

Her gaze flicked to him. “And if you do not?”

“If my ship has truly run aground, as Johnathan’s contacts have all but confirmed, my investors will not only lose the profits they’ve been expecting, but the maritime insurance will likely only repay a portion of their original investments. A sum that will take considerable time to collect.” He shook his head. “I cannot bear the idea of anyone losing money on my account, particularly when they are clients of my father’s bank. I would hate for it to affect their future dealings with him.”

“But …?” she said, encouraging him to go on as she continued to wrap his hand.

“But Lord Blackstone, the gentleman I went to speak with last night, has heard nothing about my ship. Not even a whisper. He is an odd man, to be sure, which makes me hesitant to rely on what he says, but so many others seem to hold his word as an absolute, my father among them. And he did seem to be extremely well informed.” He released an unintentional sigh. “I can’t help but wonder if I’m being willfully blind to the truth because I don’t want to work for Johnathan. I would have no autonomy. Very little say in the business.”

He paused, his heart pounding at the reason that sat on the tip of his tongue. “I would remain in India indefinitely.”

Her hands stilled, but she kept her gaze down. “Was that not already the plan?” Was there a slight waver in her voice, or was Nash simply imagining there was?

“No. One of my driving motivations for starting a shipping company is that, hopefully sooner rather than later, I can return to England. I want to be near my family.” He yearned for Cecily to look up at him so she could see the truth in his eyes, but she did not. “I want to start my own family here.”

Her fingers moved in a sudden burst of motion, and she hastily secured the next linen strip in place and grabbed another. “Well …” She gave a small clearing of her throat. “I’m certain if it were up to your parents, they would much prefer to lose a portion of their original investment than have you forever an ocean away from them, especially if you are to be dissatisfied with your position there.”

Cecily had always been the practical sort, and he did not doubt she was correct in her reasoning. His parents would wish for him to return to England eventually, despite the personal cost. And, although he was likely putting more stock into her reaction than he should, he wondered if Cecily might want him here too. “So, if you were me, you would not accept the offer?”

She gave a small shrug. “With how little I know of your situation, I would not dare voice my opinion.”

He waited in the silence, certain she had more she wished to say.