Page 8 of A Match of Misfortune

“Not all stories end that way.”

“But some do. Whoever I marry will become Adelaide’s guardian when my father dies. Even if a suitor claimed he would allow her to live with us, he could change his mind at any point after we marry. Adelaide and I could not bear a life apart from one another. And if my husband were to die prematurely as happened to Mrs. Leetle’s sister, he could appoint a new guardian in his will, and I would have no say in it. Nor for her care. If, heaven forbid, Papa were to die, it would be better that I be unmarried and Mr. Markham could remain as our guardian. At least until Adelaide gains her majority.”

“But your father could put those stipulations in the marriage settlement so they could not be altered.” She said the words cautiously, as though she herself wanted to believe but didn’t fully.

“A marriage settlement is a protection that is difficult to enforce. Besides, what sort of gentleman would marry me with so many stipulations and restrictions on my dowry? My father would have to make compromises in the negotiation, and I fear those compromises would not be beneficial to Adelaide.”

Mrs. Markham gave a heavy nod. “As I said, I understand your reasons. I simply …” She exhaled. “I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

“I know you are. It’s only that marriage and motherhood have brought a measure of fulfillment to my life that I did not even realize I was missing. Some things are worth the risk.”

This was not one of those things. Not for Cecily. And certainly not for Adelaide. But hating to disappoint Mrs. Markham, Cecily gave a small smile. “I shall consider your counsel.”

“That is all I ask. I shall not say another word about it.” Mrs. Markham raised a hand to Cecily’s cheek. “And regardless of how this Season turns out, I am so pleased you are here.”

“As am I.”

With one last smile, Mrs. Markham took a step toward the door but then stopped again. “Oh, I must warn you. Jamison has formed a rather poor habit of climbing into bed with me or his father if he wakes in the middle of the night. As he knows you have arrived, I worry he might attempt the same with you. You may wish to lock your door.”

“I appreciate the warning.”

When Mrs. Markham bid her a goodnight, Cecily contemplated locking the door, but the thought of a disheartened Jamison was too much. Besides, it was disconcerting enough to be in Nash’s room; she had no desire to lock herself inside.

Cecily made quick work of readying herself for sleep, then retrieved the extra blankets and neared the bed with hesitant steps.

It was only a bed, like any other.

She pulled back the coverlet, then paused. It would make sense that Nash had likely taken the spot closest to the door, so to ease her mind some, she would take the opposite. She made her way to the other side. Satisfied with her decision, she spread out the extra blankets, snuffed out her candle, and slid beneath the covers. Perhaps it was the day of travel wearing on her, but the bed was surprisingly comfortable.

Now, if she could only keep her thoughts from drifting to Nash.

The last thing she needed was to invite dreams of the tiresome man. And yet, in the darkness, lying near where he had once lain, she had a very difficult time keeping memories of the vexing man at bay.

This was going to prove a very long night.

Chapter Three

Nash shifted impatiently on his seat as the hired carriage rumbled down the cobblestone road, the sound of its wheels echoing through the quiet, lamp-lit streets of London. The ship he had arrived on had reached the docks earlier than expected, and he’d accepted Johnathan Steele’s offer to drop him by his parents’ townhouse despite that it was now past midnight. When he’d last written home, he’d not only still been in India but had also planned to travel on a much slower ship. With his fortunate change of plans ensuring he would arrive before any new letter he could write, it would be a grand surprise indeed when his parents awoke to find him already home. How he yearned to see them both again. And meet his brothers. It had been far too long, but he was home now. At least for a few months.

“Where would you like me to have your trunks delivered?” Johnathan asked from the bench across from him.

“I expect to be in my new townhouse by midday.”

Johnathan’s shadowed gaze shifted to Nash. “Is the matter of your inheritance settled, then?”

“Nearly. The letter I received from my great-aunt’s solicitor not long before we left India said that, to my uncle’s chagrin, another will has not been discovered. So once I pay the probate fees, the Church Court in Dover will verify both the will and my role as executor. After that, I need only pay the death tax for the distributions to be made. It should all be settled within a month.”

“If the process is not complete, how are you to be in possession of your great-aunt’s Mayfair house by tomorrow at midday?”

Nash smiled. “Let’s just say that the solicitor is a man of logic and also sees no sense in delaying my occupancy at this point.”

Johnathan gave an amused hmph. “I’m not sure logic was as much in play as persuasion, but I’m not the least bit surprised. You are one very fortunate man.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Repeatedly and by many.