Page 12 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess (Marriage Mart Scandals #3)

A thumping on the door woke Patrina up from a fitful sleep, and an odd dream which had been confusing and rather unsettling. She didn’t remember most of the dream, only that Neil was in it, as were her new in-laws, and she was playing the pianoforte. Except the keys did not seem to work. She would press a key, but the wrong note would come out of it. She had been frantically trying to work out how to play a particular song when all of the keys were in the wrong place just when the knocking jerked her awake.

For a moment, Patrina had no idea where she was or what was going on. She blinked around groggily, the events of the previous day creeping back into her memory.

“Who is it?” Patrina managed, knuckling one gritty eye and hoping that she sounded suitably marchioness-like.

“It’s me, your ladyship. Can I come in? It’s important.”

Lucy. Patrina smothered a yawn, sitting up properly. “Of course, come in.”

Lucy burst in, looking extremely flustered.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, your ladyship, really I am, it’s just that there are guests .”

Patrina blinked, sure that she must have misheard. The clock on the mantelpiece read the time as half past eight. Later than her usual hour, to be sure, but hardly late . And, of course, who would pay visits on a newly married couple, only a few days after the ceremony?

“Guests?” she echoed stupidly. “Why? It’s rude to call so early, especially since…”

“I don’t know who they are, but Lady Cynthia and Lady Tidemore are all in panic,” Lucy said, fluttering about the chamber with great fervour, pulling out linens and undergarments from their places and cast them upon the bed. “Lord Morendale doesn’t look very happy, either. They’re family , apparently.”

Patrina groaned aloud. “More family members. Already?”

“Lady Tidemore said that I should come and get you up and ready straight away, and come down for breakfast,” the maid said, shooting Patrina a sideways look. “I did say that you’d be tired after your journey yesterday, and Lady Tidemore did not look happy, but she said that she would explain everything when you came down, and she was sorry that you had to be disturbed. So, here I am.”

Patrina sighed, flinging back the covers.

“I’d better get ready, then. Which dress should I wear?”

Half an hour later, flustered and uncomfortable in a new, pearl-encrusted sage-green velvet gown, Patrina descended the stairs. Her heart thumped inside the tight bodice, anxiety rising.

She could hear voices drifting out of the front parlour, just at the bottom of the staircase. There was an unfamiliar male voice speaking, interspersed with the tinkling laughter of a woman.

Patrina paused, drawing in a breath, and trying to compose herself. Whoever they were, if Neil had let them in and allowed his mother to summon her down, they must be important.

I can do this.

Exhaling long and hard, she pushed open the door all the way and stepped inside.

A picturesque family tableau awaited her.

Lady Emma sat in the grandest chair nearest the fire, with an elegant woman sitting opposite. Patrina vaguely recognized the woman from the church.

Cynthia sat in the window seat, straight-backed and stiff, looking thoroughly uncomfortable.

Neil sat side by side with another man on the sofa, both of them leaping to their feet as soon as Patrina entered.

“This must be the new Lady Morendale,” the man exclaimed, bowing and extending a hand. “What a pleasure, what a pleasure. You have chosen a lovely creature, Neil.”

Neil did not smile. He said nothing, in fact.

Patrina gingerly took the man’s hand. She eyed him, trying to weigh him up, and strongly suspected that he was doing the same to her.

He was tall, well-built, and decidedly handsome, with enough similarities about his features and Neil’s to mark them out as close relations. He also had the same shockingly beautiful green eyes as Neil, although somehow Patrina felt that they did not suit this gentleman’s face the way they did Neil’s.

“I am Lord Clayton Tidemore,” the man said, the charming smile on his face never shifting a fraction. “This elegant creature here is my mother, Thomasin. You must call us Clayton and Thomasin, we insist. We are an informal family, and do not stand on ceremony. Isn’t that so, Neil?”

“Family is very important,” Neil said, an edge in his voice.

The older woman, Thomasin, got to her feet. She was even more beautiful than Patrina remembered from the church, although perhaps a little older in person. Her gown was magnificent, putting Patrina’s pearls and velvet to shame. Her eyes were cooler than her son’s, and her smile little more than a curl of the lips. She extended her hand – it was cold – and shook Patrina’s in a dutiful manner, then returned to her seat.

There was a painful moment of silence.

Lady Emma cleared her throat. “Patrina, dear, why don’t you invite the gentlemen to sit?”

Patrina blinked, baffled, before she remembered her duties as the lady of the house and gestured awkwardly for Neil and Clayton to sit back down again. She selected a stool for herself, and realized just a moment too late that she should probably have sat beside her husband.

An uncomfortable silence spread over the party. Patrina shifted, glancing from face to face. Something was going on here, something she had not been told. There was an undercurrent of animosity, written clearly in the faces of the haughty Thomasin, stiff Lady Emma, and poor Cynthia, huddled miserably in the corner. Neil’s face was unreadable, and Clayton was all charm.

He broke the silence first.

“Let me congratulate you on your nuptials, my dear cousin-in-law,” he said, throwing a jovial smile at Patrina. “Rather a hurried affair, was it not? I was out of the county, you see, on business, and could not return quickly enough to attend the wedding. My mother did, and so I was forced to hear it second hand. A great pity. I was just asking my cousin about it. As you can imagine, I was most disappointed. Why the rush, my dear? May I call you Patrina?”

“I think Lady Morendale might be more proper,” Neil answered stiffly, but Clayton only raised his eyebrows questioningly, waiting for Patrina’s reply.

She cleared her throat, feeling uncomfortable. “Patrina will do, I think. Since we’re family, and all.”

Clayton beamed. He had a very handsome smile, and despite not being attracted to him in the least, Patrina felt the strangest desire to make him smile again , to please him, to oblige him. She dreaded to think how his uncanny charisma and charm would work on a silly young woman who found him handsome.

“That’s the spirit!”

“As to the wedding,” Patrina continued, growing in confidence, “There simply seemed no point in waiting. I didn’t much want a large wedding, so…”

“Really? My mother mentioned that the church was quite full.”

Patrina paused, missing a beat. Clayton was still smiling at her, but there was something unfriendly in his eyes now.

He doesn’t like me, Patrina realised with a start. But why? What did I do? Have I said something, or missed out something? Have I offended him by omission? If so, why would he not simply tell me? He can’t know me well enough to dislike me.

The look in his eyes was gone a second later, and Patrina almost thought that she might have imagined it.

She had not imagined it, though.

“The church was full,” she conceded, “But few of them had been invited by us. I’m sure you know that there wasn’t even a wedding breakfast. We came straight here.”

Clayton waited a second or two, as if trying to lure her into saying more. Patrina kept silent, however, lips pressed together in an uncomfortable smile, and at last he gave up.

“Forgive my brusqueness,” he said at last, waving a hand. “I was disappointed to miss my cousin’s wedding, as I said. Still, it hardly matters now. I am glad Neil is married. We all here know about his delicate state of health, and…” he paused, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “You were aware, were you not, Patrina? Oh, Aunt Emma, do tell me she wasn’t…”

“Of course she knows,” Lady Emma interrupted shortly. “We were very clear on Neil’s health, before the betrothal was decided upon. Patrina knows what she is doing and intends to love Neil regardless.”

Love, of course, had not been mentioned at all, but Patrina understood why her mother-in-law would not like to bring this up in front of the cold, unfriendly eyes of her sister-in-law and nephew.

Before the silence could get too uncomfortable, the door opened and the butler entered.

“Ah, Smith,” Neil said, barely concealing his relief. “Can I assume that breakfast is ready?”

“Yes, your lordship. In the dining room, with extra places laid.”

“Very good,” Neil glanced over at Patrina, catching her eye. “Shall we go through, my dear?”

Patrina missed a beat before she understood. As Lady Morendale, as Neil’s wife and the lady of the house, she outranked every other woman present. She would lead the way to and from the rooms in the house, hand in hand with Neil.

A shiver went through her.

I’ll get used to it.

They all rose to their feet, and Neil held out a hand. Patrina hesitated only a moment before taking it, but she was sure that Clayton and Thomasin’s sharp eyes would have picked up the pause.

It felt odd, taking Neil’s hand in hers. His skin was warm and smooth, and sent shivers up her arm which she could not quite interpret.

The two of them left the parlour, the rest falling into pairs behind them.

“I don’t think your cousin and aunt like me very much,” Patrina whispered to Neil, terrified of being overheard. “Have I done something to offend them? Because if I have…”

“You haven’t offended them,” Neil responded, while Patrina shot a quick glance over his shoulder. Clayton’s eyes were fixed on them, his mother’s arm looped casually through his. As soon as Patrina and Clayton’s eyes met, the man broke into a wide, friendly smile.

She didn’t return it. Perhaps she ought to have done. Either way, it was too late. Patrina turned to face the corridor ahead, winding along in their pilgrimage to the dining room.

“They don’t like me,” she repeated shortly. “Is it because I’m not rich enough? Does he think I’m too old? Not pretty enough? You are a handsome family, after all.”

Neil let out a small sigh. “He was always going to hate my wife, no matter how rich or beautiful she was. Look, I had better just tell you and get it over with.”

The hairs on the back of Patrina’s neck prickled. “Oh, dear, this can’t be good.”

“Firstly, I shan’t insult your intelligence by understating how serious my health condition is. You know that my father died within a year or two of exhibiting the same symptoms which plague me.”

Neil said it all in a rush, without inflection, as if he didn’t much care about the words coming out of his mouth. As if he couldn’t care less about his death sentence.

She cleared her throat. “Indeed, I know that. And it’s terrible, but I don’t think you should give up hope just yet. I think…”

“I’ve heard all of this, my dear, please don’t bore me. My point is, I am on borrowed time. And should I die, the estate and title are entailed to the next male heir in line.”

Patrina sucked in a breath, understanding dawning. She felt like a fool for not seeing it before.

“And Clayton is the next in line.”

“Precisely. Unless, of course, you and I produce a child. A male child, specifically. So I’m sure you can see why he does not like you. He views you as a threat, plain and simple.”

Patrina nibbled her lower lip. She was doing that entirely too much these days, and the skin was drying out, becoming flaky. Her mother had often scolded her for the ‘ugly habit’.

“He didn’t want you to marry,” she concluded.

Neil nodded. “He certainly did not. He never voiced his thoughts, of course. It’s not his place, but we’d be a fool not to see through him. He’s my cousin, and I love him, and I’m sure that deep down, he loves me too, but he’s always had his eye on Morendale. And with my illness, I suppose he’s started to look on it of late as his own. But it isn’t,” Neil added, with something like venom creeping into his voice. “He’s going to have to learn that. Not if I can help it. I love my cousin, as I said, but I don’t believe that he could handle the estate. There’s a great deal of work involved, and if I know Clayton at all, he simply wouldn’t do it, and the place would fall to rack and ruin.”

He fell silent after this little speech, glancing down at Patrina. “I hope I haven’t scared you off with all of this.”

She glanced up at him, feeling something suspiciously like affection spreading through her chest.

“Of course not,” she heard herself say. “I’m sure you never could.”

And then they were at the dining room door, and all private conversation ceased. They all filed inside, finding seats and exclaiming at the spread of food. Patrina felt Clayton’s and Thomasin’s eyes on her more than once.

Just as they were partaking of their morning repast, Patrina saw Clayton shoot his mother a pointed, meaningful look. At once, Thomasin sat upright and cleared her throat for attention.

“Emma, Neil, I was thinking that perhaps we should spend some time together as a family. On account of the new marriage, of course,” she said, her voice just a little too thin.

Emma eyed her warily. “I’m sure that would be pleasant. What did you have in mind?”

Thomasin smiled. “I thought Clayton and I could stay for a week or two.”

Patrina’s heart sank. She glanced over at Neil, whose face was carefully impassive. Politeness dictated that only one response was acceptable.

“Of course,” Neil said, voice smooth. “That would be delightful. Wouldn’t it, Patrina?”

“Oh, indeed,” Patrina lied.