Page 20 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess (Marriage Mart Scandals #3)

The morning after the soiree dawned crisp and cold. Ice formed on the outside of the window, and a layer of frost covered the lawn. Patrina lay in bed on her side, staring out of the window, and tried to work out what, exactly, she was going to do.

Neil had made it clear. He did not intend to put his feelings above the “right” thing to do, which was to put distance between them.

Because I am going to die, and you are going to live, and I must think of your future as well as my end. Don’t you understand?

She squeezed her eyes closed, covering her face with her hands.

He is going to die. How will I bear it? I’ve only just begun to know him. It isn’t fair.

There would be no wake-up call for Patrina that morning. The soiree had gone on late into the night, even though she had retired early. She had lain awake for hours, listening to the sound of happy guests far below, and thinking endlessly.

There must be some way to save my marriage. Some way to reconcile.

But if he’s made up his mind to keep me at a distance, how can I change it?

It was about nine o’ clock by the time Patrina finally rose. Considering that the soiree had gone on until the early hours of the morning, she doubted that anybody else would be awake.

She didn’t ring for Lucy. Instead, she stood at the window and stared down onto the frost-dusted ground, still unable to find a solution.

At last, she turned away with a sigh and dressed quickly by herself. Her hair she left loose, flowing around her shoulders and down her back. She threw a shawl around herself and headed downstairs. To the music room.

Patrina closed her eyes as she played, letting her fingers dance over the keys. It was a simple melody, an old one, one that she couldn’t even remember the name of, and it soothed her more than any amount of thinking could manage.

As the last notes faded away, she heard a creaking sound by the door, and her eyes flew open.

“Neil?” she heard herself say, unable to suppress the hope in her voice. She turned, and her heart sank.

Clayton stood there. He leaned against the doorway, arms folded, a wry smile on his face. Patrina’s hope faded away, leaving a cold, empty feeling in its wake. Clayton unfolded his arms and strode into the room. She shrank back despite herself.

“Very pretty,” he said, standing entirely too close.

“Thank you,” she responded automatically. “I’m sorry, did I wake you? I thought the music room was far away enough from the bedchambers, so…”

“No, no, not at all. I’m an early riser, you see. May I?”

Before Patrina could say a word, Clayton sat down on the piano stool beside her. It was large enough for two – for a pair of players doing duets or something similar – but not comfortably so. Her immediate response was to leap to her feet, but something kept her frozen to the stool, only edging up to give him more space.

Clayton placed his hands on the keys and began to play, a loud and jaunty tune that Patrina did not recognize.

“I always liked the pianoforte,” he said, raising his voice over the music. “But gentlemen can’t be too occupied with such a thing. That was always the problem for me and Mother, you know. We aren’t quite rich enough to live the way noble folks are meant to live. And while Neil is generous, he has made it clear he has no intention of supporting my lifestyle. I do play cards a little too much, it must be confessed. I’m not rich enough for the debt I have. That is something that Neil said to me, once. No – not Neil, forgive me. His father, my esteemed uncle. The late Lord Morendale. He never much liked me, you know.”

Patrina cleared her throat. “I’m sorry to hear that. Of course, I never knew him.”

“Hm. Well, it hardly matters. My mother always thought that I would be Lord Morendale one day, and brought me up as such.”

The hairs on the back of Patrina’s neck began to lift. “But she must have known that Neil would take the title.”

“Indeed, I thought so. But my mother helped me see that if one has a destiny, one must seize it. And now, tragic though all this is, it seems like that position of Lord Morendale will be mine. I hope you’ll forgive my speaking so callously of Neil’s health,” he added in an off-handed sort of way. “I’ve never seen the point of being nice about these things.”

“I don’t believe that Neil’s condition is terminal,” Patrina heard herself saying. Clayton was not looking at her, his attention focused on the keys, but he was close enough that she could feel the warmth coming off his body. “I believe that we have not exhausted our options.”

Clayton played a wrong note, the sound jarring through Patrina’s body. He let his hands slide off the keys and turned to face her. The smile still hung on his face, like a jacket hanging in a wardrobe.

“Your optimism is most commendable,” Clayton said, the smile hovering. “We can only hope. But I worry about you , Patrina.”

She glanced sharply up at him. “About me?”

“Mm-hm. I saw you leave early last night, and I saw how distressed you seemed.”

Patrina bit her lip, glancing away. She remembered very little of her rush through the crowd the previous night. She must have been in quite a state – cold air coming off her in waves, her hem muddy and wet, her hair blowsy and dishevelled. She could faintly remember a few people trying to speak to her, but she’d only pushed past them, shaking her head. Her odd behaviour would certainly have been remarked upon.

She wondered if Neil had joined the party afterwards. Nobody had come up to Patrina’s room, and she wasn’t sure if she would have liked them to do so, or not.

Emma, of course, would have been busy making sure the party went smoothly. But what about Cynthia? Part of her had hoped, too, that Neil would come to find her, and they would talk things over and make everything all right again.

Childish, Patrina. Very childish.

“Neil did not return to the party, by the way,” Clayton said, almost as an afterthought. “I did not see him go, but at some point, I noticed that his chair was empty. That wretched steward was gone, and of course I gave him a good scolding when I saw him next. Cynthia took Neil up to his room, as it turned out. I think we ought to have cancelled the soiree after all, seeing as the Lord and Lady of the hour disappeared quite mysteriously. And yet, Lady Ashworth has invited us all to a dinner party. Foolish, I think.”

Patrina frowned, glancing up at him. “How did you know about that? Even I didn’t know about that.”

Clayton barely missed a beat. “I opened a letter addressed to Neil and you by accident. I do hope you’ll forgive me.”

By accident. A likely story.

Patrina carefully said nothing. She wished he would go. Without the sound of music filling the air, the room was deathly quiet, and entirely too still.

“You must miss London a great deal,” Clayton said, almost absently. As if it were an afterthought. “Nobody would blame you, you know, if you chose to return.”

Before Patrina was forced to reply, a figure appeared at the door. Lucy. Patrina bit back a sigh of relief, and leapt up from the piano stool.

“Ah, Lucy, there you are. Was there anything else you wanted to discuss, Clayton?”

The man’s eyes narrowed, just for an instant, but he rose gracefully, making her a neat bow.

“Nothing, I think. Good day to you, my dear cousin-in-law.”

He left the room immediately, pushing rudely past Lucy as he did so. Patrina bit her lip hard, swallowing back a sharp retort.

“I didn’t know you wanted me, your ladyship,” Lucy said carefully. “You didn’t ring the bell, and when I came to your room, I couldn’t find you. I’m sorry if you were looking for me.”

Patrina shook her head. “I wasn’t. I… I was just glad to see you.” She retreated to the padded window seat and gestured for Lucy to sit down beside her. “Tell me, what do you think of Lord Clayton Tidemore?”

Lucy’s expression tightened. “I don’t like him, your ladyship. I know he’s your relative, and Lord Morendale’s cousin, but I don’t like him. I’m sorry if that offends you.”

“It doesn’t. I find myself disliking him as well, though I cannot quite articulate the reason for my sentiments. He… he keeps encouraging me to go back to London. I believe that he and his mother are trying to cause a breach between Neil and me. Do you think I’m being foolish?”

Lucy thought for a long moment. “They’re a strange pair,” she said at last. “The other servants don’t care for them, not one bit. It’s odd, sometimes – they’ll say that a servant might walk into the room where Lord Tidemore and his mother are having a conversation, and they’ll stop abruptly, and look frankly rather shifty. Perhaps it’s just our imagination. But I’ve seen both of them watching you , your ladyship, and I’ve not liked what I saw in their eyes.”

Patrina swallowed hard. This was not particularly encouraging, but nothing that she hadn’t already considered herself.

“They might not need to try to create a breach between us,” Patrina found herself saying, voice wobbling.

Lucy’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Oh, your ladyship, don’t tell me that things are bad between you and Lord Morendale. Are you going back to London?”

“No, no, it’s more complicated than that.”

Patrina drew in a breath, and then everything came out. The conversation she’d shared with Neil, the things he’d said, all of it. Lucy listened quietly, her expression softening.

“Oh, your ladyship,” she murmured, when Patrina had finished. “What a lamentable situation.”

“I had thought as much," Patrina sighed. "He… he all but confessed his affections for me. I desire him to hold me in such regard. I… I believe I am fond of him in return. Is that not a commendable sentiment? We are, after all, wed! And yet he seems to think that maintaining some distance would spare me heartache. Last night, I was too fatigued to contest his reasoning. My head throbbed painfully, and he appeared… he appeared so distant. I yielded to his wishes, and perhaps I ought not to have acquiesced. Oh, mayhap Clayton is correct. Perhaps I should return to London.”

Lucy pursed her lips. “You can’t leave him to his mother and aunt. You just can’t. Lord Tidemore is not a man to be trusted. He threatened Harry, you know.”

Patrina sucked in a breath. “He threatened him?”

“Yes. Harry was shaken. He’s afraid of Lord Tidemore, I can tell, but he worries too much about Lord Morendale’s health. He thinks that if he tells him the truth, he might make his lordship more ill. I advised him to talk to Lord Morendale about it, but I don’t know if he will.”

Patrina considered this, chewing on her lower lip. It was clear, of course, that Clayton disliked Harry. At first, Patrina had assumed that it was mere snobbishness. She assumed that he didn’t like having a poor relation, a steward, spending time with them. But now she began to wonder whether there was more involved.

Could it be Harry and Neil’s relationship he was jealous of? After all, the two men were very close, and Neil trusted Harry with his very life.

If a man wanted to put a breach between a person and their friends and family, how would he go about it?

And more to the point, why ? What benefit could Clayton have to estranging Neil from those who would support him? It won’t get him the position of Marquess any faster, will it?

Patrina’s head was aching again. She pinched the bridge of her nose, breathing in deeply and trying to calm her thoughts.

“There’s so much to consider,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I don’t know what to do , Lucy. Do you know, this is the first time I’ve truly been by myself? I’ve always had my mother to support me, or my sisters, or somebody to take the responsibility and make the decisions if I could not do so myself. And now it’s only me, and I have no idea what to do next.”

Lucy leaned forward, taking Patrina’s hand. “Can I give you some advice, your ladyship?”

“I’d welcome it.”

“Good. Well, I think you should concentrate on the basics. On what really matters. On who really matters. In my opinion, it all comes down to his lordship. To Lord Morendale. You are fond of him, I can see it, and he’s plainly fond of you. Why not try to speak to him? Don’t give up, your ladyship. Please don’t give up. Below stairs, all the servants like you. They want to see you and his lordship fall in love properly . They say that he’s a man with walls put up, and I’m not sure what that means.”

“I think perhaps I do,” Patrina murmured. “You’re right, Lucy. I…I’ll talk to him. Today, even.”

“I’m glad.”

“But enough about me. You haven’t even told me about when you had a chance to speak to Harry!”

Lucy flushed, glancing away with a half-hidden smile. “I like him very much, your ladyship.”

“He is a most admirable gentleman. Pray, do share your thoughts!”