Page 21 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess (Marriage Mart Scandals #3)

Neil eyed his own reflection sourly.

Don’t be a coward. Simply walk in there and speak to her. Be honest. Be truthful. Look her in the eyes and tell her how you feel.

He knew now that he’d said the wrong thing to Patrina the previous night, at the soiree. Or rather, not the wrong thing – his feelings were correct – but the unkind thing.

What right had he to decide what Patrina would do, or how much she took upon herself? His mother would never have accepted such a thing from his father.

Neil had spent most of the night thinking about that, lying deflated in his own bed, hearing the sound of merriment drifting up from the ballroom below. He felt like a child, sent to bed before he wished to go, and left to stew in his own dissatisfaction.

He wished he could talk matters over with Harry, but the steward was nowhere to be found. That was odd, as Harry generally visited Neil at breakfast, took their first meal of the day together and discussed what needed to be done.

Neil took one last dissatisfied look at his own reflection – he was too pale, with dark rings around his eyes, and seemed to be losing weight that he could not spare – and turned away, leaving his bedroom.

He knew where Patrina would be – the same place she had been all morning. The music room. He could hear the music drifting up, worming its way into his ears.

He paused outside the door. It was a familiar melody this time, Sonata in C. Neil leaned against the wall, listening. The music ended with a flourish, and there came the faint tap-tap of clapping hands.

“Well done, your ladyship! I think that one is my favourite.”

Lucy, Neil realized. Patrina was spending time with her maid. Well, that was no trouble. He would simply walk in and politely ask to speak to Patrina alone. And then he would tell her the words that had been on his mind, the little speeches he’d carefully rehearsed in his head.

It was the easiest thing in the world.

Just look her in the eyes and speak.

Not yet, of course. Patrina had begun to play another piece, and it would be rude to interrupt her. Neil closed his eyes and listened, letting the music wash him away.

I love her.

The thought was a sudden, powerful one, jolting him upright.

A dangerous thought.

If I love her, how can I possibly allow her feelings for me to deepen? She’ll lose me, soon enough. No, this is a mistake. What is the point of all this? Is it just to make myself feel better? How selfish.

Swallowing hard, he pushed himself away from the wall and stumbled away from the doorway. Inside, the music ceased, and he heard Patrina speak to her maid.

“Lucy, is there somebody out there?”

Suddenly terrified of being seen, Neil hurried forward, nearly tripping on his own feet in an attempt to get out of sight.

By the time Neil reached his study, his heart was pounding and he felt thoroughly ill. He knew a fit was coming even before his legs began to buckle. Cursing to himself, Neil slammed the door shut with his heel and immediately regretted it.

He did not manage to stumble across the room to where the bell pull hung, assuring him support within a matter of minutes. Instead, Neil crumbled onto the rug in front of the fire, and his vision blurred and faltered as he faded into unconsciousness.

“Neil? Neil! Oh, heavens. Neil, can you hear me? Send for the physician, quick as you can! I have no idea how long he’s been here.”

Neil cracked open one eye. His head was pounding, his mouth dry as a bone, and he wasn’t sure that any of his limbs would respond to him.

He was still lying on the rug in front of the fire. There was no indication of how much time had passed, although Neil was sure that the light streaming in through the window had changed.

Harry was leaning over him, face tight with anxiety. Behind him, Neil just caught a glimpse of one of the footmen hurrying away into the hall, no doubt to send for the physician.

“What time is it?” Neil mumbled, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. “How long have I been here?”

“I have no idea how long you’ve been here,” Harry responded grimly, “but it’s past luncheon now.”

Neil swallowed thickly. “Luncheon. I came up here after breakfast. You weren’t at breakfast, so I thought…”

“Oh, heavens. Neil, I am sorry. I wasn’t here, and now you’ve been lying here for hours. Here, let’s get you sitting up. How do you feel?”

“Awful,” Neil muttered, allowing himself to be manhandled into a sitting position. Harry crouched in front of him, eyeing him anxiously. “It’s getting worse, Harry. Much worse.”

Harry bit his lip, glancing away. “Yes, I think it is.”

He began to bank up the fire, furiously prodding at the dying embers until they glowed obediently. Neil was glad. He had gotten cold, lying prone on the rug, and it seemed that the chill had crept into his bones and would not let go.

For the first time, Neil looked at Harry properly, and began to frown.

Harry’s clothes were crumpled and dirty, with caked mud on the bottom of his trousers and on his boots. His hair was in great need of a brush, with a smudge of dirt on one cheek, and was that a… no. Surely not.

“Harry,” Neil ventured slowly, “Is that a black eye?”

Harry flushed, not meeting Neil’s eye. “I took a tumble from the carriage earlier. Nothing to worry about.”

Neil winced, leaning forward. “Come, now. You wouldn’t lie to your dying cousin, would you? Something is happening. It’s already odd that you weren’t around all morning. It isn’t like you.”

Harry closed his eyes. “I… I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Well, I was worried the instant I saw the state you were in. Come on, Harry. Tell me the truth. I’m concerned.”

“It’s Clayton.”

Anxiety rolled down Neil’s spine. “Clayton?”

Harry breathed out slowly. “He’s always unpleasant to me, you know that, but this visit, something has changed. He threatened me, in fact.”

“ Threatened you?”

“It’s gotten worse, I’m afraid. Clayton cornered me a day after his arrival, and in no uncertain terms told me that my poor work and various character flaws were only making your illness worse – on account of the anxiety – and that if I cared for you at all, I should give up my post and leave.”

Anger flared up inside Neil’s chest. “The wretch! How dare he?”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t believe him. I told him it was none of his concern and tried to avoid being alone with him after that.”

“Why… why didn’t you tell me?”

Harry looked a little guilty. “I was afraid you would worry too much. You are ill, Neil. I thought that any further distress might cause a downturn in your health. The only person who knows this story is Lucy, Lady Morendale’s maid. I told her not to speak of it, but she felt that I ought to tell you the truth. This morning, Clayton… Clayton came to my room. He was drunk, I think,” Harry swallowed, shaking his head. “He dragged me outside. Nobody was around, of course, and he’s larger and stronger than I am. That is how I got this bruise. He told me that I wasn’t needed, and since he would likely be Lord Morendale one day, he was dismissing me ahead of time. Then he threw me in a carriage, driven by a hired man, and instructed him to take me far away.”

“He kidnapped you? Oh, Harry, this is ridiculous.”

Harry shrugged. “I was able to escape a few miles down the road, and walked back. That’s why I wasn’t around this morning.”

They sat in silence for a few moments after that. Neil was seething, fairly boiling with anger.

“How dared he,” he muttered, after the pause had gone on long enough. “As things stand, Clayton will become Lord Morendale one day, unfortunate as that may be. He’s already acting like the house is his, and the title too, and I won’t allow it. He’s disrespected Lady Morendale enough, and now you. He’s overstepped.”

“Calm yourself, Neil,” Harry soothed. “The physician said you must stay calm and not get agitated.”

“That’s another thing,” Neil snapped. “Patrina does not believe that Mr. Blackburn truly cares about recovering my health.”

Harry blinked, surprised. “But why not? What benefit would there be to him to let you die?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Neil mumbled, pressing a hand over his eyes. “But Patrina is right – I should try different treatments. Mr. Blackburn is not the beginning and end of medical science. It’s entirely possible that there might be some treatment out there that might – I don’t wish to say cure me – but it might manage my symptoms a little better. Perhaps if Father had investigated further…” Neil swallowed hard, cutting off the end of that sentence. It did no good to imagine what might have happened if his father had lived.

Harry swallowed, nodding slowly. “If this is what you want, Neil, then of course I’ll support you. And so will Lady Morendale, I know that much.”

“As for Clayton – and Aunt Thomasin – something must be done. Immediately.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t wish to cause trouble, Neil.”

Neil snorted, pulling himself up a little straighter. His strength was returning, bit by bit. Soon he would be able to manage to sit on the armchair behind him, and soon after that, he would manage a few wobbly steps. All in all, he would be quite ready for the dinner party at Lady Ashworth’s that night. The woman would certainly not permit him to miss it.

“You aren’t causing trouble. Clayton is causing trouble by being so aggressive. I’ve made it plainly clear over the years that you are family, and my steward to boot, and that he should treat you with the due respect. It’s not a ludicrous request, and even if it were , he’s in my house.”

“Don’t distress yourself, please,” Harry said, reaching forward to lay a hand on Neil’s shoulder.

“I’m not distressing myself,” Neil answered firmly, elevating himself to sit upon the edge of the upholstered armchair. “But I am Lord Morendale, and enough is enough. If my aunt and cousin can’t respect my reasonable wishes, then they won’t stay under my roof any longer.”

Harry flinched, eyes widening. “Neil? What are you going to do?”

“What I should have done a long time ago,” Neil sighed, shaking his head. “We’re all going to Lady Ashworth’s tonight, and I’d better conserve my strength for that, but tomorrow morning, I will speak to Clayton and my aunt. I’m going to make it clear that they have overstepped the bounds. They’ll leave tomorrow, Harry. I’ve made up my mind. After that, I’ll visit other physicians in London and see what they make of my condition. No more hiding away in the countryside. I have reached my limit.”

There was a brief silence after this speech. In the quiet, Neil distinctly heard the creak of floorboards outside in the hall. His eyes widened, and he glanced at Harry. It was clear that Harry had heard it too. Pressing a finger to his lips, Harry got to his feet and crept to the door. He wrenched it open, peering out into the hallway.

When he turned back, there was confusion and a little uneasiness on his face.

“There’s nobody there,” Harry said, sighing. “Perhaps it was just the wind.”

“Perhaps,” Neil acknowledged, not able to shake the uneasiness.

Harry cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot. “And Lady Ashworth’s – you’re determined to still visit?”

“Yes,” Neil answered, steeling himself. “I want to live a normal life, Harry. What’s left of it, at least. Perhaps it’s too late to seek help for my condition, or perhaps there was never any help to be had. But I’ve made up my mind, now. I am going to live.”

Harry broke out in a smile. “I’m glad to hear that, Neil. Come, shall I help you up?”