Page 25 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess (Marriage Mart Scandals #3)

It wasn’t until the morning sunlight began to stream through the window that Patrina realized the whole night had gone by.

The constable and his men had been busy. Mr. Blackburn had been caught easily – he was in the process of climbing into his carriage to drive home when they found him – and Thomasin had stayed where she was, weeping quietly in the corner of the room. She had since been removed to the barred prison-cart waiting outside.

Clayton had run away, pursued by Harry and a couple of other men. He was brought back, bound and raging, denying everything.

His denials would do him no good.

Patrina was curled up on the bed beside Neil, who’d slept solidly since he first drifted off. His face was still pale, and his breathing was shallow and raspy. Patrina thought worriedly about what Agatha had said.

Please don’t let it be too late.

Cynthia stood in the corner of the room beside Mr. Stilton.

The new physician had come a long way and had arrived barely smothering his yawns. However, he had perked up upon being introduced to Cynthia. He was a younger physician than Patrina had imagined, with a round, handsome face, large brown eyes, and thick fair hair.

“I know this herb,” he said, holding up a sample of it for all to see. “As Miss Simms mentioned, it tends to cause fits and other neurological issues. A crop of the stuff grows in the forests of my parish, and occasionally some poor child or bad forager will eat a little of it, and subsequently get ill. It’s a clever poison to use, in fact – it’s generally not considered too deadly, and so takes a while to kill. I must admit, I am impressed.”

Cynthia beamed up at him. Patrina sighed.

“I’m glad you’re impressed, but I must remind you that my husband was very nearly killed with the stuff.”

Mr. Stilton flushed. “Of course, of course.”

“But he’ll recover, won’t he?” Cynthia interjected. “Agatha thought… well, she thought it seemed promising.”

Mr. Stilton glanced over at Agatha and smiled wryly. “Miss Simms is a clever woman. Indeed, I’d say that he will recover. Time will tell, naturally. Lord Morendale was dangerously close to a lethal dose.”

Patrina shivered, closing her eyes.

I was so close to losing him.

Beside her, Neil stirred, eyes opening. She held her breath, waiting for him to glance her way.

His gaze was clear, not glazed or disoriented at all. She let out a sigh of relief.

“Patrina?” he murmured. “I… I must have dozed off.”

“You have slept all night, your lordship,” Mr. Stilton announced, striding over to him. “Rest is what’s needed now, I think.”

Neil nodded slowly, swallowing. “Might I have a cup of tea?”

“Of course!” Cynthia said at once. “I’ll fetch it for you.”

“And… and might I have a word in private with my wife?”

Mr. Stilton and Agatha nodded, following Cynthia out of the room. The door closed silently behind them, leaving the two alone.

There was a moment’s silence. Patrina waited patiently for Neil to speak.

“Where is everybody?” he murmured at last.

“Your mother is speaking with the constables. So is Harry. Lady Ashworth has business to attend to but insists on all of us staying here until you’re recovered enough to move.”

He nodded, swallowing. “And… and my cousin? My aunt?”

Patrina bit her lip.

“The constables have arrested the three of them. Thomasin has confessed to plotting your murder, and Mr. Blackburn confessed shortly after. Clayton refuses to speak with the constables, but it’s rather too late. His companions have implicated him. They will all three spend their lives in prison. Nobody speaks of the late Lord Morendale, however.”

Neil closed his eyes briefly. “I can imagine not. An attempted murder is extremely serious, but for the successful poisoning of a Marquess? They’d all three hang.”

Patrina shuddered at that. It wasn’t pleasant to think of anyone hanging, even Clayton Tidemore.

“It’s strange, but I don’t think my father would have wanted them to hang,” Neil murmured. “He was so fond of his brother. My uncle, you know. Aunt Thomasin’s husband and Clayton’s father. I wonder sometimes if there were things he could have done better, but he never deserved to die in that manner. Not at the hands of those he loved most. I miss him, you know. I miss him dreadfully.”

Patrina reached out to take his hand, squeezing it silently. He turned to look at her and smiled faintly.

“So, I might recover, then? It looks as though you won’t be a widow anytime soon. My apologies.”

Patrina tutted, shaking her head. “I don’t want to be a widow. I like you, Neil. I thought that was clear.”

“Well, you saved my life, it seems. Without you, well…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “Without you I might be dead by now, in fact.”

That was closer to the truth than Patrina cared to think about. She cleared her throat, swallowing hard.

“I… I think that your mother wished to speak to you, once you’re ready to talk. I believe she’s feeling guilty.”

Neil bit his lip. “She shouldn’t.”

“I know. Emma only wanted what was best for you. She believed she could trust Mr. Blackburn. I told her this, but… well, I think she’ll prefer to hear it from you.”

Neil glanced up at her, twining his fingers through hers. “I believe that she’ll like you a good deal better than before, after this.”

“I hope so. I like your family, Neil. They’ve all been so kind to me, in their way. Well, except for…” she trailed off, clearing her throat.

He tilted his head, gaze still fixed on her. Patrina felt warmth spread through her chest, her breath shortening. She couldn’t look away.

“You have beautiful eyes, you know,” she heard herself say. “Green-gold. Such a rare colour.”

A slow smile spread over Neil’s face. “And here I was, about to compliment you on your eyes. You’ve been a better wife than I deserved, Patrina. I… frankly, I believe I am in love with you.”

Her breath stopped in her throat. Patrina smiled wryly down at him, squeezing his hand.

“How convenient, because I believe that I am also in love with you, my dear, mad, Marquess.”