Page 4 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess (Marriage Mart Scandals #3)

Nobody spoke as the footsteps approached. Neil sat straight-backed in his chair, wishing he were somewhere—anywhere but here.

What if she takes one look at me and refuses to marry me?

There was no time to worry, no time to let himself sink into despair. There was no time even to wonder whether he would have a fit now .

The door opened, and a young woman stepped into the room. Neil rose to his feet, of course. Lord Marshville, being her father, and Lady Marshville, being a woman and her mother, did not rise to their feet, leaving Neil shifting from foot to foot, feeling uncomfortable.

He recognized the girl from the trio hanging over the banister, of course. She was pretty, with strong features, golden hair, and blue eyes. Her face was perhaps more long than oval, her nose a bit too long, but really, what did that matter? It surprised him that she had not been popular in her earlier Seasons.

There was none of the fashionable, false demureness that ladies seemed to prefer these days. No, Miss Patrina Marshville looked people in the eye. She looked Neil in the eye, openly and unapologetically assessing.

He bowed hastily. “Miss Patrina Marshville. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you, Lord Morendale,” she said, voice firm and deep and not at all frightened. “Papa, Mama, what is this about?”

She knows what this is about, Neil thought, understanding dawning on him. He gestured for Miss Marshville to take his seat, but she shook her head, her gaze now fixed on her father.

Lord Marshville drew in a breath.

“Lord Morendale is looking for a wife,” he said at last, sounding rather feeble. “And he wishes to ask you, Patrina, to marry him. I have told him that, while he has our consent, he must secure yours, as well.”

Neil bit his lower lip, eyes fixed on Miss Marshville’s face. He waited for disgust, or horror, or contempt to streak across her features, but her expression remained stolidly blank.

She knew, he realized. They’ve discussed this. She’s already planned out her answer.

She turned to him, eyebrows raised questioningly, and Neil found that his tongue was heavy in his mouth.

I wish Harry were here, he thought miserably, for the dozenth time.

“My state of health is not good, Miss Marshville,” he heard himself saying. He forced himself to meet her eye. “I imagine you have heard the rumours.”

She inclined her head. “I have.”

“Well, it is true that my condition is a serious one. I have reason to believe that I will not live to see old age. I need to marry, and soon. A great many women of the ton would refuse me, I know that much. I can’t blame them. Who wants to be a widow a handful of years after marriage? Who wants to marry a man who is slowly going…” he bit off the end of that sentence just in time, but the silence in the room told him that he might as well have just spoken it aloud.

Who wants to marry a man who is slowly going mad?

“As I say,” Neil continued, voice wobbling a little, “I do not blame them. Still, it means that I am obliged to look for a bride in a less traditional way. Generally, you and I would meet at a party or a soiree during the Season. We’d talk, and dance, and repeat the process at a few parties in succession, until people started to notice.”

A half-smile tugged at the corner of Miss Marshville’s mouth. “I’m familiar with the process. Courtship is a series of rigid steps, I know, regardless of whether a pair have been engaged since infancy or not. It seems nonsensical at times, especially when you consider how many matches are simply marriages of convenience.”

Lady Marshville sucked in a breath. “Patrina! Mind your language.”

“I am only speaking the truth, Mama.”

“You will offend the Marquess.”

“I don’t mind,” Neil said at once. “I admire her frankness.”

She stared up at him, calculatingly, as if trying to work him out.

Appraising me with keen scrutiny, he thought abruptly. She is measuring my worth.

“Let me be frank in turn,” he continued, turning fully to face Miss Patrina. “If you marry me, you will become a Marchioness. I am a rich man, and you will be a rich woman. Your duties would only include – hopefully – providing an heir. I do not care that you don’t have a dowry. In fact, I am willing to provide dowries for your sisters…” there was an intake of breath of Lady Marshville at this, “… as well as buying out your father’s debts. Once we are married, you will have as much time as you need to settle into your new role. Once I am dead, you will be a wealthy widow, left to run my estates until our child can take over. Harry, my steward, will help you. You can trust him. I know that I am asking a great deal and a sacrifice from you, Miss Patrina, but I am also offering a great deal in return.”

There was a long, tense pause after this speech. Neil tried to stay calm and continue breathing, waiting for her to speak.

What if she says no? Would I ask the next sister? I won’t marry the youngest, she’s entirely too young. Mother has a list of ladies she thinks will suit me, but frankly, I don’t believe I can simply go from home to home, asking fathers and mothers if I might steal their daughters away to live in a madman’s house.

“If I marry you,” Patrina said slowly, half to herself, “you shall provide a dowry for my sisters?”

“Indeed, that is true.”

“And my father’s debts… you’d settle them too? Can you afford them?”

“Yes, I can,” Neil answered, without a second thought. He felt Lord Marshville’s eyes on him and threw him a grimace. “I apologise, but I did manage to find out the extent of your debts before I came here.”

Lord Marshville looked very old and tired all of a sudden. He threw up a hand in defeat, not meeting the eyes of his daughter or his wife.

“I have been a failure in many ways, it’s true,” he murmured. “I would be a fool to pretend otherwise.”

Lady Marshville came forward, wordlessly standing beside her husband and taking his hand in hers. A sudden pang rushed through Neil’s chest, and he was forced to look away.

What must it be like to love somebody like that? To know each other so well you feel like an extension of each other? To forgive all sorts of mistakes, to stick beside each other regardless?

What does it feel like?

It hardly matters. I won’t live long enough to experience it.

He swallowed hard, tearing his eyes away. He found that Miss Marshville was staring at her parents, too, but with a very different look in her eyes.

He saw love there.

She drew in a breath and turned to face him.

“The answer is yes, Lord Morendale. I shall marry you. You may set the date for whenever you like.”

***

Patrina held in the tears until she got up to her room that night. The sobs burst out the moment the door closed behind her, tears streaming thick and fast down her face.

Lucy, who was folding linens in the corner, hurried to embrace her.

“Oh, milady, don’t cry. Is it because of… of him?”

Patrina gulped back sobs, nodding. “I agreed to marry him. I had to, of course, but… oh, Lucy, what have I done? What if I hate him? What if he hates me ?”

She sank to the ground, and Lucy went with her, wrapping her arms tight around Patrina’s shoulder.

“I could have said no,” Patrina gulped. “Nobody would have pushed me to say otherwise. But then, what is the alternative? We’d be destitute and evicted from our home before Gillian could attract any suitor, and then we would all be ruined. He promised a dowry for Agnes and Gillian, Lucy! And he said he would pay off Papa’s debts. He even gave us an advance, some money to pay off the servants and to buy material for a wedding gown. Oh, that brings to mind, you ought to visit the housekeeper at once in the morning to collect your overdue wages, Lucy.”

Lucy sighed, smoothing back Patrina’s hair from her brow. “Oh, you poor thing. But maybe he won’t be so bad? Did he seem mad, or vulgar, or cruel?”

Patrina sniffed, shaking her head. “No. He was indeed quite handsome, I must say. Yet, he spoke openly of his situation. He remarked that he was living on borrowed time, in essence. He appeared rather resigned to his fate.”

“It’s sad, isn’t it, to think of a young, strong man fading away like that. But, Miss Patrina, you’ll be rich, won’t you? And once he’s gone, you’ll be a widow, free to do as you like.”

“A widow with a child, ideally,” Patrina sighed, sitting upright again. She rested her head against the door, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “He’s going to procure a special license. We shall be married at the end of next week. And then, once he’d said all that, he just walked out of the house and the carriage drove away. He didn’t even take tea with us.”

“What did Miss Agnes and Miss Gillian say?”

She shrugged. “Not a great deal. They don’t understand the situation we are in. Agnes would never have accepted him, because she doesn’t understand just how bad things are with Papa. And now, I suppose, she’ll never have to know.”

“You saved them, milady. You saved them all. And it might be fun to be a Marchioness, don’t you think?”

Patrina rolled her eyes. “His mother lives in the house with him, and his sister. If there’s a pecking order, I have a feeling I shall be at the bottom of it.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes. “Now, that is not the Patrina Marshville I know. If I know anything about you, those ladies had better watch out, and that’s all I’m saying.”

Patrina had to chuckle at that. “I asked if I might bring you with me, Lucy, and he accepted. Would you like that? Would you like to come with me, when I’m the Marchioness?”

Lucy beamed. “I’d like nothing better, milady. Nothing better.”