Page 1 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess
Chapter One
Morendale Manor, Shortly Before Breakfast
The room spun, faster and faster. It reminded Neil of those wooden spinning tops he’d played with as a child. The inevitable spinning competitions he conducted with his cousins would always end up with somebody’s top spinning right off the table, or crashing into a wall, leaving the top dented, splintered, or even cracked. Ruined, irreparably so.
Nausea lurched inside him, and he clutched the edges of his desk. Closing his eyes seemed to make it all so much worse. His half-consumed cup of tea had been overturned at some juncture, the liquid accumulating upon the surface of the desk, cascading over the edge. His seat was only a few feet away, but it might as well have been a mile. He would certainly not be able to put one foot in front of the other, let alone limp over to his seat.
How long had he been there, swaying in place and trying desperately to make the world stop turning? A minute? Two? Hours, perhaps? There seemed to be no way of telling.
Neil was just considering that perhaps his inevitable fall would be less painful if he lowered himself to the ground ahead of time, when his balance gave out entirely.
Thud.
Somehow, it was better to get the fall over with. So far, Neil had not seriously hurt himself during his collapses, but there was always time. He was frankly amazed that he hadn’t broken a limb, or perhaps cracked his head open. Bruises and scrapes seemed strangely irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.
Odd details caught his attention as he lay there, like the scratch of the carpet against his cheek, and the angle of the pattern stretching away from his gaze.
So this is how I die, then. Lying on the floor of my study after a fit, quietly fading away as the hours tick by.
Still a better death than Father had.
About five or ten minutes ticked by, although it was of course hard to keep track. He was facing away from the door, and so only heard the creak of the door opening and the muffled gasp from whoever stood there.
“Neil!”
Neil made a noise that was supposed to be a call for help, but only came out as a defeated grunt.
In a few seconds, strong hands gripped his upper arms and hauled him up into a sitting position. He would have slumped right back onto the carpet again if he hadn’t been carefully supported by his saviour.
Blinking hard through his double vision, Neil managed to focus on the drawn, worried face of his cousin.
“Harry,” Neil managed, through numb lips. “I fell over.”
“Yes, I can see that. Come, let me assist you to your feet. I shall summon the physician forthwith and…”
“No physicians. You know why. Only Mr. Blackburn. He’s the only physician we can trust.”
Harry pressed his lips together in a thin line of disapproval but said nothing. Neil was fairly certain the man would not go behind his back about this. His cousin might not like Mr. Blackburn – who was, admittedly, a snob – but there were good reasons why the family physician was the only one who could be consulted in this matter. And even then, Neil knew what the man would say.More drops, Lord Morendale. Just take more drops. As many as you need, as often as you need them. They’re quite safe.
He allowed himself to be manoeuvred up until he was sitting in a wide-armed chair placed behind his desk, high-backed and sturdy.
The worst of the dizziness had almost gone, but the nausea remained. The attacks were never very long, but according to his own records, they were getting longer. And more frequent. He had tried his best to find a pattern, to try and predict when the fits might occur, but to no avail. He had already stopped attending parties and paying visits, in case a fit should happen in public. That would be too much humiliation to stand.
Harry stood back, hands on his hips, and surveyed Neil with a frown.
“You look awful.”
Neil tipped back his head. “Thanks, old friend. I feel much better after hearing your kind words.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel better. Thank heavens I came up when I did. You might have lain there for hours and not gotten up. You shouldn’t spend so much time alone, Neil.”
Neil bit his lip and said nothing. It was true the assaults rendered him as feeble as a newborn kitten.
He glanced at the clock, intending to record the length of this most recent attack of disorientation, but it was no good. He’d allowed himself to become immersed in his work and had not been keeping an eye on the time.
A simpleton, Neil, just a fool. Didn’t you already promise yourself not to make the same mistakes as Father?
“It’s almost time for breakfast,” Harry added, a trifle unnecessarily. “I’ll tell them you aren’t coming down.”
