Page 28 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess
And yet, she does.
Neil swallowed back a rush of guilt. What right had he to force a young woman into marriage with a man like him? Not that itwasforced marriage, of course – she’d entered into the union of her own free will. Still, it could not be described as a match of love, or even a marriage of friendship.
They didn’t even know each other. And perhaps Patrina would like to keep it that way.
Neil glanced over at Harry, who was eyeing him anxiously.
“I haven’t offended you, have I?”
“Offended me? No, of course not. The carriages seem in decent enough condition to me, what do you think? We should be home before luncheon.”
Harry chuckled, still eyeing his cousin. “I think so. You must be hungry, Neil. You barely ate anything at all last night.”
“Not particularly. I don’t have an appetite like I used to. You know how that wretched medicine of Mr. Blackburn’s makes me sick.”
Neil paused, remembering his father’s emaciated frame and all the vomiting. He shuddered.
“Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to ask him if he has other treatments I could try. Iamgoing to go mad and die, with or without this medication, so why not experiment with other things? Perhaps he has some ideas. I shall ask him when we get home.”
Harry nodded eagerly. “That’s the attitude, Neil. We shall confront this matter with united resolve. Might it be prudent to confide in Patrina regarding our predicament? Lady Emma is a fine woman, of course, but she trusts Mr. Blackburn a little too implicitly to ever question him.”
Neil smiled wryly, completing one more circuit of the carriages. He felt uplifted, invigorated, and well-reposed for the first time in a considerable period.
“You’re right, Harry, I think I will. And do you know what? I think I have an appetite for breakfast, after all.”
***
At around nine o’ clock, the travellers hustled themselves out of the inn, waved off the innkeeper and his wife, and climbed into the carriages again.
Neil felt faintly nauseous from the greasy bacon they had been served for breakfast, but otherwise seemed just as well as before. Despite Harry’s fair and practical comments, hedidfeelas though things were looking up. And why shouldn’t they? He’d been so, so careful. He’d eaten well, drank alcohol rarely if ever, exercised as much as he could, slept well, and generally tried to keep himself healthy. Up until recently, he had taken Mr. Blackburn’s remedies and tinctures religiously.
Could it be that his hard work had paid off? Could it be that he was going to defeat this awful illness, the one that had taken down his father?
Careful, lad,he chided himself.Don’t get your hopes up.
Today, he found himself sitting directly opposite his wife again, who was smothering a yawn.
“Sleep well?” he asked.
Patrina smiled faintly. “Not particularly. I must confess to being a little nervous. I thought I would have seen my new home last night, and waiting has only made me more on edge.”
“Oh, you’ll love it,” Cynthia burst out, beaming. “Morendale Manor is lovely. I missed the place terribly when I was at Bath. Have you ever been?”
The two women started talking about Bath, its merits and its less-than-lovely points, and Neil found himself on the outside of the conversation once again.
This happened more and more these days. He knew that his reputation as a madman did not do him any favours, but sometimes people acted as if he were already a gibbering wreck, and treated him accordingly.
He had heard, from Harry, that it was a thing of wonder amongst the local Society that Neil’s servants were not leaving their posts in droves. He thought that, at least, should show the world that he wasn’t a cruel, murderous maniac. But no, apparently not.
“When we get home,” Cynthia was saying now, “I shall give you the grand tour, Patrina. Are you fond of music?”
Patrina’s face lit up. Neil found his gaze drawn to her at once and discovered that he could not look away. There was something compelling about her features, which he’d considered pretty from the beginning, but now they were positively luminous.
“Oh! I adore music. I can play the pianoforte, of course, and the harp, and the violin. I sing a little, although notverywell.”
Cynthia beamed. “Well, you shall love our music room. It is huge, and has all the instruments in it you can think of. We have all the latest music, of course, and in fact…”
She babbled on and on about fashionable music and the latest parlour-tunes. Neil watched Patrina’s excitement build. It was clear that she was very knowledgeable about music, and even as she listened to Cynthia, her fingers twitched as if already playing an imaginary piano.
