Page 37 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess
Chapter Twelve
A thumping on the door woke Patrina up from a fitful sleep, and an odd dream which had been confusing and rather unsettling. She didn’t remember most of the dream, only that Neil was in it, as were her new in-laws, and she was playing the pianoforte. Except the keys did not seem to work. She would press a key, but the wrong note would come out of it. She had been frantically trying to work out how to play a particular song when all of the keys were in the wrong place just when the knocking jerked her awake.
For a moment, Patrina had no idea where she was or what was going on. She blinked around groggily, the events of the previous day creeping back into her memory.
“Who is it?” Patrina managed, knuckling one gritty eye and hoping that she sounded suitably marchioness-like.
“It’s me, your ladyship. Can I come in? It’s important.”
Lucy. Patrina smothered a yawn, sitting up properly. “Of course, come in.”
Lucy burst in, looking extremely flustered.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, your ladyship, really I am, it’s just that there areguests.”
Patrina blinked, sure that she must have misheard. The clock on the mantelpiece read the time as half past eight. Later than her usual hour, to be sure, but hardlylate. And, of course, who would pay visits on a newly married couple, only a few days after the ceremony?
“Guests?” she echoed stupidly. “Why? It’s rude to call so early, especially since…”
“I don’t know who they are, but Lady Cynthia and Lady Tidemore are all in panic,” Lucy said, fluttering aboutthe chamber with great fervour, pulling out linens and undergarments from their places and cast them upon the bed. “Lord Morendale doesn’t look very happy, either. They’refamily, apparently.”
Patrina groaned aloud. “More family members. Already?”
“Lady Tidemore said that I should come and get you up and ready straight away, and come down for breakfast,” the maid said, shooting Patrina a sideways look. “I did say that you’d be tired after your journey yesterday, and Lady Tidemore didnotlook happy, but she said that she would explain everything when you came down, and she was sorry that you had to be disturbed. So, here I am.”
Patrina sighed, flinging back the covers.
“I’d better get ready, then. Which dress should I wear?”
Half an hour later, flustered and uncomfortable in a new, pearl-encrusted sage-green velvet gown, Patrina descended the stairs. Her heart thumped inside the tight bodice, anxiety rising.
She could hear voices drifting out of the front parlour, just at the bottom of the staircase. There was an unfamiliar male voice speaking, interspersed with the tinkling laughter of a woman.
Patrina paused, drawing in a breath, and trying to compose herself. Whoever they were, if Neil had let them in and allowed his mother to summon her down, they must be important.
I can do this.
Exhaling long and hard, she pushed open the door all the way and stepped inside.
A picturesque family tableau awaited her.
Lady Emma sat in the grandest chair nearest the fire, with an elegant woman sitting opposite. Patrina vaguely recognized the woman from the church.
Cynthia sat in the window seat, straight-backed and stiff, looking thoroughly uncomfortable.
Neil sat side by side with another man on the sofa, both of them leaping to their feet as soon as Patrina entered.
“This must be the new Lady Morendale,” the man exclaimed, bowing and extending a hand. “What a pleasure, what a pleasure. You have chosen a lovely creature, Neil.”
Neil did not smile. He said nothing, in fact.
Patrina gingerly took the man’s hand. She eyed him, trying to weigh him up, and strongly suspected that he was doing the same to her.
He was tall, well-built, and decidedly handsome, with enough similarities about his features and Neil’s to mark them out as close relations. He also had the same shockingly beautiful green eyes as Neil, although somehow Patrina felt that they did notsuitthis gentleman’s face the way they did Neil’s.
“I am Lord Clayton Tidemore,” the man said, the charming smile on his face never shifting a fraction. “This elegant creature here is my mother, Thomasin. You must call us Clayton and Thomasin, we insist. We are an informal family, and do not stand on ceremony. Isn’t that so, Neil?”
“Family is very important,” Neil said, an edge in his voice.
