Page 46 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess
The world still spun, and Neil slumped down, sitting on the damp, muddy ground. He could feel cold wetness soaking through his riding breeches. His boots, so recently shined and cleaned, were scuffed and scraped, and he did not remember scraping them. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose.
Harry crouched down beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder. He was talking, voice low and reassuring, but Neil could not make out any of the words.
Clayton stood nearby, expression impassive, looking down at Neil.
“Should I go for help?” he said at last.
Neil’s head was spinning too fast for him to answer. He was afraid, as usual, that he would vomit and humiliate himself further. Suddenly, he wanted Clayton to go, so that any humiliation Neil might experience would not be witnessed by his cousin.
“Yes, I think that might be best,” Harry said, obviously trying to inject as much authority into his voice as he could. Clayton hesitated, eyeing Neil.
Go on, then,Neil thought, clenching his jaw.Don’t insist on hearing it fromme. Just do as Harry tells you, can’t you?
Clayton didn’t move, and Neil managed to nod his head twice. It made his head start to ache, the pain so bad that he squeezed his eyes closed.
I am dying,Neil realized, and the knowledge didn’t bring too much despair with it. It might be a relief, after all.
Clayton climbed back up on his horse without another word and rode away, leaving Neil in his own private world of pain and misery.
