Page 47 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess
Chapter Fifteen
Patrina elbowed past the huddle of servants in the hallway, heart thudding. She wasn’t particularly surprised to see Neil there, being supported through the hall. Harry was on one side and one of the footmen on the other side. Clayton strode ahead of them, giving orders for the physician to be fetched at once. At once, he repeated, lifting a finger warningly.
Already acting like Lord Morendale,Patrina thought, with a rush of dislike. She turned to Lucy, who was hovering behind her.
“Can you find out what happened?”
Lucy paused, then nodded. “I can ask Harry. That is, Mr. Westbrook.” She flushed for some reason, and Patrina bit back a smile. She hadn’t missed her maid’s fancy for the steward. He seemed like a nice enough man and would be an excellent match for Lucy.
Assuming, of course, that theydidlike each other after all. It wasn’t really any of her business – Patrina had always thought it unfair to insist that servants should not have sweethearts.
“If you can find out, I would appreciate it. In the meantime, I’m going to try and talk to Neil. I’ll have a tea tray made up and I’ll take it to him, even if I have to elbow past all of his relatives to get to him.”
Lucy nodded. “I think that’s a fine idea, your ladyship. Just…” she hesitated, gathering her thoughts. “Just be careful.”
“Careful? What do you mean?”
Lucy shook her head. “I can’t say, only that I don’t like his lordship’s aunt and cousin. They don’t sit right with me, and I can’t say why.”
Patrina sighed. “I know what you mean. I find his aunt and cousin to be rather disconcerting.”
***
Tea tray in hand, Patrina strode along the corridor that led to Neil’s room, heart pounding. She wouldnotbe put off this time. No, not at all. ShewasLady Morendale, and she had a right to see her husband. Perhaps she would be more careful before talking aboutchangeand trying new things, but shewouldsee Neil. Shewouldlet him know that he mattered to her.
The hallway outside Neil’s room was deserted, but she could hear the murmur of voices coming from behind the closed door. She had never gone into Neil’s room, of course, and felt a frisson of nerves. With both hands occupied with the tea tray, Patrina was in the middle of wondering how she was going to knock when the door opened. She flinched backwards.
A large man stepped into the hallway, with a heavy face and a pair of impressive greying whiskers. He had black, sharp eyes set underneath heavy brows and peered at her over a pair of pince-nez balanced on the bridge of his nose.
“And who might you be?” he inquired, voice like gravel.
Patrina cleared her throat, straightening up. It was hard to look properly genteel when one had a tea-tray in one’s hands.
“I am Lady Morendale. Judging by your medical bag, I think I can assume that you are the doctor.”
He blinked slowly at her. “Mr. Blackburn, yes. The pleasure is mine, Lady Morendale.”
Liar, she thought, but she kept a rigid smile on her face. His gaze slid down to the tea-tray, and the silence stretched out between them.
“Lady Morendale, your servants have failed you greatly. A Marchioness does not carry her own tea-tray.”
She clenched her teeth. “I chose to bring this up myself.”
“Did you? Goodness. Times have changed a good deal from whenIwas young, in that case.”
“Indeed,” Patrina shot back. “I daresay they have.”
The physician shot a quick, disapproving look at her, and she could tell at once that he did not like her tone. Or her, most likely.
“In any case, how might I be of assistance to you, Lady Morendale? What service might I offer?”
She cleared her throat again. “I’m here to see my husband.”
“The Marquess is most unwell. I am afraid he cannot see anyone.”
“Is that so? Because I can distinctly hear voices in that room.”
The physician smiled benevolently at her. “Family, Lady Morendale. His mother, naturally, and his doting aunt. And Lord Tidemore, who has been most supportive.”
