Page 64 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess
Neil swallowed thickly. “Luncheon. I came up here after breakfast. You weren’t at breakfast, so I thought…”
“Oh, heavens. Neil, I am sorry. I wasn’t here, and now you’ve been lying here for hours. Here, let’s get you sitting up. How do you feel?”
“Awful,” Neil muttered, allowing himself to be manhandled into a sitting position. Harry crouched in front of him, eyeing him anxiously. “It’s getting worse, Harry. Much worse.”
Harry bit his lip, glancing away. “Yes, I think it is.”
He began to bank up the fire, furiously prodding at the dying embers until they glowed obediently. Neil was glad. He had gotten cold, lying prone on the rug, and it seemed that the chill had crept into his bones and would not let go.
For the first time, Neil looked at Harry properly, and began to frown.
Harry’s clothes were crumpled and dirty, with caked mud on the bottom of his trousers and on his boots. His hair was in greatneed of a brush, with a smudge of dirt on one cheek, and was that a… no. Surely not.
“Harry,” Neil ventured slowly, “Is that a black eye?”
Harry flushed, not meeting Neil’s eye. “I took a tumble from the carriage earlier. Nothing to worry about.”
Neil winced, leaning forward. “Come, now. You wouldn’t lie to your dying cousin, would you? Something is happening. It’s already odd that you weren’t around all morning. It isn’t like you.”
Harry closed his eyes. “I… I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Well, I was worried the instant I saw the state you were in. Come on, Harry. Tell me the truth. I’m concerned.”
“It’s Clayton.”
Anxiety rolled down Neil’s spine. “Clayton?”
Harry breathed out slowly. “He’s always unpleasant to me, you know that, but this visit, something has changed. He threatened me, in fact.”
“Threatenedyou?”
“It’s gotten worse, I’m afraid. Clayton cornered me a day after his arrival, and in no uncertain terms told me that my poor work and various character flaws were only making your illness worse – on account of the anxiety – and that if I cared for you at all, I should give up my post and leave.”
Anger flared up inside Neil’s chest. “The wretch! How dare he?”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t believe him. I told him it was none of his concern and tried to avoid being alone with him after that.”
“Why… why didn’t you tell me?”
Harry looked a little guilty. “I was afraid you would worry too much. Youareill, Neil. I thought that any further distress might cause a downturn in your health. The only person who knows this story is Lucy, Lady Morendale’s maid. I told her not to speak of it, but she felt that I ought to tell you the truth. Thismorning, Clayton… Clayton came to my room. He was drunk, I think,” Harry swallowed, shaking his head. “He dragged me outside. Nobody was around, of course, and he’s larger and stronger than I am. That is how I got this bruise. He told me that I wasn’t needed, and since he would likely be Lord Morendale one day, he was dismissing me ahead of time. Then he threw me in a carriage, driven by a hired man, and instructed him to take me far away.”
“Hekidnappedyou? Oh, Harry, this is ridiculous.”
Harry shrugged. “I was able to escape a few miles down the road, and walked back. That’s why I wasn’t around this morning.”
They sat in silence for a few moments after that. Neil was seething, fairly boiling with anger.
“How dared he,” he muttered, after the pause had gone on long enough. “As things stand, Claytonwillbecome Lord Morendale one day, unfortunate as that may be. He’s already acting like the house is his, and the title too, and I won’t allow it. He’s disrespected Lady Morendale enough, and now you. He’s overstepped.”
“Calm yourself, Neil,” Harry soothed. “The physician said you must stay calm and not get agitated.”
“That’s another thing,” Neil snapped. “Patrina does not believe that Mr. Blackburn truly cares about recovering my health.”
Harry blinked, surprised. “But why not? What benefit would there be to him to let you die?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Neil mumbled, pressing a hand over his eyes. “But Patrina is right – I should try different treatments. Mr. Blackburn is not the beginning and end of medical science. It’s entirely possible that there might be some treatment out there that might – I don’t wish to saycureme – but it might manage my symptoms a little better. Perhaps ifFather had investigated further…” Neil swallowed hard, cutting off the end of that sentence. It did no good to imagine what might have happened if his father had lived.
Harry swallowed, nodding slowly. “If this is what you want, Neil, then of course I’ll support you. And so will Lady Morendale, I know that much.”
