Page 68 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lady Ashworth’s home was huge, almost as large as Morendale Manor. Despite Lady Ashworth preferring to dress herself in old-fashioned clothes, her house was entirely modern and up to date. Patrina fought not to gawk as she followed the others through vast, marble hallways, with exquisite artwork and even a few interestingly naked Greek statues, which Patrina tried not to stare at too intently.
“It’s a quiet dinner party, I hope you don’t mind,” Lady Ashworth said, speaking casually over her shoulder. “Just us, I mean Agatha and me, of course, along with a handful of close friends. I do prefer moreintimategatherings these days.”
“After that crush of soiree last night, I am relieved,” Emma said, walking alongside her friend.
Patrina wished that she had had the opportunity to talk to her mother-in-law about what Lucy had overheard in the parlour. Shehadspoken to Cynthia, who seemed baffled and rather confused about it all.
Of course, Lucy had not really heard anything incriminating. No doubt Clayton would easily explain away what had been said. Nothing could be proved. However, itdidworry Patrina to know that Clayton and Mr. Blackburnwerecolluding. She worried about Lucy’s safety, as well as her own.
And Neil’s, of course. I wish I knew more about what was happening.
Neil walked ahead of the party, close behind his mother and Lady Ashworth. Patrina knew that he had an attack earlier that day, and it was apparent in the way he limped along, clearly weak and drained. He had not spoken to Patrina very much.
Harry followed him closely, carrying a neat little leather bag which Patrina knew carried the herbal infusions prescribed by Mr. Blackburn, and a few of the drops, for emergencies.
Patrina did not want to think about anemergency, of her husband writhing and convulsing on the ground before an appalled audience, with nobody knowing what to do or how to react. She knew it humiliated him. She knew he lived in fear of people witnessing his fits and treating him like… well, like some sort of invalid. Or worse, a mad man.
Patrina shivered.I will be glad when this evening is over.
As if he could read her thoughts, an unpleasantly familiar figure fell into step beside her.
“I am not sure this evening will go well for Neil,” Clayton remarked idly. “My mother and I both attempted to talk him out of it, but he would not be moved. Perhaps if you had added your voice to ours, he might have listened.”
Patrina clenched her jaw. “And why would I do that?”
“For the benefit of your husband, of course.”
She gave a mirthless chuckle. “I am not sure itisto his benefit. After all, why should he live life shut away like an invalid? Lady Ashworth is, I believe, a close family friend, and she cares for him very much.”
Thomasin, trotting along behind her son, gave a tut, and shook her head at Patrina.
“My dear, you simply do not understand.”
Patrina stopped dead, turning to face them both.
“No, Thomasin. No, Clayton. It isyouwho do not understand,” She snapped. “Do you think I haven’t heard of your threats? To Harry, and to my own maid? Do you think I’m a fool, listening to you encourage me to leave my husband and go back to London?”
Clayton did look surprised, but only for a moment.
“You misunderstand, Patrina. We are only thinking of your good.”
“I misunderstand nothing,” she responded crisply, taking a step towards him. “You are thinking ofyour owngood, I think. Perhaps the time has come for your visit to end.”
Clayton and Thomasin exchanged quick, meaningful glances. Thomasin said nothing, but Clayton smiled sweetly and bowed.
“We shall talk later, I think. After you, Lady Morendale.”
With a jolt, she realized that the others had gone on ahead, leaving the three of them behind. Not wishing to be left alone with Clayton and his wretched mother, Patrina scuttled after the rest of the group.
The dining room was large and ornate, with a long table rather too big for the group sitting around it. There was genteel conversation whilst dinner was served, but Patrina found that she could not concentrate on anything.
Neil sat across the table from her, and she could tell at a glance that he was finding things difficult. His eyes were glazed, his expression tight, and sweat beaded on his forehead. His dinner partner was a portly elderly man, who seemed to be struggling to stay awake, and Agatha on the other side.
Patrina watched Agatha watching Neil, her expression tight and a little concerned.
The soup was served, and Neil barely had any. He did not even seem to have the strength to lift his spoon.
