Page 31 of An Arranged Marriage with a Mad Marquess
The idea of taking charge of a large, complicated house like this one made Patrina shiver.
“Of course,” she said aloud, trying to sound confident. “But I am sure everything is just as it should be, Mrs. Black. I shan’t disrespect your years of experience insisting that you change the way you do things.”
Mrs. Black blinked, as if taken aback. Just for an instant, her eyes flicked over Patrina’s shoulder to where Lady Emma stood.
Then her composure was back, and she made a neat little curtsey.
“As you please, Lady Morendale. Tea has been laid on in the blue parlour. That is, the front parlour. It is the one that Lady Tidemore prefers.”
Lady Tidemore was, of course, Lady Emma. They were going to Lady Emma’s parlour.
Patrina kept the smile on her face. “Naturally. Lead the way, Mrs. Black, please.”
As they passed through the large, arched doorway, she heard the butler take Neil aside and murmur in his eye.
“Mr. Blackburn is waiting for you in the study, your lordship.”
***
Neil was a little shocked to notice a frisson of nerves as he approached the study. Harry had some business to attend to, but Neil had already determined that his cousin would join them for dinner. Patrina seemed to like him, and he was sick and tired of his mother and sister turning up their nose at their cousin.
This is my house, after all.
Drawing in a breath and resisting the urge to tap at the door of his own study and wait, Neil pushed open the door.
Mr. Blackburn was a large man, well over six feet tall, and remarkably liberal. In his youth, Neil had considered the man rathersnobbish, strictly saving his skills for those who could afford to pay for his expertise.He boasted a pair of remarkably prominent black sideburns that dominated much of his visage. In recent times, these distinguished adornments had begun to fade to a silvery hue, yet the small, dark orbs above the striking features remained as keen as ever.
When he entered, Mr. Blackburn was standing before the fireplace, hands tucked behind his back. He had his head tipped back and was inspecting a large portrait hanging above the mantelpiece.
“It’s a good likeness,” the physician said, not turning around.
Neil knew what the portrait was, without needing to look up. It was one of his mother and father in their youth, straight-backed and serious and genteel.
“It’s one of my favourites,” Neil admitted, chest constricting.
“I recall that dear Lady Tidemore wished to have all likenesses of the late marquess taken down, did she not? A common symptom of grief. At the beginning, one does not wish to be reminded of what one has lost.”
Neil bit his lip. A tray of tea had been set out on the table, and he headed towards it, pouring himself a cup. He could see that Mr. Blackburn had already done so.
“We all grieve differently, I think,” he said, hoping to change the subject. He had already had battles enough with his mother over the portrait. These days, she was more amenable to likenesses of her husband hanging around the house. The black veil had recently been removed from the official portrait of the late Marquess which hung in the Great Hall with his ancestors.
“Just so, just so,” Mr. Blackburn turned slowly from the portrait, as if struggling to tear his eyes from it. “Well, Lord Morendale, how are you this fine afternoon?”
Neil had always had the impression that Mr. Blackburn did notreallylike calling himLord Morendale.After all, the physician had seen Neil grow up, watched him run around and misbehave, and then be punished accordingly. Perhaps in Mr. Blackburn’s eyes, only Neil’s father would ever beLord Morendale.
It rather felt as though Neil were constantly trying to gain the man’s respect. Which was, of course, exhausting.
“As a matter of fact, I feel excellent,” Neil answered, taking a seat by the fire. “I have a confession to make.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
Was that a hint of sarcasm in the physician’s voice? Neil frowned slightly and tried to ignore it.
“I have missed several doses of my medication, but the digestive issues we discussed earlier have gone altogether. Could the two things be connected?”
Mr. Blackburn pursed his lips. “To be sure, the medication I prescribed is a powerful one, and sickness is a common side effect. However, let us not lose sight of the reason it was prescribed. What of your fits?”
“That is my point. I haven’t had any,” Neil leaned forward, excited despite himself. “I know I shouldn’t have high expectations – Harry already scolded me for that – but isn’t there a chance Icouldrecover?”
