To The Traitor in My Bed - Chapter 1
Note: This work was inspired by [The Scarlet Pimpernel] by Emmuska Orczy.
Chapter 1. My Husband Might Be
It all began with the gift of a horse from her brother, Dorian—an exquisite horse from Farslan.
With a beautiful dark chestnut mane and a white star-shaped marking on its forehead, the horse was named Fars. The exotic steed was wild and unruly as she had heard. The only way to tame such a creature was one way only.
Following what Dorian had once taught her, Deirdre attempted to mount the horse and immediately assert her dominance over it. It wasn’t exactly mounting. Rather, she managed to climb on, trying to maintain her composure.
As expected, Fars became more ferocious than she had anticipated. The horseman who was holding the reins, panicked and dropped them. Deirdre grabbed the reins tightly, but she was certain that the beast would soon toss her to the ground.
At that moment, her husband descended into the courtyard, talking to the butler.
Before long, he saw his wife, hanging from the neck of the unfamiliar horse. Deirdre expected him to call for his secretary, but her guess was wrong.
The alarmed man rushed forward and yanked the reins off Fars. Without allowing the horse or her a moment of surprise, he mounted the horse in one swift motion.
<Stay still!>
He shouted.
And just like that, Fars became as calm as if it had never resisted in the first place.
Deirdre couldn’t believe her eyes.
<Frederick, I thought you couldn’t ride a horse…>
Only then did the handsome and graceful man release the reins, looking slightly surprised—or perhaps a bit embarrassed. Fars remained still, as though it had become an armchair.
<I had to learn how to ride. Otherwise, how would I have graduated from the academy?>
Equestrian skills were essential for any nobleman in Antwerp, something even women sometimes learned as a matter of refinement. Deirdre, being a noblewoman, had acquired such skills to a respectable degree.
She vividly recalled the time when he had once refused to ride together saying that he had never ridden after a fall that broke his arm, insisting that he would only take the carriage from then on, but she said nothing.
The reason her husband, whom she had lived with for two years, suddenly seemed suspicious wasn’t due to that incident alone. However, his skillful handling of the horse, as if he was a Farslan horseman, was enough to fuel her doubts.
“…dy Rochepolie.”
It was only after Marchioness Campbell had called her twice that Deirdre finally came to her senses.
“Lady Rochepolie.”
“Yes, please go ahead.”
As Deirdre smiled, Marchioness Campbell asked,
“My, my, the Countess has lost herself in thought. What has captured your attention so completely?”
The Madam turned her head to look in the direction Deirdre was gazing.
There, of course, stood Count Fairchild. The richest man in the kingdom, the darling of the Swinton society, the owner of the vast Rochepolie Winter Forest, and the man with more than a handful of other titles, each one as dazzling as the jeweled buttons on his elegant vest.
That magnificent man was none other than Deirdre’s husband, Frederick Fairchild.
Marchioness Campbell’s eyes gleamed mischievously. She was a very lively and social person. Recently, she had successfully hosted the engagement of her eldest daughter, and Deirdre had been caught listening to the story.
She returned to the conversation.
“The wedding will be held in Landyke, right? When will it be?”
“Next June. You must come with your husband. Or perhaps I should just get a definite answer now?”
The Marchioness folded her feather fan and placed it at the corner of her right eye.
Recognizing this, Count Fairchild spoke to the men he was with and began to approach the two women. His height and slender figure made it impossible to miss his presence, even for a moment. Even the splint on his arm, which he had recently hurt when he foolishly got his arm caught in the carriage door, somehow looked impressive on him.
Taking this opportunity, a few men tried to approach the beautiful Countess, hoping to strike up a conversation.
By the time the young count reached the two noblewomen, a tight circle had formed around them.
“Did you call for me, Lady Landyke?”
Count Fairchild asked politely, his voice as smooth as the smile in his eyes.
When he spoke like that, it was rare for a woman not to fall for him. The Marchioness asked, shy like a girl.
“I’m sure you’ve heard about our Rosina’s engagement, haven’t you? I was just telling Lady Fairchild that she must attend the wedding.”
“I’ve just heard the news about the engagement. But who is the lucky man?”
“Oh, he’s the second son of the Cottenham family.”
The Cottenham family had long been known for producing high-ranking officers. Their strong royalist ties were well-known. Those who momentarily felt some distaste for this fact quickly concealed their feelings.
Count Fairchild was also a member of the royalist faction, but his wealth, beauty, fame, and, more precisely, the fact that half of the nobility in Swinton was indebted to the Count made it rare for anyone to harbor ill feelings toward him.
If one openly expressed disdain for the royalist faction, they should take a page from Deirdre’s brother and avoid attending the capital’s banquets altogether.
A man who had followed the Count chimed in exaggeratedly to Marchioness Campbell’s comment.
“A betrothal with the Campbell family? What wonderful news for the Cottenham family, especially at a time like this…”
Hearing this, the young Count’s face showed a flicker of confusion.
“An engagement announcement is always good news, no matter when it happens, isn’t it?”
The people gathered exchanged glances. The Marchioness was not a fool and quickly sensed what the man was about to say and stiffened her expression.
“Lord Rochepolie, you are at the heart of Swinton’s social circle, yet you seem to be in the dark. Didn’t Viscount Cottenham recently take a major blow… from that ‘White Rose Brigade’?”
The last words were spoken so softly, but they reached everyone’s ears clearly.
Viscount Cottenham was the elder brother of the young man who was the subject of the engagement announcement, and as a captain in the military police, he had been at the forefront of dealing with enemies of the crown.
However, just days ago, right in front of Captain Cottenham, an anti-government militia had successfully broken a political prisoner out of prison.
It was from the notorious Stoneshield.
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