To The Traitor in My Bed - Chapter 12

Deirdre shuddered.

…It was the same man who had come to see Frederick in the middle of the night in Swinton.

The man seemed to be annoyed by something. The only words Deirdre could make out from his muttering were “Why am I…”.

He was empty-handed. It was too dark to tell whether he was carrying a weapon. The man started walking towards the pond, seemingly with no further business at the annex.

Deirdre thought she knew what that business was. He had clearly come to look for the necklace.

‘How did he get this far without being noticed?’

The front door of the mansion was always guarded by the caretaker, and both inside and outside the fence, Frederick’s hired guards patrolled regularly. The back door was locked when not in use, and the dogs barked whenever anyone approached.

‘Maybe they brought the dogs inside to keep them warm…’

But that didn’t mean the Count’s residence would be negligent in its security.

When they were newlyweds, Deirdre had once nearly been lost in the snow, just 300 yards from the estate, chasing after a snow deer on a winter day, after that Frederick had significantly enhanced the security system.

<Deirdre, I can’t stand the sight of a frozen corpse.>

Her husband’s pale face when he said this made her think Frederick was truly a coward.

But what would happen if he knew that strangers were entering his home at will?

The intruder walked across the frozen pond, heading to the opposite shore. Despite his large build, he moved with remarkable agility, even though the incline was likely slippery from the snow.

Now was the chance.

“Hey!”

Deirdre shouted loudly.

Rex was watching from behind. She gathered her courage.

“Stop right there!”

The man immediately started running, so fast that it seemed to Deirdre as though he was soaring over the embankment. The intruder dashed into the snow-covered spruce trees.

“Rex, go after him!”

Rex immediately followed her command.

Though Rex was fast, he couldn’t quite surpass the limitations of being from Aspen, where the snowfall was far lighter than Rochepolie. Catching up with the intruder that was as quick as a rabbit, proved impossible.

By the time Rex reached the embankment, the intruder had already disappeared without a trace. However, Rex remained determined, searching the spruce forest before returning to his mistress.

“I’m sorry, Madam.”

Deirdre shook her head.

“Where do you think he went?”

“I think he scaled the fence. There were no dogs.”

The iron fence around the Count’s mansion was at least twice Deirdre’s height. Given the skill required to climb such a tall fence with no footholds, even if Rex had caught up, he would have lost him.

“Don’t tell anyone else.”

Rex looked puzzled, but he obediently replied,

“Understood.”

* * *

The Havisham family’s dinner parties were held monthly when the Marquis was in Swinton.

The young Marquis rarely appeared at large banquets in the capital, and almost no one was unaware that his absence was a silent protest against the royalists.

Considering Christian’s vile nature, it wasn’t the wisest choice, but emotionally, everyone understood the Marquis’s position. He had lost his father under false accusations.

Who could be expected to smile when seeing the faces of Leonhart or his supporters?

To make up for not attending the royal banquets, the Marquis’s dinner parties were always grand. It was often said that to be someone in Swinton society, one had to be invited to a Havisham dinner at least once.

Particularly the ladies and young daughters were eager to receive invitations from the Marquis, primarily because it gave them the chance to meet Countess Fairchild.

“It would have been lovely if Lady Rochepolie had been here…”

An oblivious noblewoman blurted out the words.

Around the long dining table sat fourteen noble guests, including the host. The butler soon brought out the wine.

Marquis Havisham leaned forward on the table.

“I apologize for not meeting your expectations, Madam. Regarding that matter, I believe Lord Rochepolie might have something to say on our behalf?”

Thirteen pairs of eyes turned toward Count Fairchild.

The Count elegantly placed his fork down.

“The custard cream is quite excellent, Lord Aspen. Our patissier could never replicate this. If there were another patissier who could make buttercream this well, no matter the cost, I would bring them to work at our estate.”

Marquis Havisham gave a faint smile.

Dorian Havisham’s eyes were the same blue as his sister’s, but his hair was a much lighter shade of brown. He was eight years older than his sister, and despite being so handsome, everyone wondered why he hadn’t married yet.

“Lord Rochepolie. We are all quite curious as to why the beautiful Countess did not attend tonight’s dinner party.”

“Oh.”

The Count seemed to finally notice the looks directed at him.

“Deirdre has returned to Rochepolie. We needed someone to manage the estate during the winter.”

“Then why are you, Lord Rochepolie, still here?”

The first noblewoman who had spoken asked. The Count flashed a charming smile.

“I have business to attend to in Swinton, of course. That being said, Lord Aspen…”

He turned his attention back to Dorian.

“I heard you’ve been frequenting other clubs recently. I personally would prefer to stay where I am. The new place is elegant, but they offer dreadful cigars.”

“I didn’t know you were so interested in my affairs, Count.”

Dorian shrugged.