To The Traitor in My Bed - Chapter 43 - Dignified and Reasonable

Chapter 22. Dignified and Reasonable

Throughout the journey back from Wigmore to Rochepolie, Deirdre’s heart felt heavy.

Once they returned to the Count’s residence, Frederick had Kingsley send a funeral director to Wigmore. By the third day after their return, they were able to hold the funeral for the deceased.

In Antwerp, it was customary to bury the dead in the ground. Frederick had the workers begin to thaw the ground in advance. He also contacted the church of the Sulav people in Wigmore and brought a priest.

The people of Antwerp didn’t believe in God, so it was customary for the family or friends of the deceased to deliver a eulogy during the funeral. But with an unknown deceased, there was no one to give the eulogy. Instead, the priest offered long prayers for the deceased.

Though the cold would soon wilt them, Deirdre made sure to prepare plenty of white flowers. Under Lord Rochepolie’s orders, the funeral director placed the deceased in the finest cedar coffin, so at least it didn’t appear shabby despite the chill.

The nameless woman was buried, along with her unborn child and the clothes she wore, in unfamiliar soil, in the sunniest spot of the Rochepolie cemetery.

Deirdre was grateful for her husband’s thoughtfulness, even though she could not deny how awkward it now felt to treat him as she had before.

‘As long as he is good to me…’

It seemed she had entered a stage where thinking that way had become difficult.

The poor woman who had died alone in the snow was not directly Frederick’s fault. If the responsibility for the death of the woman in the estate lay with Lord Rochepolie, Lady Rochepolie should share in that burden too.

Moreover, it was only her own speculation that the deceased could not ask for help because he was a royalist.

However, this incident was a test of her values.

Frederick Fairchild was a simple man who followed the laws and customs of the kingdom, the duties of a nobleman. Had this been another time, Deirdre might have pursued the same course of action as her husband.

No, even now, if she pretended not to know, she could easily live that way. Living beside a wealthy, handsome husband, reigning as the queen of Swinton’s high society.

What kept her from continuing that life was the blood of the Havisham family. The daughter of the late Marquis, who had died unjustly due to Christian’s cruelty. Beneath the fear of the royal family and the military police, naturally, there was resentment towards them.

It had been herself who had once yielded to that fear. It was herself who had compromised with reality when she accepted Frederick Fairchild’s proposal.

At the time, her decision seemed wise. But now, each time her values were tested, she found herself reflecting on that decision, a reflection her twenty-year-old self could never have anticipated.

“Deirdre, are you alright…?”

Frederick cupped his wife’s face in both hands.

They were sitting side by side on the bed in their marital bedroom, both dressed in their nightwear.

Tomorrow, he will leave for Swinton again. Therefore, Deirdre was the one to suggest their union first. She hoped that the warm trust that had bonded them for the past two years would calm her own inner turmoil after they made love.

He was surprised by her suggestion but accepted it. He never refused her, probably to avoid making her feel uncomfortable.

“Of course.”

Deirdre looked into his eyes as she responded. His gaze grew nearer, and she closed her eyes.

Suddenly, she felt the man’s strong fingers digging into her hair. His hands supported the back of her head. Startled by the sensation of her lips parting and something entering, she quickly pulled away from him.

“Frederick.”

In the dim light, his hair glimmered faintly, and his eyes glowed darkly. Her heart raced loudly.

She forced herself to speak calmly.

“I… I will do it.”

With that, she untied the ribbon that held her hair together.

Though it was too dark for him to see clearly, she didn’t want to show her disheveled hair in front of him. Both in attire and posture. He treated her like the kingdom’s finest lady, and she wanted to maintain that same composure even in bed.

Once she had her hair neatly down, she closed her eyes and tilted her head upward again to signal her consent. But the lips that had been hastily seeking hers moments ago were now gone.

Instead, his hands reached for her clothing.

Her cashmere shawl slid off her shoulders, followed by the cotton gown, the silk robe, the lace nightgown, and so on…

Eventually, Frederick burst out laughing.

“Aren’t you suffocating in all these layers?”

“I wear them so I won’t get cold.”

She protested with a blushing face. The awkward atmosphere became even more relaxed. Finally, after everything but her chemise that had covered his wife had been removed, he quickly draped a feather duvet over her.

“You can’t be cold.”

But once the lamp was extinguished, and Frederick joined her in the bed now naked. His body felt startlingly warm. She found herself instinctively clinging to him.

This man must not feel the cold, given how warm his body is.

That was the thought she always had whenever she touched his body. Fortunately, even when her chemise was removed, she didn’t feel cold.

Soon, his large hand wrapped around her chest. She inhaled sharply. Though it wasn’t the first time, it always embarrassed her for this man to see and touch her bare body. As if he sensed this, he made no unreasonable demands.

Thus, in the bedchamber of the Count Fairchild couple, there was no room for lewd acts like those depicted in Mrs. P’s books.