To The Traitor in My Bed - Chapter 5
Chapter 3. My Wife is Adorable
When Frederick began to breathe in a steady, rhythmic pattern, Deirdre quietly got up and made her way to her room. The Countess’s room, kept warm with the fire burning constantly, felt cozy despite being empty for some time.
She sat at her desk and picked up her pen.
[Dorian,
I’ve decided to leave for Rochepolie soon, so I won’t be able to attend the Havisham family dinner this week. Frederick will probably stay in Swinton a bit longer.
It was a last-minute decision, so I hope you’ll understand me informing you only through this letter.
There’s something I’d like you to look into for me…]
It was a quiet night, so peaceful that she could even hear the sound of snow falling from the tree branches. The pen, which had been moving, paused at the sound.
Deirdre reread what she had written.
Whether Count Fairchild was a Froiden spy or a royalist in disguise, standing on the opposite side of the King, Dorian might change his opinion about her husband.
But more than that, Dorian would never forgive the Count for putting his only family in danger.
So, asking Dorian to investigate her husband was something she could never do. After losing their father and older brother so suddenly, Dorian had become overly protective of her—sometimes to the point where it seemed like he had forgotten she was married.
<Deirdre, even though you’re married now, you’re still a Havisham. If anything happens to you, it’s not Fairchild who will be responsible, it’s me. So, you need to tell me first, no matter what happens.>
On her wedding day, Dorian had held her hand that was dressed in her wedding gown, and said those words.
<But I’m going to be the most noble lady in Swinton, what could possibly go wrong?>
<Your husband is Leonhart’s dog.>
<…Back then, I thought it was better to be a coward than to be falsely accused, like Father.>
<Anyone involved with him ends up miserable.>
Dorian had spat those words.
“The ‘him’ Dorian referred to was not Count Fairchild but Christian Leonhart. And Dorian was right. Anyone who got entangled with the power-crazed King ended up in misery.
The previous second Queen and the two Princes. All members of the Leonhart family, except for Sabrina, met tragic deaths. Christian ruthlessly silenced anyone who opposed him. The divide between the royalists and the parliamentarians happened because the King suppressed the Parliament.
If you wanted to live, you could never defy Christian.
That was the common sense and fate of the Antwerp nobility.
Deirdre sincerely wished never to be involved with the royal family again. She wanted to believe that her overactive imagination was simply causing her to suspect her innocent husband. If she confided in Dorian, it would only make things worse.
‘For now, I’ll go back to Rochepolie and think it through.’
Deirdre waited until she saw the flames from the lamp completely consume the letter before getting up from her seat.
There was no sign of movement beyond the door.
* * *
Christian was a king full of suspicion. Even after murdering his brothers to claim the throne, his doubt never truly subsided.
The Parliament, in particular, was a constant reminder of his fear that the nobility would unite to weaken his royal power.
So, whenever the king was in a foul mood, he would dissolve the Parliament, and he also sought to limit the privileges of the nobility by any means necessary.
One of the most bothersome methods for the nobles was the reporting of their movements in and out of the capital. Nobles and their families had to report to the royal palace whenever they entered or left the city.
Because of this, Deirdre had been on edge since the morning.
“Did you sleep well, Deirdre?”
As she was finishing her morning tea, Frederick, looking sharply dressed, entered the morning room.
No one could wear it quite like him. In his satin morning coat, decorated with fine pinstripes, and a narrow lace cravat. Deirdre squinted and observed her husband.
When she occasionally joked, half in jest, half in truth, that “Lord Rochepolie isn’t as interesting as he looks,” her social circle friends would always retort, “At least there’s something interesting to look at.” Seeing him now, she thought that might actually be true.
He seemed to have something to say to her. She quickly spoke first.
“I’ll be going to Swinton Palace in the afternoon, and I’ll leave for Rochepolie before nightfall. I’m glad to see you awake before I leave.”
Her last comment was a subtle jab made toward the man who had only appeared by noon, but he, as usual, didn’t catch on.
“About that… how about going to Rochepolie next week instead? It’s much colder there than Swinton… Ah, Kingsley. Bring more scones, with jam and butter. Plenty of it.”
The last part was directed at the butler who had brought the new tea for his Master.
Though she tried not to, Deirdre couldn’t help but look at her husband with suspicion. Frederick had a sweet tooth. He always made sure to have dessert with every meal, sometimes even replacing a meal with it.
She had always let it slide, but now, thinking about it, she wondered how a lazy man who loved sweets could possibly stay so slim. She knew better than anyone that his well-tailored clothes weren’t the reason his figure looked so good.
She couldn’t help but recall the body she had seen in the bedroom. If she didn’t think of him as a man, she would have no hesitation in touching that beautiful body.
Kingsley placed the scones down and left. Frederick encouraged her to take some.
“Would you like some too?”
Deirdre pushed aside her thoughts about her husband’s physique and tried to return to the original topic.
“If I go to Rochepolie next week, the weather won’t suddenly warm up, so I’ll go today.”
“Actually, I received a letter from the caretaker the day before yesterday, and the plumbing work for the annex is still not finished. It could be quite inconvenient…”
“What could there possibly be to do in the annex at this time of year?”
Perhaps due to her mood, he seemed uneasy now.
“Well said. There are no garden parties or balls in Rochepolie during winter. The Swinton society will need you.”
When it came to Rochepolie in this season, he was right. The estate in the northern part of the kingdom was particularly beautiful in winter, but it was also unusually cold. When the snow piled high, the carriage could barely pass, and you would be stuck indoors for days on end.
Still, she wasn’t swayed.
“Is there some reason I shouldn’t go to Rochepolie?”
“Of course not.”
He replied, spreading butter on his scone.
“If I could, I’d go with you, but I have things that need finishing here…”
“Then it’s good for me that I won’t be in the way of your work.”
“In the way? Deirdre…”
She set her teacup down.
“Yes, I don’t want to be a hindrance. Let’s just drop the subject. If you’d like, I’ll leave Kingsley behind.”
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