To The Traitor in My Bed - Chapter 56

His tone was so calm that Deirdre found herself clenching her fists without realizing it.

“Do you really think the military police would have arrested the Count without any evidence?”

That was exactly what they had done to her father, former Marquis Havisham.

“Frederick. You know how my father died. The military police showed up without warning, set fire to Aspen Forest, and drove my father into a trap like a rat.”

Her voice began to tremble.

“If someone hadn’t hidden me that day, I might have died with my father.”

“Someone…?”

“There was someone who blocked me on my way home and hid me. They saved my life.”

“I didn’t know that someone saved my wife’s life. Where do they live?”

“That… I don’t know. I never saw their face.”

She realized the conversation was shifting to something else.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. What I mean is… the military police were going to take my father without any evidence, claiming he committed treason.”

He took her hand.

“Calm down, Deirdre. I regret that incident too. But the King himself acknowledged that it was a mistake. If Count Holborn is innocent, like you say…”

“The only people who know that Lord Holborn is innocent are the two of us. The one who helped Viscount Darnell was you and…”

“Not the two of us, only me.”

He cut her off.

“And I never asked Darnell how he escaped from prison or who helped him get to Rochepolie. So I don’t know whether Lord Holborn and that man are really involved or not.”

She abruptly jerked her hand away from him.

“So, you want to just let Lord Holborn die like this? Lady Holborn too? They don’t even know their daughter is dead!”

Frederick looked down at the hand she had pulled away.

“Then.”

He asked in a low voice,

“What do you want me to do, Deirdre?”

“I…”

For a moment, she was at a loss for words.

It wasn’t that she was asking him to do something specific, but as the one who protected Darnell, there was nothing she could decide or do alone.

“I want you to clear Lord Holborn and Lady Holborn’s names, so they won’t be unjustly executed.”

He nodded.

“So, if I go to the military police and reluctantly admit that I protected Darnell, will their charges be cleared?”

“…Probably.”

“And then those two will be released from Stoneshield?”

“Yes.”

He continued asking.

“Should I also mention that Lady Heather died in Rochepolie? Like you said, that she was carrying the child of the Leonhart family…”

Suddenly, Deirdre was confronted with a realization.

What gave her this realization, though, was not Frederick’s intention. He wasn’t trying to make her realize anything. This man spoke as thoughts came to him, not knowing how to suggest or hide his intentions with subtlety.

But as she answered his question, she inevitably reached the conclusion that she couldn’t save the Glenwell family in the way she had thought.

If her hypothesis about Heather’s child was correct, and if Christian had decided to silence the entire Glenwell family, then charges or allegations didn’t really matter…

‘He would destroy the entire Glenwell family, even if he had to frame them for something else.’

“Deirdre…?”

Frederick called her name.

His silvery gray eyes showed concern for her.

He wasn’t particularly affectionate, but he was a good husband. If she wanted, he would do whatever he could to free Count Glenwell from Stoneshield. Not because it was the right thing to do, but simply because it was what his wife wanted.

He wouldn’t realize that this would earn Christian’s anger, and in the worst case, he and Glenwell could be executed together.

Frederick Fairchild was not a bad man.

And that was why Deirdre couldn’t bring herself to hate him. She had known this about him when they married, and yet she continued the relationship.

She was so upset that she crumpled the hem of her dress without thinking. She didn’t even know why she was so upset. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely his fault. But in this moment, the person in front of her, the one who could alleviate her frustration, was him.

Her lips parted.

“…Why do you think Lady Heather Glenwell couldn’t ask us for help?”

“I haven’t thought that far, Deirdre. Maybe she got lost in the snow… or…”

He spoke uncertainly. She shook her head.

“There is no way to get to Wigmore without passing through Rochepolie. It would have been impossible for Lady Heather to walk for days without meeting anyone in Rochepolie. Lady Heather decided for herself that she wouldn’t ask anyone for help in Rochepolie.”

He listened quietly to his wife’s words. At that moment, the calm expression he had seemed particularly cold to her. She met his eyes and, at last, spoke the words she had been holding back.

“Because… Count Rochepolie is a royalist, Frederick.”