To The Traitor in My Bed - Chapter 6

Although the Fairchild family could certainly afford to hire more servants, the only butler at the Fairchild was Kingsley. Kingsley always accompanied the master and mistress whenever they traveled to the capital or the estate. Looking back, it was indeed a bit odd.

Deirdre had always assumed that her husband was simply particular about the people he kept around him.

He didn’t argue further.

“Of course, you should take Kingsley with you. Did you hear? Madam will be leaving for Rochepolie this afternoon. See to it that she’s well taken care of.”

The butler bowed.

* * *

“Hartley.”

Count Fairchild’s personal secretary, Sir Mark Hartley, was a man of great conscience.

He found it uncomfortable that he knew more about his employer than the employer’s wife. Because of this, Hartley’s brow always carried the look of a man burdened by the guilt of keeping secrets.

And his employer, however, had no interest in Hartley’s guilt.

When the Count barged into the office without knocking, Hartley was deep in work.

“Count, to review the tasks you’ve assigned will take some time…”

The Count cut him off.

“Have you spoken with Deirdre recently?”

Hartley found himself naturally uneasy in front of the Countess, as he knew things that she didn’t. At the same time, her beauty left him feeling somewhat overwhelmed.

He usually kept his distance, and whenever their paths crossed by chance, he stuck to the superficial conversations the Count had instructed him to engage in.

Even then, the Countess was so kind that she often misinterpreted his reserved attitude and would ask,

“Eh… The last time I saw her in the hall with just a brief greeting, nothing more.”

The Count rarely furrowed his elegant brow, but when he did, his eyes were enough to express his mood. Right now, it was clear he was upset.

The Count approached the window, pulling back the curtains slightly to look outside.

In the courtyard, the Countess’s preparations for her trip were in full swing.

“I think my wife suspects something.”

“Ah, finally…!”

Hartley blurted out without thinking, quickly shrinking back.

“How did you know?”

“She suddenly said she would return to Rochepolie on her own.”

Hartley looked at him in surprise.

“Is Madam really going to Rochepolie? Not to Landyke?”

Landyke was located on the opposite bank of the Merilbon River, across from Rochepolie, and was part of Marquis Campbell’s estate.

Marchioness Campbell had taken quite a liking to Deirdre, and she was often invited to visit. The Count had no objection to his wife socializing with the nobles of the neighboring estate.

Until recently, when he heard that Campbell’s eldest daughter had become engaged to Cottenham’s second son.

“What? Why is Deirdre going to Landyke?”

“The Marchioness wants to send Lady Rosina… their daughter who’s engaged, to Landyke. It’s just as dull as Rochepolie, so I thought perhaps Madam would keep her company.”

Hartley replied, repeating the rumors he’d heard.

Although Baronet Hartley wasn’t short, he was thin and pale, often blending into the background. He made full use of this, which allowed him to quietly gather information for his employer.

“Why would the Marchioness do that? If she wants to make the Cottenham engagement the talk of Swinton, she should keep Rosina close and keep showing her around.”

“She’s worried the young lady might change her mind. Who gave her false hope by smuggling Lady Rosina’s boyfriend out of prison.”

The ‘White Rose Brigade’ had broken Viscount Ian Darnell out of the prison, where he had been held for publishing a newspaper critical of the royal family two years ago. At that time, it was none other than Lysander Cottenham, the military police captain and love-rival of Count Fairchild, who had put the cuffs on Darnell.

To achieve his goals, the Count needed Viscount Darnell, and he risked everything to break him out. But, as fate would have it, Darnell was also Rosina Campbell’s secret lover.

The Cottenham family is currently the most trusted by the King. Given that, it’s understandable that Marquis Campbell would want to arrange a marriage. But for Rosina, the Cottenham family is the family of her enemy, who had imprisoned her lover without a proper trial.

Now that her lover has successfully escaped after being thought to be doomed to spend his life in prison, she must be tormented by the situation.

The problem is…

“The Marchioness is doing something unnecessary… Rosina shouldn’t go to Landyke. Rochepolie is just a stone’s throw away.”

“And the Merilbon River is thickly frozen. Even a child could walk across it.”

The Count answered, his gaze still fixed on the window.

“What I don’t want, after Deirdre going to Rochepolie, is that.”

Surveillance, investigation, infiltration, disguise, bribery, and of course, life-threatening challenges…

The operation to free Viscount Darnell had been a difficult one, and both the Count and Darnell himself had been injured in the process. The Count’s injury was limited to his arm, but Darnell’s wounds were much more serious.

Currently, Darnell is recovering at Rochepolie, thanks to Count Fairchild’s care. The Count’s annex, which was rarely used in winter, was an ideal place to protect an injured person.

So, the Countess must not go to Rochepolie now. When Viscount Darnell hears that Rosina is in Landyke, he will certainly try to cross the river to see his lover, and therefore, the Lady should not go to Landyke either.

“Is there any way to keep Lady Rosina and Madam in Swinton? Or should we contact Rochepolie?”

“…”

“Lord Rochepolie…?”

Although Hartley couldn’t see it while sitting, the Count, who was standing behind the curtains, had a full view of the courtyard.

The latest model carriage with a furnace was parked outside, it had been arranged by his butler Kingsley. The Countess’s luggage was piled high. His sharp eyes recognized one of the horses tied to the carriage—it was the wild Fars.

He then saw Deirdre walking out with the help of the footman and servant. Hailing from the southern Aspen region, she was particularly sensitive to the cold. Wrapped in layers of clothing—a corset and petticoat over a thin cotton underdress, then a woolen petticoat, an over-dress, a coat, and a sable fur cloak—she waddled slightly.

Hartley saw a soft smile flicker across the Count’s face. It was a rare expression he showed when dealing with ‘work.’

“…Goodness, she’s truly adorable.”

The Count muttered.