My Bratty Wife
Chapter 220 - Two Hundred And Twenty

Chapter 220: Chapter Two Hundred And Twenty

The pungent smell of disturbed earth and something vaguely metallic – blood, Ryan knew – hung in the air. He looked down at Evan’s still form, the unnatural pattern of bleeding on his face a different scenario to a death far removed from a simple carriage crash.

Ryan thought back to the initial, brief report that had reached the palace: Lord Evan’s carriage overturned, presumed fatalities. No details on the state of the bodies. "So that’s why the messenger didn’t reveal the real situation of the accident," he mused internally, his jaw tightening. "He probably saw this... this horror... and chose vague words. It’s indeed gory, but not in the way they’d expect from a mere tumble." The official narrative would be one of tragic misfortune, but the truth, Ryan felt, was etched in the gruesome tableau before him.

He turned to Chief Investigator Hemlock, who was overseeing his men as they carefully documented the scene. Hemlock looked grim but resigned.

"What do you make of all this, Hemlock?" Ryan asked, his voice neutral, probing.

Hemlock sighed, wiping his brow with a handkerchief despite the cool air. "A tragic accident, Your Grace. It seems Lord Evan’s driver lost control on the bend. The carriage went over the embankment... a terrible end. We see it too often on these roads, especially when speed is involved." He gestured vaguely at the steep, rocky decline. "No survivors. Lord Evan and his man... didn’t stand a chance."

Ryan’s gaze flickered to Brook’s mangled body, then back to Evan’s. "An accident," Ryan repeated, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. He knew Hemlock was a competent investigator, but perhaps too quick to accept the obvious, especially when a powerful noble was involved and a simple explanation offered itself. Or perhaps, Ryan considered, Hemlock was subtly indicating the official line he was expected to take.

He decided not to press, not here, not now. "He was... a connection to my family, Hemlock," Ryan said, the words carefully chosen. Evan was hardly beloved, more a thorn in his side, but they were nobles of the country, their families intertwined through blood, generations of politics and occasional alliances. Claiming a familial link, however tenuous, was the quickest way to ensure he had a say in the proceedings. "I’ll need the body for his burial arrangements."

Hemlock nodded sympathetically. "Of course, Your Grace. Once we’ve completed our initial examination here, Lord Evan will be transported to your estate at Carleton with all due respect. His man as well, if you wish to make arrangements for him."

"Thank you, Hemlock. See to it," Ryan replied, his mind already working, dissecting the scene, the inconsistencies. He gave a final, lingering look at Evan’s face, committing the details to memory.

Then, he turned and walked back towards his waiting carriage, brushing imaginary dust from his coat sleeve – a habit he had when deep in thought or unsettled.

Davis held the carriage door open, his expression carefully neutral, but his eyes questioning as Ryan settled back into the seat.

"What’s with the expression, Your Grace?" Davis asked quietly as the carriage began to move. "More than just the shock of seeing the lifeless body of Lord Evan, I gather."

Ryan stared out the window, the grim scene receding behind them. "He’s clever," Ryan said, his voice low and intense. "Extremely clever. Masking a murder, a poisoning no less, with such a violent, chaotic accident. It’s almost perfectly staged and they were there, I could sense someone watching our every move."

Davis remained silent, absorbing his master’s words. He knew Ryan’s keen intellect and his eye for detail, especially when it came to matters of life and death.

"Evan must have stumbled onto something," Ryan continued, thinking aloud. "He must have acquired some real evidence, something dangerous to this person, for them to resort to such a drastic measure. Evan was many things, stupid, yes but he wasn’t foolish enough to corner a wolf without believing he had a strong cage." He paused. "And this killer... they didn’t just eliminate Evan; they tried to erase the very fact of murder."

Davis nodded slowly. "A dangerous adversary, Your Grace." He then turned to give an instruction. "Driver, proceed to Carleton. We need to start the preparations for—"

"No," Ryan interrupted, a sudden decisiveness in his voice. He looked at Davis, a different emotion now flickering in his eyes – a need for solace, perhaps, or a desire to connect with something pure and untainted after the day’s grim discoveries. "Not Carleton. Take me to the Chateau Valeré. I need to see my wife."

Davis blinked, surprised by the change. The Chateau Valeré was the Duchess Cassandra’s private retreat, a smaller, more secluded estate nestled in the wine country, a place safer than Carleton. It was her sanctuary to keep her safe from the threat on her life.

"As you wish, Your Grace," Davis said, relaying the new destination to the driver. He glanced at Ryan, understanding dawning. After the dismissal of his case, the reinstatement to the grim task of hunting the killer, and now this brutal murder scene, it was natural the Duke would seek the comfort of his Duchess.

——————

Miles away, in the quiet opulence of his own residence, Byron swirled a glass of deep red wine, the light illuminated by the flames of the fireplace glinting off its surface and the dark wood of the Blackwood ring on his finger. Elias stood before him, having just returned.

"Did they buy it?" Byron asked, his voice a silken murmur, his gaze fixed on the play of light in his glass.

"Yes, My Lord," Elias confirmed, his tone even. "The Chief Investigator declared it an accident. The scene was... convincing. The damage to the carriage, the state of Lord Evan’s associate... it all pointed to a violent mishap."

Byron nodded slowly, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Good. Simplicity is often the most effective deception."

Elias hesitated for a moment. "However, My Lord... I believe His Grace, Duke Ryan, may not have entirely accepted the official explanation. He spent a considerable time observing Lord Evan’s body. His questions to the investigator were... pointed, though subtly so and he could feel eyes were on him."

The smile on Byron’s face widened, genuine this time, carrying a hint of dark amusement. "Ryan?" he mused. "Ah, yes. I would be rather surprised if he actually believes it was a mere accident. He’s far too astute for that. It’s one of his more... admirable qualities." There was no malice in his tone when he spoke of Ryan, merely a detached acknowledgment of his brother’s intelligence, as one might appreciate a worthy opponent in a complex game.

He took a slow sip of his wine, savoring the taste. He paused, then continued, his voice dropping slightly, becoming more intense, his gaze turning inward as if picturing a future scene. "Elias, cease your active search for her. There’s no need to stir the waters further."

Elias looked up, a question in his usually impassive eyes.

Byron’s smile became predatory, his eyes gleaming with a chilling confidence. "He will bring her himself. She will surely attend Evan’s burial. Nobles are so predictable in their social obligations, even for those they despised." He looked across the room then, as if addressing someone unseen, someone who was always in his thoughts. "And I’ll get her there. At the funeral. It will be the perfect, most poignant setting for your death, won’t it, Cassandra?"