My Bratty Wife
Chapter 222 - Two Hundred And Twenty Two

Chapter 222: Chapter Two Hundred And Twenty Two

The soft morning light painted the chateau bedroom in hues of pale gold and rose, dust motes dancing in the sunbeams that slanted through the sheer curtains. A comfortable silence settled over Ryan and Suzy, a stark contrast to the earlier frantic energy and subsequent passionate reunion. Her silk nightgown lay in a heap on the floor with his discarded shirt and trousers, forgotten symbols of their urgent need for each other.

Ryan lay with his head pillowed in Suzy’s lap, her fingers gently carding through his dark hair, an absentminded, soothing rhythm. He felt a profound sense of peace, a quiet anchor in the storm of his recent life. His own hand reached up, his thumb lightly tracing the curve of her cheek, then tenderly tucking a stray, curly strand of her rich auburn hair behind her ear. The tendril had escaped the loose braid she wore to bed and now framed her face, softened by sleep and love.

He murmured, his voice husky with contentment, "I seem to have thoroughly messed up your usually perfect hair, my love."

Suzy smiled, a soft, sleepy expression that made his heart ache with affection. She leaned down to press a light kiss to his forehead. "It’s a small price to pay for having you here with me." Her fingers continued their gentle massage on his scalp. After a comfortable pause, she asked, her tone casual but with an undercurrent of curiosity, "I heard the King called you to the palace quite urgently some days ago. Davis was very discreet, but I gathered it was important."

Ryan sighed softly, the peace of the moment tinged with the reality he couldn’t entirely escape, even here in her arms. "Yes," he replied, his eyes finding hers. "It was. I’m heading the investigation into the nobles’ deaths again."

Suzy’s hand stilled in his hair. "Again? But wasn’t that... wasn’t that task given to Lord Evan?" she asked, a faint line appearing between her brows.

Ryan’s expression became carefully neutral. He shifted slightly in her lap.

"Evan’s dead, Cassandra." He delivered the news gently but directly. "He died yesterday."

Her fingers, which had resumed their stroking, paused abruptly. Her eyes widened, searching his face for any hint of a jest, though she knew this wasn’t a matter he’d joke about. "Dead?" she whispered, the single word filled with shock. She wanted to be sure she’d heard correctly, the news so sudden, so jarring after their intimate morning. "Lord Evan is... dead?"

"Yes, darling," Ryan confirmed, his voice low and steady. "Dead."

"But... how?" she asked, her mind racing. Evan, for all his unpleasant qualities, had been a fixture in their world, a man of influence and seemingly robust health. "Was he ill? An accident?"

Ryan hesitated. He looked into her concerned brown eyes and weighed his words carefully. He didn’t want to alarm her unnecessarily, but he also knew she deserved more than platitudes. "The official report, and the scene itself, suggest it was a carriage accident," he said, choosing a partial truth. "His carriage overturned on the road from the city. But," he added, a touch of his own skepticism creeping into his voice, "we’re still looking into all the circumstances. It’s... complex."

Suzy was silent for a long moment, absorbing the news. Evan dead. It was difficult to process. He had been an antagonist, a source of trouble for her and Ryan, but his sudden demise was still unsettling. The silence stretched, filled only by the distant chirping of birds in the chateau gardens.

Ryan gently disengaged himself from her lap and sat up on the edge of the bed, turning to face her properly. He took her hands in his. "That’s also a part of the minor reason I came directly here, to the chateau," he told her, his thumbs stroking the backs of her hands. "Aside from desperately needing to see you, I wanted to tell you myself. And to take you back to Carleton. There will be a burial, and as Duchess, your presence will be expected, however... strained relations might have been."

Suzy’s gaze sharpened, her mind, always quick, making connections. "Is it the same person, Ryan?" she asked, her voice low. "The one who is murdering the nobles? The one who killed Doris?"

Ryan met her gaze. "Smart as always, my love," he thought, a familiar mix of pride and concern welling within him. He gave a slow nod. "I believe so. The... methods are different this time, if it was indeed murder, but the audacity, the timing... it feels connected."

She searched his face, her earlier shock giving way to a deep concern – not for Evan, but for the man before her. "How are you?" she asked softly. "Really. He was, for lack of a better term, your family, even though he was often an insufferable idiot. And now you have to investigate his death too."

Ryan managed a faint smile at her blunt assessment of Evan. "I’m... processing it," he admitted. He knew she wasn’t just asking about Evan, but about the weight of it all – the investigations, the danger, the political machinations. "I’m fine," he said, and to make her believe it, to reassure himself as much as her, he gently pulled her towards him, settling her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace. "Truly. As long as I have you to come home to, Cassandra, as long as I have this," he murmured into her hair, "I’m fine."

Suzy smiled against his shoulder, her arms encircling his waist, holding him tightly. The scent of him, the solid feel of his arms around her, was the truest comfort. "And you always will have me," she whispered back.

They stayed like that for a while, finding solace in the simple act of holding each other, the grim realities of the outside world momentarily held at bay by the sanctuary of their shared affection.

A soft, discreet knock sounded at the bedroom door, followed by a familiar voice. "Your Grace?" It was Mrs. Agnes, the chateau’s head housekeeper, her tone polite and deferential. "The maids are here with fresh linens and to prepare your bath, Your Grace. And breakfast is almost ready to be served."

Suzy sighed softly against Ryan’s chest, reluctant to break the embrace, to let the world intrude. She raised her voice slightly. "Thank you, Mrs. Agnes. Could you please tell them to come back a bit later? My husband and I find ourselves... rather indisposed at the moment."

A knowing smile touched Mrs. Agnes’s voice, audible even through the heavy oak door. "Of course, Your Grace. As you wish. I shall inform them right away." Her footsteps receded down the hallway.

Ryan chuckled, a low, warm sound. "Indisposed, are we?"

Suzy tilted her head back to look at him, a playful glint in her eyes. "Thoroughly," she confirmed, before leaning in to capture his lips once more.

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