My Bratty Wife
Chapter 34 - Thirty Four

Chapter 34: Chapter Thirty Four

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across the room as Suzy curled up with the last of the books for the Carleton ball. Mrs. Agatha’s dismissal had caused a minor ripple in the castle, but things were settling back into a semblance of normalcy. Suzy had seen Mary’s dedication and work ethic, so she had recommended her to Mr. Bradford for the vacant housekeeper position. The steward, surprised but relieved to have a reliable replacement, readily agreed.

A satisfied smile played on Suzy’s lips as she flipped the final page. The mystery of the missing gold coins and the previous librarian’s dismissal was finally solved. A pang of guilt touched her – the man’s reputation likely forever tarnished. She vowed to see if anything could be done to rectify that injustice. Ryan, however, hadn’t even offered a word on the matter. This silence, this lack of control, rankled Suzy.

She muttered a scathing, "Pompous sissy," under her breath before squaring her shoulders.

A knock on the door startled her out of her concentration. "Come in," she called, her voice echoing in the vast room.

The door creaked open, revealing Mary, her usual warm smile replaced by a hint of nervousness. "Your Grace" she curtsied, her voice deferential.

"Mary," Suzy greeted with a warm smile. "Please, no need for formalities. How are you settling in as the new housekeeper?"

A blush crept up Mary’s cheeks. "It’s... a bit overwhelming, Your Grace," she admitted, "but I’m determined to do a good job. Thank you for trusting me with this responsibility."

Suzy nodded, a flicker of pride in her eyes. "You deserve it, Mary. You’ve always been dedicated and hardworking. The castle will run smoothly under your capable hands."

Mary beamed, her smile genuine and heartfelt. "Thank you, Your Grace. Is there anything else you need before I retire for the night?"

Suzy glanced at the clock striking eight. "No, Mary," she replied. "That’s all for now. You get some rest."

As Mary curtsied and left the room, Suzy turned back to the books. She had devoured the content with an insatiable curiosity, the history of the Carleton Ball slowly unraveling before her eyes.

With a sigh, she closed the final book, the weight of the knowledge settling heavily in her stomach. It was time to confront the Duke. She rose to her feet, her mind made up.

Night had fallen, casting the castle in an unsettling darkness. Determined strides carried her towards Ryan’s study. Reaching the heavy oak door, she took a deep breath and knocked firmly.

"Enter," came Ryan’s voice, laced with a hint of annoyance.

Suzy pushed open the door, her gaze meeting his cold, calculating eyes. He sat behind his opulent desk, engrossed in a stack of parchment.

A triumphant glint flickered in Suzy’s eyes as she slammed the final book on Ryan’s opulent desk with a resounding thud. "There!" she declared, a hint of breathlessness in her voice. "I’ve finished reading them all."

Ryan, engrossed in a stack of parchment, barely glanced up. A slow smirk played on his lips. "Done already, Duchess?" he drawled, his voice devoid of warmth. "It took you a whole week. Seems you’ve been a tad busy lately."

Suzy’s brow furrowed. The smugness in his tone grated on her nerves. "Busy?" she echoed, her voice sharp. "Perhaps you wouldn’t understand the concept, considering your evenings seem to end rather early."

A cold glint flickered in Ryan’s eyes, a stark contrast to the warmth crackling in the fireplace. "Is that so?" he countered, his voice dripping with icy condescension. "And how, pray tell, can you possibly know my bedtime routine?"

Suzy met his gaze head-on, unfazed by his attempt to intimidate her. "Because, unlike some people," she retorted, her voice laced with sarcasm, "I actually sleep through the night. Finishing these... volumes," she gestured pointedly at the hefty books, "in a week while simultaneously uncovering your little financial crisis would be a feat even for someone with supernatural abilities."

Ryan scoffed, his smile widening into a cruel smirk. "Im surprised for someone of your... supposed intellect."

Suzy felt a surge of defiance rise within her. "Two weeks," she snapped, her voice gaining strength. "That’s what you gave me. And let me tell you, these are not ’light reading’ as you so condescendingly put it. It’s a proof to my dedication."

Ryan’s smile vanished, replaced by a glacial stare. " Okay you are done with it, now Get Out."

Suzy glared at him, muttering a string of curses under her breath. "What the actual fuck!" she hissed, frustration gnawing at her.

Ryan barely blinked, his icy gaze fixed on her with an unnerving intensity. Suzy knew expecting a compliment, or even a flicker of impressed surprise, was a fool’s errand. This man, her husband, was so difficult to understand, his emotions as cold and unreadable as the winter wind.

Suzy straightened her spine, forcing down the simmering anger. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. "Well, I took notes, analyzed passages, and let’s not forget, I did this all in a fraction of the time you allotted." She knew she wasn’t expecting a pat on the back, but a shred of recognition wouldn’t have hurt.

"Okay," Ryan continued, his voice flat and emotionless. "Start with the preparations as soon as possible."

Suzy’s anger flared momentarily, but then something else registered in her brain. He was looking at her... differently. His gaze seemed to linger on her form in a way it hadn’t before. Then, his gaze landed on her.

His eyes narrowed as they took in her attire. She was clad in a nightgown – a beautiful, delicate confection of gold chiffon lingerie adorned with lace and ribbons. The thin fabric offered a tantalizing glimpse her rose bud nipples and the curves of her hips, the firelight adding a warm glow to her flushed cheeks.

For a moment, Ryan seemed lost in thought, a visible difference to his usual cold demeanor. Then, he turned his gaze back to Suzy, his voice devoid of warmth. "So," he drawled, "you storm into my study in the middle of the night, looking like a... vision," his voice dropped to a husky whisper, "and then proceed to pick a fight with me?"

Suzy, still reeling from the dismissal and his callous words about her efforts towards the ball, spluttered in confusion. "Pick a fight?" she stammered, her voice laced with indignation. "What are you talking about?"

Ryan arched an eyebrow, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. He gestured dismissively towards her nightgown. "Are you done... displaying your enthusiasm, shall we say?"

Confused, she glanced down at herself. Her eyes widened as realization dawned. The nightgown. In her haste to prove him wrong about finishing the books in a week, she had completely forgotten she was still clad in her sleepwear.

Her cheeks burned as realization dawned. No wonder his tone had shifted. He hadn’t noticed anything since she came in but he’d noticed her. Shame and anger bubbled up inside her.

"I, uh..." she stammered, completely flustered. "I just... finished the books and wanted to..."

"Wanted to start an argument with me?" Ryan finished for her, his voice laced with baritone that sent a shiver down her spine. "Couldn’t this have waited until morning, Duchess? Or was running into my study in your... nightgown... a deliberate choice?"

"Surely," he drawled, "you’re not suggesting you donned this... enticing ensemble... simply to discuss the finer points of the ball?"

Her cheeks burning with embarrassment. This wasn’t how she wanted him to see her. Not for the first time.

With a muffled squeak, Suzy turned on her heel and bolted out of the study, slamming the door behind her with a resounding thud that mirrored the one she’d made with the book moments earlier. Leaving Ryan alone in the dimly lit room, a faint hint of surprise flickering in his cold eyes.

He rubbed his temples, the tension of the past hour finally starting to ease. The dismissal of Suzy, while necessary, had left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. He glanced at the hefty book lying shut on his desk, a begrudging respect sparking within him. Suzy, for all her fiery defiance, had proven herself to be more resourceful than he anticipated. His gaze then fell upon the ledger tucked between the books, a ledger that clearly wasn’t part of the reading material.

Curiosity piqued, Ryan reached out and opened the ledger. He flipped through the pages, his brow furrowing in concentration. There, meticulously documented, were discrepancies in the household accounts. Discrepancies so cleverly hidden that even Bradford, the meticulous steward, had missed them. A flicker of surprise, tinged with grudging admiration, crossed Ryan’s face. Although stubborn, she had a sharp mind and a keen eye for detail.

A sharp rap on the door jolted him out of his reverie. "Enter," he commanded, his voice sharp.

The door creaked open, revealing Davis, his usual composed demeanor replaced by a look of grim urgency. "Your Grace," he began, his voice a low murmur, "there’s bad news."

Ryan straightened in his chair, a sliver of apprehension tightening his gut. "Spill it, Davis," he ordered, his voice devoid of warmth.

Davis cleared his throat, his face etched with concern. "Viscount Conrad," he stammered, "he’s... dead."