My Bratty Wife
Chapter 53 - Fifty Three

Chapter 53: Chapter Fifty Three

Ryan pulled out the plush armchair in his chambers, exhaustion pulling at his limbs. The doctor had just finished examining his arm, pronouncing it a simple flesh wound that would heal in time. A dull ache throbbed in his shoulder, a constant reminder of the attack.

With a sigh of relief, Ryan settled back against the plush cushions of his armchair, his face etched with fatigue. The events of the past few days – the attack, the journey back, and the frantic activity upon their arrival – had taken their toll.

A sharp knock on the door startled him from his reverie. "Come in," he called out, his voice raspy.

The door creaked open, and Thorne, his brow furrowed with concern, strode into the room. "Your Grace," he greeted, his voice laced with relief. "Thank the heavens you’re back."

Ryan managed a weak smile. "Good to see you too, Thorne."

"Well," Thorne continued, his voice laced with concern. "The doctor just informed me of your... unpleasant welcome back."

Ryan looked at him and managed yet another weak smile. "It wasn’t exactly a parade, was it?"

Thorne chuckled humorlessly. "Indeed. Davis filled me in on the attack. Are you alright? The Duchess as well?"

"We’re both a little worse for wear," Ryan admitted, "but otherwise unharmed."

Thorne pulled a chair closer and settled down. "And the meeting with the council? Did they offer any assistance with the investigation?"

Ryan sighed, a tired gesture that mirrored the weight on his shoulders. "Not exactly. They suggested I dredge up the dusty tomes in the kingdom’s archive, hoping to find something. Apparently, if the murderer is indeed a noble, there must be some ancient grudge, some sort of a vendetta involved, some family feud simmering beneath the surface."

"And?" Thorne leaned forward, his gaze keen. "Did you find anything?"

"Not a single shred of evidence," Ryan replied, frustration creeping into his voice. "The royal scholars assured me the archives are comprehensive. Apparently, the kingdom’s archives are limited to official records and historical documents. But between you and me, Thorne, they only scratch the surface."

"Intriguing," Thorne murmured, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "What did they propose?"

"They suggested looking into the private family archives of the nobility," Ryan explained. "Apparently, every noble house maintains their own records, some dating back centuries. These archives could potentially hold clues the official records wouldn’t."

"That’s a good idea," Thorne said, a flicker of excitement crossing his features. "A personal archive is where we might find a clue, something the murderer wouldn’t want us to see."

Ryan’s shoulders slumped. "True, but approaching each noble family and asking to rummage through their personal history is a delicate matter, to say the least. They’d be suspicious, and frankly, some might not be too keen on an outsider poking around in their dirty laundry."

Thorne ran a hand through his hair, a frown creasing his forehead. "You’re right. It’s a risky proposition. Alerting the murderer is the last thing we need. But without a starting point, we’re chasing shadows."

They both fell silent, the weight of the situation hanging heavy in the air. The council’s suggestion, while sound in theory, was fraught with challenges. Gaining access to these private archives would be a hurdle, and the possibility of tipping off the culprit couldn’t be ignored.

Thorne ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. "So, what do we do? We can’t exactly leave this investigation at a standstill."

Ryan straightened in his chair, a new resolve hardening his features. "We tread carefully," he declared, his voice firm. "We start with the families we trust, those with impeccable reputations and no reason to obstruct the investigation. We explain the situation delicately, emphasize the importance of discretion, and hope they see the bigger picture."

Thorne nodded slowly, a thoughtful glint in his eyes. Ryan continued. "It’s a gamble, but it’s the only lead we have right now. We can also try and identify any recent disputes or rivalries between the deceased and members of the nobility. Any grudge, no matter how seemingly insignificant, could be a vital clue."

Thorne settled back into his chair, a thoughtful frown etching itself on his face. "There might be a lead," he finally said, his voice tinged with caution. "I met with a member of Luke’s family earlier."

Ryan’s ears perked up. "A family member? Who?"

"His sister, Amelia," Thorne replied. "She seems genuinely distraught by Luke’s death, understandably so. According to her, Luke had been acting...strange...."

"Strange?" Ryan echoed, his curiosity piqued.

"Apparently, Amelia had seen him on several occasions, deep in conversation with a man," Thorne explained. "This man, according to her description, always kept his face obscured, with only a flash of his eyes visible. She said they were a very striking shade of brown."

A jolt of recognition shot through Ryan. The image of the masked attacker, with his sole visible eye flashing brown in the moonlight, flooded back into his mind. Could there be a connection?

"What else did Amelia say?" Ryan asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"She confided in me that Luke had been accumulating a significant amount of debt recently," Thorne continued. "She suspected he was involved in some shady dealings, perhaps gambling or something of the sort. However, she had no idea he could be involved in Viscount Conrad’s death."

Ryan steepled his fingers, his mind racing. The pieces were starting to fall into place, albeit in a confusing and unsettling manner. Luke, deeply in debt, seen meeting with a suspicious man with brown eyes, the same color as the attacker’s.

Interesting.

"Did Amelia describe the man’s clothing or any other distinguishing features?" Ryan pressed, urgency lacing his voice.

Thorne shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. She said the man was always shrouded in darkness during their encounters, and she only saw him from a distance. But she did mention one peculiar detail – he seemed to be taller than Luke by a considerable margin."

A tense silence settled over the room after Thorne finished recounting Amelia’s story. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to click into place, but the picture they were forming was far from clear.

"It has to be the same man," Ryan finally broke the silence, his voice laced with a newfound certainty. "The one with the brown eyes. He’s the one who ambushed us on the way back from the council meeting."

Thorne’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. "The one who injured you? Are you certain? You never mentioned anything about a brown-eyed attacker."

"There was so much going on," Ryan explained, a grimace twisting his features as he recalled the harrowing encounter. "The gunfight, which he’s undeniably good, the confusion... but now that you mention it, there was a glint of brown in the darkness when he turned towards me and issued a warning."

"They’re getting desperate," Thorne muttered, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "The fact that they’re resorting to threats tells me we’re getting closer to the truth. They’re afraid of what we might uncover."

A flicker of concern flickered across Ryan’s face. "Desperation often leads to rash decisions, Thorne," he said, his voice low. "And that worries me."

"What worries you?"

"The Duchess," Ryan admitted, the weight of his unspoken fear settling on his shoulders. "Getting closer is good, but it also puts the Duchess in danger. If they can’t get to me, they might try to go after her."

Thorne’s expression hardened. "Absolutely not. We can’t let them harm the Duchess." He clapped his hands together, a decisive glint in his eyes. "Davis!"

The door creaked open, and Davis, materialized at the threshold.

"Your Grace?" he inquired, his gaze flickering between the two men.

"Davis," Ryan began, his voice firm, "I need you to arrange additional security for the Duchess. Discreetly, of course. We don’t want to raise any unnecessary alarms."

"Of course, Your Grace," Davis replied with a curt nod. "Consider it done. I’ll personally oversee the selection of the most reliable guard."

"Thank you, Davis," Ryan said, a wave of relief washing over him. He knew he couldn’t afford to be reckless, not with Suzy’s safety at stake.

Once Davis had disappeared, Thorne leaned forward in his chair, his gaze fixed on Ryan. "Good call," he said. "The Duchess’s safety is paramount, Your Grace. You can’t let them use her as leverage."

Ryan nodded solemnly. "I know. Now, back to our plan. We need to start with the family archives of those nobles with impeccable reputations. People who wouldn’t dream of harboring a murderer or obstructing an investigation."

"Agreed," Thorne said, a determined glint in his eyes. "But we need to be tactful in our approach. We can’t barge in and demand access to their private records. We need to convince them, discreetly, of the importance of our investigation."

"Exactly," Ryan concurred. "But remember, Thorne, this has to be done with utmost secrecy. We don’t want to alert our suspect that we’re sniffing around their family secrets."

Thorne rose from his chair, a resolute nod gracing his features. "I’ll handle the negotiations," he declared. "You just need to focus on recovering. We’ll crack this case, Your Grace , but only if you’re at your best."

Ryan managed a weak smile. He knew Thorne was right. He couldn’t afford to be weakened by exhaustion or fear.

"Then I’ll get the scouts started," Thorne declared, his voice firm. "We have a lot of ground to cover, and precious little time."

With a curt nod of farewell, Thorne took his leave, leaving Ryan alone in the quiet of his chambers.