My Bratty Wife
Chapter 57 - Fifty Seven

Chapter 57: Chapter Fifty Seven

Doris bustled around the room, She slipped Suzy into a simple yet stunning emerald green dress that accentuated her curves and flattered her complexion. The fabric shimmered with a subtle sheen, catching the last rays of the setting sun that streamed through the window.

As Doris secured the dress at the back, she glanced at Suzy’s reflection in the mirror. "There, Milady," she declared with a satisfied smile. "You look absolutely radiant."

Suzy couldn’t help but smile. Despite the turmoil within, Doris’s unwavering loyalty and care always managed to lift her spirits. "Thank you, Doris," she said sincerely. "You always know how to make me feel beautiful."

Doris reached for a brush, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Now, for your hair. Shall we put it up in a fancy braid today?"

Suzy hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. "Actually, Doris," she began, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, "I think I’ll leave it loose today."

Doris’s brows shot up in surprise. "Loose, Milady? Are you sure? A formal dinner usually calls for a more... elaborate style."

Suzy chuckled. "Yes, I know," she admitted. "But tonight, I feel like letting my hair down... literally."

With a deft flick of her wrist, she loosened the partially completed braid and gently brushed out the curls, letting them fall in a soft, cascading wave.

"As you wish, Milady," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "But you always look stunning, no matter the hairstyle." Causing a chuckle to escape from Suzy’s lips.

Doris chuckled along, a knowing glint in her eyes. She expertly dampened Suzy’s hair making it easier to tame the unruly curls.

As she spritzed Suzy’s hair with water to make it more manageable, Doris couldn’t help but voice her thoughts. "You know, Milady," she began cautiously, "I rather like the new guard, Noah."

Suzy raised an eyebrow, her reflection in the mirror showing a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Oh, do you now?" she teased.

Doris’s cheeks flushed a rosy pink. "Well, yes," she stammered. "He’s quite handsome, Milady. And kind. And... well, he seems strong."

Suzy couldn’t help but let out a laugh, the sound echoing softly in the room. "Hold your horses, Doris," she said playfully. "We barely know the young man."

Doris’s blush deepened, but a defiant spark twinkled in her eyes. "There’s plenty of time to get to know each other, wouldn’t you say?"

Suzy chuckled. "Perhaps," she admitted. "But be careful, Doris. Don’t get your hopes up too high, or your heart might get broken."

Doris huffed good-naturedly. "Yes, Milady," she replied, as she did the finishing touches to Suzy’s hair, securing a delicate pearl comb to hold the curls in place.

Gently, she took note of the small bandage adorning Suzy’s arm from the recent attack. "Would you like me to change the plaster, Milady?" she inquired softly.

Suzy nodded, wincing slightly as Doris peeled off the old bandage. "Yes, please, Doris. That one feels a bit... scratchy."

Doris worked with nimble fingers, replacing the old plaster with a fresh one. "There you go, Milady," she said, smoothing the edges. "Much better, wouldn’t you say?"

Suzy flexed her arm, relieved to feel the discomfort minimized. "Thank you, Doris," she said with a genuine smile. "You always know how to take care of everything."

Doris beamed. "It’s my pleasure, Milady. Now, shall we head down to dinner? I hear Mrs Madelyn and the kitchen staff have outdone themselves tonight."

Suzy stood up, brushing a stray curl from her forehead. "Lead the way, Doris," she said, a growing grumbling sound settling in her stomach.

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A nervous flutter filled Suzy’s stomach as she pushed open the doors to the dining room. Dinnertime with Ryan was rarely an occasion for leisurely conversation. She expected to find him seated at the head of the table, his plate already half-full, an evidence of his usual impatience.

And that’s exactly what she found. Ryan sat perched at one end, his back rigid and his expression as unreadable as ever. A single glance confirmed her suspicions – tonight was no different.

"Good evening, Your Grace." she announced, her voice echoing slightly in the vast hall.

He grunted a response, not bothering to look up from his plate. "Duchess," he acknowledged, his voice devoid of warmth.

It seemed tonight, dinner would be as usual – a tense affair punctuated by the clinking of silverware and the occasional cough to break the suffocating silence.

Suzy, used to his coldness, simply nodded and proceeded towards the opposite end of the table, where her chair was positioned.

Doris materialized at her side, gently pulling out the chair for Suzy to sit. As she settled into the plush seat, a flicker of movement caught her eye.

Noah, the young man assigned to be her personal guard, stood by the doorway, his back ramrod straight. He was positioned exactly as she had instructed, about five paces away. He wore a simple shirt and trousers, as instructed, and a slightly sheepish smile. Catching her gaze, he gave a small, hesitant bow. Suzy couldn’t help but offer him a faint smile, acknowledging his attempt to follow her orders.

She felt a flicker of sympathy for the young man. Being assigned as her personal guard must seem like a rather thankless task.

Turning her attention back to the table, she surveyed the feast that awaited. The flickering candlelight danced on the polished silver platters, highlighting the culinary artistry that had gone into preparing the feast.

At the center of the table stood a magnificent roasted goose, its golden skin glistening with fat and herbs. The aroma, a delightful combination of savory and slightly sweet, filled the air, making Suzy’s stomach rumble in anticipation. Flanking the goose were an array of delectable side dishes – fluffy mashed potatoes studded with fresh herbs, roasted vegetables with a hint of char, and a colorful salad bursting with fresh greens and seasonal fruits.

A silver cloche sat on a platter beside her, a tantalizing mystery waiting to be unveiled. Lifting the lid with a soft clink, Suzy discovered a delicate porcelain dish filled with a creamy seafood bisque, the aroma of fresh herbs and simmered fish wafting upwards.

Bread baskets overflowing with freshly baked crusty rolls and soft, pillowy white bread sat at either end of the table, along with a selection of sweet butter pats and glistening olive oil. To complete the feast, an assortment of crystal glasses sparkled beside each plate, hinting at the promise of fine wine.

The aroma of the food proved too tempting to resist, and Suzy found herself digging into the sumptuous spread. The silence, however, was deafening. Usually, their meals were filled with an awkward quiet, broken only if Ryan had something crucial to impart. Tonight, however, the silence seemed charged with a different kind of tension.

As Suzy savored the rich flavor of the bisque, a question cut through the quiet.

"How’s the wound on your arm healing?" Ryan inquired, his tone surprisingly gentle.

Suzy’s head snapped up, a startled gasp escaping her lips. She almost choked on the creamy soup, her eyes wide with surprise. "My... my arm?" she stammered, wiping a stray drop of bisque from her chin.

"The wound you sustained when climbing the apple tree," Ryan clarified, a hint of impatience creeping into his tone. "Is it healing alright?"

"Oh," Suzy replied, relief washing over her. "Yes, it’s fine, thank you for asking. Just a small scrape, really. It’s healing quite fast."

A beat of silence followed, then Ryan spoke up again, the question seeming almost forced out. "And your... other injuries?"

Suzy hesitated, unsure what he meant by her other injuries. She simply replied, "There weren’t any other injuries, Ryan."

Silence descended once more, the quiet punctuated only by the clinking of silverware. Suzy, braced by Ryan’s unexpected inquiry, decided to return the favor. "How about you?" she asked tentatively. "How’s your arm healing?"

"Fast enough," came the clipped reply.

The awkward charade continued, each question punctuated by lengthy silences.

Ryan, however, seemed restless, his gaze darting around the room before settling back on her. Finally, he broke the pattern once more.

"Can you waltz?" He inquired abruptly, his voice almost a murmur.

The question hung in the air, unexpected and jarring. Suzy stared at him, bewildered. "Waltz?" she repeated, unsure if she had heard him correctly.

Ryan cleared his throat, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone. "Yes, waltz," he confirmed. "Do you know how to dance?"

Suzy shook her head slowly, her confusion deepening. "No, I... I don’t." They had never discussed dancing. So where was this coming from? The idea of a waltz, of dancing with Ryan, felt utterly out of place in the midst of their strained relationship.

"What’s a ball without ... Waltzing," Ryan muttered, his voice barely a whisper. He seemed to come to a decision. "I’ll arrange for a dance instructor tomorrow," he declared, his voice firm.

Before Suzy could question him further, he pushed himself away from the table. With a curt "Goodnight, Duchess," he strode out of the dining room, leaving her stunned and speechless. This sudden concern, the abrupt request for dance lessons – it was all so out of character. What was Ryan up to? What game is he playing?