My Bratty Wife
Chapter 64 - Sixty Four

Chapter 64: Chapter Sixty Four

A sliver of sunlight peeked through the heavy curtains, rousing Suzy from a surprisingly restful sleep. The events of the night before seemed distant, a hazy memory softened by a decent night’s rest and the soothing effects of the herbal tea.

She stretched languidly, a sense of well-being washing over her. Today, she decided, would be a new day. She’d face whatever challenges awaited her with a clear head and a calm heart.

Suzy luxuriated in a long, warm bath, the steam cleansing away the remnants of the storm and the lingering fear. Dressed in a simple yet elegant gown, she sipped her herbal tea, the fragrant aroma filling her with a sense of peace.

With renewed purpose, she made her way downstairs, eager to oversee the preparations for the upcoming ball. The grand ballroom, a magnificent space adorned with sparkling chandeliers and opulent tapestries, was already a hive of activity. Servants scurried back and forth, polishing furniture, arranging flowers, and transforming the room into a breathtaking venue.

As Suzy approached the bustling scene, however, a peculiar sight made her stop short. In the center of the room, a young woman, with dark brown hair and a confident air that mirrored Suzy’s own, stood barking orders at the servants. She seemed to be in her late twenties, perhaps Byron’s age or even slightly older, but still younger than Ryan.

Suzy’s brow furrowed in confusion. "Excuse me," she said, her voice cutting through the general hubbub. She approached the woman, her gaze cool and assessing. "Who are you, and what’s going on here?"

The woman turned, her surprise quickly morphing into a smug smile. "Ah, the Duchess," she replied, her voice a clipped, affected tone. "Duke Ryan called for my services last night. Apparently, the preparations for the upcoming ball required a more... professional touch."

Suzy’s blood boiled. Ryan had called for someone else to handle an event that was traditionally the Duchess’s responsibility? Without even a word to her? This was a blatant disregard for her authority and a public humiliation.

A wave of betrayal and resentment washed over her. "Professional?" she spat, her voice tight with anger. "I believe I have managed quite well these past few weeks. What makes you think you’re better suited for the task?"

The woman’s smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered. "Duchess," she said, her voice dripping with condescension, "perhaps you haven’t grasped the gravity of this event. A delegation from a neighboring kingdom is attending, and the Duke requires... perfection."

Suzy stood there speechless, her blood rising to the boiling point of water.

The woman continued, her voice a soft whisper. "You mean His Grace didn’t think to consult the Duchess, the hostess of the ball, before bringing in an outsider?" she spat.

Suzy clenched her fists, her nails digging into the soft flesh of her palms. This woman, this outsider, was not only trying to take over her duties but also implying she wasn’t good enough. "What do you mean by perfection?" she repeated, her voice dangerously low. "I can assure you, everything will be handled perfectly. These are my staff, and I am the Duchess. There is no need for your... intervention."

The woman’s perfectly arched eyebrows shot up in surprise. "My apologies, Duchess," she said, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. "I was not aware of your... involvement in this matter."

Suzy clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. The implication – that this woman was taking pleasure in this situation – was more than she could bear. "My involvement," she hissed, her voice barely a whisper but filled with icy fury, "is about to become very apparent."

Ryan pushed open the heavy oak door of his study, the final details of his conversation with Mr. Bradford swirling through his mind. He was about to settle back at his desk, a cup of tea his most welcome companion, when he froze, his eyes widening in surprise.

Suzy stood in the center of the room, a stark silhouette against the sun-drenched window behind her. But it wasn’t just her unexpected presence that startled him. It was the fiery anger blazing in her eyes, a striking contrast to the pale, fear-stricken woman he had seen the night before.

"Duchess?" Ryan’s voice cut through the tense silence, a question laced with concern.

Suzy remained motionless, her gaze fixed on the scattered mess of books that littered the worn Persian rug at her feet. The room, usually a haven of order, now resembled the aftermath of a small explosion. Open books lay strewn across his desk and armchair, their pages splayed like fallen soldiers. Beside them, on the edge of the desk, lay the ten Carleton volumes, their worn leather covers gleaming in the afternoon light. An heavy oak chair had been pushed askew, disrupting the previously symmetrical arrangement of furniture.

Ryan’s brow furrowed. He had specifically left them tucked away on a high shelf, hoping they would remain undisturbed. But Suzy, her face a mask of indignant fury, had clearly unearthed them.

"What are you doing here, Duchess?" Ryan asked, his voice taking on a gentle yet firm tone. "You should be resting."

Suzy finally turned towards him, her eyes flashing with defiance. "And what does His Grace consider ’resting’?" she countered, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Apparently, it involves being sidelined while a complete stranger dictates the arrangements for a ball in my own home!"

Ryan’s shoulders slumped slightly. He had anticipated some frustration from Suzy regarding Miss Adeline, but the raw anger in her voice took him aback. He realized, with a pang of guilt, that perhaps he hadn’t explained his reasoning clearly enough.

Suzy’s voice, laced with a bitter sarcasm that cut through the silence like a whip, echoed through the room. "The Carleton Ball," she spat, the very words dripping with disdain. "An event traditionally organized by the Duchess, if I recall correctly. Weren’t you the one emphasizing the importance of tradition just a few weeks ago, Your Grace?"

Ryan remained silent, his jaw clenched tight. He knew this confrontation was coming, but he wasn’t prepared for the raw fury simmering beneath the surface of Suzy’s normally composed demeanor.

Suzy, emboldened by his silence, took a step closer, her voice rising with each word. "It’s the Duchess’s duty," she declared, her hands clenching into fists at her sides, "to ensure the ball runs smoothly, from the guest list to the decorations. It’s a reflection on her, on her ability to manage a household."

Ryan watched her, his heart sinking with every accusatory word. He understood her outrage, but her misunderstanding of his motives was a painful blow. Suzy, he realized, saw this as a public rejection of her authority, a blatant disregard for her position as Duchess.

"Then why?" Suzy continued, her voice trembling with repressed anger. "Why subject me to all that stress and pressure," she gestured wildly at the Carleton books on the table, "if you knew you were going to bring in someone else to do it anyway?"

Ryan swallowed hard, the silence stretching between them like a taut rope. He knew he had to explain himself, but the right words seemed to elude him.

Suzy, her face flushed with fury, threw her hands up in exasperation. "What’s the point in keeping quiet, Ryan? Say something! Goddamnit, say something!"

Silence.

Suzy’s voice reached a fever pitch, her anger spilling over like a dam bursting. "You must be so pleased with yourself, Ryan!" she shrieked. "So happy to humiliate me in front of her and the staff! Is this some kind of twisted joke? Didn’t you think I was capable? Weren’t you the one who praised my ’strengths’ a few days ago?"

Ryan remained rooted to the spot, his silence a thunderous wall against her tirade. This wasn’t how he’d envisioned this conversation going, but the sheer force of her fury held him tongue-tied.

Suzy, her anger fueled by his lack of response, spun around, her eyes blazing with a fire that rivaled the morning sun streaming through the window. She snatched the closest Carleton book, flinging it at him with a feral cry. "Ten of these behemoths you gave me to read!" she screamed as the book thudded harmlessly against the wall behind him. "A responsibility you said! You must be thrilled to see me working so diligently!"

Anger welled up in her eyes, a mix of frustration and hurt. She grabbed another book, her voice choked with emotion. "These things... all this effort..." The words died on her lips as Ryan’s deep voice cut through the air.

"Duchess, stop it!" he boomed, his voice sharp with a sudden urgency.

Suzy flinched, startled by the command. Before she could react, Ryan strode towards her with a determined glint in his eyes. "Stop what?" she choked out, her voice laced with defiance even as her body trembled. "Do you think I’m a fool? I’ve spent weeks pouring my heart and soul into planning this ball, weeks of effort and dedication, and you expect me to just throw it all away because you brought in some stranger?"

She reached for another book, her arm cocked back for another throw. But before it could leave her hand, Ryan was upon her. With a swift movement, he scooped her up off her feet and hoisted her high onto his shoulder.

Suzy yelped in surprise, clutching at the books that tumbled from her grasp. "Ryan, put me down!" she shrieked, her voice a mixture of anger and disbelief. "What are you doing?"

"We’re going to talk," Ryan declared, his jaw set in a determined line. He strode purposefully towards the window, ignoring her struggles against his hold.

"Talk? I don’t want to talk!" Suzy yelled, pounding her fists on his broad back. "Let me go this instant!"

But Ryan only tightened his grip. He knew this outburst, however dramatic, wouldn’t lead them anywhere. They needed a calm, rational conversation, and that wouldn’t happen while she was flinging books and accusations at him.

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