My Bratty Wife
Chapter 74 - Seventy Four

Chapter 74: Chapter Seventy Four

Eleanor, her face flushed with frustration, approached the castle servant who’d been summoned by Suzy. "There’s no need to bother with arrangements," she snapped, her voice tight with barely concealed anger. "I’ll see myself out."

She stormed out of the castle, her elegant purple dress rustling with each furious step. As she neared her waiting carriage, a familiar figure emerges. It was Byron.

"Eleanor?" Byron exclaimed, his surprise evident. "What brings you here?"

Eleanor stopped short, her eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and desperation. "I came back for what’s rightfully mine," she declared, her voice trembling slightly.

Byron raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "And what exactly would that be?"

Eleanor glared at him. "Don’t play coy, Byron. You know exactly what I’m talking about – Ryan."

Byron sighed, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Leave him be, Eleanor. He’s married now, living a good life."

"A life arranged for him!" Eleanor shot back. "Do you think Cassandra even knows the real reason behind their marriage?"

Byron remained silent, his jaw clenched. Eleanor, interpreting his silence as confirmation, pressed on.

"I saw it, Byron," she continued, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. "All your efforts, pushing them together. Why? What’s in it for you?"

Her gaze pierced through him, searching for answers. "Or Is it because of me, Byron?"

Byron averted his gaze, his silence speaking volume. Eleanor’s heart sank. The truth, unspoken but clear, hung heavy in the air.

The anger simmering within Eleanor threatened to boil over. "I know the truth, Byron," she hissed, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I know you’ve harbored feelings for me since we were children. Even as children, you saw my feelings for Ryan, you hid your own affections behind a facade of friendship."

Byron flinched, his carefully constructed facade momentarily crumbling. "Eleanor, that’s in the past," he muttered, his voice strained.

Eleanor laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "The past? That’s what you call it? You pretended to be the loyal brother, the confidante, all the while suppressing your own desires. But I saw through your charade, Byron."

Her voice softened slightly, dripping with a bitter sweetness. "Perhaps you thought by orchestrating this plan of bringing them together," she continued, "you could somehow gain a place for yourself in my life. A consolation prize, wouldn’t you call it?"

Byron stared at his shoes, the weight of her words heavy on his shoulders. He couldn’t deny his past affection for Eleanor, but his loyalty to his brother had always come first.

Eleanor, sensing his turmoil, took a step closer. "And what about Ryan?" she pressed, her voice laced with a sharp edge. "Do you truly believe he’s happy with this insipid marriage? He still loves me, Byron. We have a connection you can never replicate, no matter how hard you try."

Byron finally met her gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Eleanor," he countered, his voice firm, "you need to accept reality. Ryan is married. He’s building a life with the Duchess, and you barging in and claiming his love is not only selfish, but a betrayal to him."

She scoffed. "Betrayal? You speak of betrayal when you’ve been manipulating your own brother for years? Do you think pushing him to another woman makes him happy?"

Byron opened his mouth to retort, but Eleanor cut him off. "Don’t bother with empty words, Byron," she spat. "Your efforts in making them fall in love will be in vain because I know Ryan hasn’t moved on yet. He’s just angry and when I clear up the misunderstanding he has about me, he’ll be back to me."

With a final, withering glance, she turned and swept towards her carriage, her anger momentarily masking the deep hurt that gnawed at her heart. Byron watched her leave, a heavy weight settling in his chest.

As Eleanor climbed into her carriage, a sense of emptiness washed over her. Her carefully constructed narrative, the belief that Ryan still belonged to her, was crumbling. But it was quickly overshadowed by a renewed sense of defiance. She wouldn’t give up on him that easily.

Just then, Davis approached him. "Lord Byron," he said, bowing his head, "the Duke has come down with a fever. The Duchess has issued an order that no visitors are allowed until he recovers."

Disappointment flickered across Byron’s face. He had hoped to see Ryan, to discuss about the appearance of Eleanor. But with the Duchess’s order, there was nothing he could do.

"Thank you, Davis," he said, his voice tinged with resignation. "I will visit another time."

He turned and walked away, leaving the castle behind.

————————

Ryan stirred awake on the plush sofa in his room, the remnants of a feverish dream clinging to him. Dr. Abernathy had finally left, leaving behind a strict warning for rest.

A wave of dizziness washed over him as he tried to sit up, but a throbbing pain in his head forced him back down. He closed his eyes, willing the nausea to subside.

Suddenly, a vivid memory jolted him awake. He saw himself standing by the study window, a hazy image of Suzy and Eleanor engaged in a heated argument filling his vision. Though his mind was still fuzzy, snippets of their conversation echoed in his ears.

"You seem to know more about our marriage, right?" Suzy’s voice, laced with a hint of suspicion, cut through the fog.

Then another phrase, clearer this time, resonated in his mind: "One thing is clear, he’s my husband now."

A spark of curiosity, quickly followed by a mischievous grin, spread across his face. The duchess declaring him her husband? This was news! He had fallen asleep during their conversation in the garden, succumbing to the fever’s relentless grip.

What had transpired in his absence?

Ryan’s imagination ran wild. Had the duchess finally come around? Did the news of his illness tug at her heartstrings, igniting some flicker of affection?

He chuckled to himself, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest. Perhaps sudden illness wasn’t so bad after all. A playful glint lit up his eyes as he thought of teasing Suzy about her "ownership" later.

Just then, the door creaked open, and a wave of disappointment washed over him. It wasn’t Suzy, but Davis.

"You’re Grace," Davis announced, his voice carrying a hint of concern. "You should be resting."

Ryan sighed, the playful glint fading from his eyes. Rest was all he had done for the past few hours, his mind buzzing with unanswered questions and the lingering memory of the argument. All he wanted was to see Suzy, to understand what transpired in the garden.

"Your Grace," Davis said, setting down a fresh glass of water on the table beside him, "the Duchess said she’ll be here shortly. However, she has issued an order that no visitors are allowed until you recover fully."

Ryan, momentarily distracted from his thoughts, raised an eyebrow. "An order?" he echoed, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. "Is the Duchess worried I’ll be overwhelmed by well-wishers?"

Davis offered a small smile. "Perhaps, your Grace . She seems quite concerned about your well-being."

Ryan’s amusement deepened. Concerned, was she? Or perhaps there was another reason for the sudden visitor restriction. He couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with Eleanor’s unexpected visit.

"Very well," Ryan conceded, leaning back on the sofa. "Inform the Duchess I appreciate her concern."

Davis bowed. "As you wish, your Grace ." He turned to leave, then paused at the door, a new thought striking him. "Oh, and before I forget, Lord Byron came to visit earlier."

A flicker of surprise crossed Ryan’s face. Byron? What brought his brother here?

"Byron, huh?" Ryan mused. "Tell him I apologize for missing him. But as you can see," he gestured weakly towards himself, "I’m not exactly in peak form for visitors."

"Certainly, my Lord," Davis replied, bowing once more. "He will be informed of your message when he returns."

With that, Davis exited the study, leaving Ryan alone with his thoughts. Byron’s unannounced visit, coupled with the news of Suzy’s impending arrival and the visitor restrictions, made his head spin. He couldn’t help but wonder what had transpired during their conversation in the garden.

As the silence settled back in, a nervous anticipation filled the air. Suzy’s declaration echoed in his mind: "He’s my husband now." Was there a hint of something more beneath those words? A flicker of affection, perhaps? Or was it simply a matter of asserting her claim?

Ryan closed his eyes, a wave of exhaustion washing over him. The fever had taken its toll, leaving him weak and vulnerable. Yet, amidst the fatigue, a spark of hope ignited within him. Maybe, just maybe, this illness, this dreadful unexpected situation, would finally yield some answers about his marriage and Suzy’s true feelings towards him.

He settled deeper into the sofa, a small smile playing on his lips. He would wait for Suzy, and when she arrived, he would use every ounce of his strength to unravel the mystery that was his wife.