My Bratty Wife Novel Chapter 72 - Seventy Two

Chapter 72: Chapter Seventy Two

Sunlight stread through the ornate windows of Ryan’s study, illuminating the stacks of maps and reports sprawled across his desk. Ryan, his brow furrowed in concentration, leaned over a parchnt, scribbling notes with a quill. Across from him sat Thorne.

"We leave the day after tomorrow, then," Thorne confird, his voice gruff but steady.

Ryan nodded, his gaze montarily flickering away from the docunt. "Yes, we can’t waste any ti. These reports are disturbing, to say the least."

Thorne leaned back in his chair, his tired face etched with concern. "Indeed."

A brief silence settled over the room, broken only by the scratching of quill on paper. Ryan’s hand, however, hovered slightly above the docunt, a flicker of worry clouding his eyes.

"The Duchess," Thorne finally started, noticing the shift in Ryan’s deanor. "Should I arrange additional security at her residence during your absence?"

Ryan’s gaze drifted out the window, where the lush greenery of the castle gardens beckoned. "She’s been having nightmares lately," he murmured. "ntions missing her family. I think a change of scenery might do her good."

"So?"

"So," Ryan continued, forcing a nonchalant tone, "I’ll drop her off at her father’s manor before we leave. She can stay with them until I return."

A bead of sweat trickled down Ryan’s temple, a stark contrast to the coolness of the morning air. Thorne, his gaze unwavering, saw the anxiety simring beneath the surface.

"You’re sweating, Your Grace," he pointed out, his voice laced with concern. "Are you sure everything’s alright?"

Ryan ran a hand over his brow, wiping away the moisture. "Just a little...discomfort," he stamred. "Nothing a good night’s rest won’t solve."

Thorne didn’t seem convinced. He knew Ryan better than anyone, and the tremor in his voice betrayed his discomfort. But before he could press further, a loud knock echoed through the room.

"Enter," Ryan commanded, his voice gruff.

"Your Grace," Davis announced in a low voice, "Miss Eleanor is currently in the garden, enjoying tea with the Duchess."

Ryan’s hand, already clenched around the quill, tightened even further. A jolt of anger coursed through him, quickly followed by a surge of dread. Eleanor’s unexpected arrival, especially after her unsettling appearance at the ball, was the last thing he needed.

"Eleanor?" Thorne echoed, a note of surprise in his voice. "I wasn’t aware she was in the kingdom."

Ryan’s jaw clenched tight. "I just found out last night," he replied, his voice a low growl. "Thank you, Davis. You may go."

Davis bowed his head slightly and exited, leaving a tense silence in his wake.

Thorne leaned back against the desk, his eyes fixed on Ryan. "Perhaps you should postpone your departure," he suggested cautiously. "Dealing with the Duchess and this unexpected visitor might require your imdiate attention."

Ryan, however, shook his head resolutely. "No, the investigation is too important. I’ll deal with her when I return."

Eleanor was the last person he wanted Suzy to be around, especially now. That woman was a viper, a venomous creature with secrets that could shatter everything he had built.

Thorne, sensing the urgency in Ryan’s eyes, rose to his feet. "I believe that will be all for today, Your Grace," he said, his voice calm but laced with a hint of concern. "I’ll be back after you’ve... dropped off the Duchess."

"See you soon, Thorne," he said, his voice tight with resolve. "I believe a long rest is in order."

Thorne gave him a single, knowing nod before exiting the room. Ryan, his face a mask of steely determination, turned towards the door.

Davis pushed open the study door monts later, a silver tray laden with a steaming teapot and delicate pastries balanced precariously in his hands. He found Ryan hunched over his desk, his face pale and clammy. Papers were scattered across the surface, seemingly abandoned in mid-thought.

"Your Grace" Davis stamred, setting the tray down with a clatter that echoed in the tense silence. "Your afternoon tea."

Ryan didn’t respond, his head hanging low, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Beads of sweat ford on his forehead. Davis, alard, rushed forward.

"Are you alright, Your Grace?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. "You look terrible. Should I call for the doctor?"

Ryan slowly raised his head, his eyes bloodshot and glazed. "No," he rasped, his voice a re croak. "Just a... a passing discomfort. I’ll be fine."

Davis wasn’t convinced. He knew Ryan’s stubbornness. This was more than a minor ache. But before he could argue, Ryan pushed himself upright with a groan, his hand pressed against his stomach.

"Excuse , Davis," he murmured, his voice strained. "I believe I need so rest."

Without waiting for a response, Ryan stumbled towards the window, drawn by a scene playing out in the lush garden below. There, amidst the vibrant blooms and cascading fountains, sat Suzy and Eleanor, an unlikely pair sipping tea. Eleanor, her purple gown a stark contrast to Suzy’s simple floral but elegant attire, seed animated, her gestures animated while Suzy listened intently.

A jolt of anger, sharp and unwelco, sliced through Ryan’s already fragile state. He clenched his fists, the knuckles white against his skin. What was Eleanor saying to Suzy? What nonsense was she weaving with her honeyed words?

Seeing the Duchess with Eleanor was the last straw. The weight of his worries, the gnawing suspicion about Eleanor – it all slamd into him, creating a suffocating pressure in his chest. "What ga is Eleanor playing?" He asked himself.

He stumbled back from the window, gasping for breath. Davis, his apprehension growing with each passing mont, rushed to Ryan’s side.

"Your Grace!" he exclaid, his voice laced with panic. "You need to sit down. You’re not well!"

Ryan sank to his chair, the room spinning before his eyes. His illness, which seed a re inconvenience monts ago, now felt like a monstrous beast clawing at his insides. He closed his eyes, his mind a whirlwind of worry and despair.

"Leave , Davis," he rasped, his voice barely audible. "I... I need to be alone."

Davis hesitated, his loyal instincts warring with his lord’s command. But seeing Ryan’s pale face and the tremor in his hands, he knew arguing would be futile. With a worried frown, he nodded and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

———————

Suzy sat nestled amongst the fragrant blooms of the castle garden. Sunlight dappled through the leaves of towering oak trees, casting dancing patterns on the perfectly manicured lawn. Honeysuckle vines twined around a nearby trellis, their sweet perfu filling the air. She wore a simple yet elegant dress, its floral pattern mirroring the colorful explosion of blooms around her. Across from her, Eleanor, dressed in a regal purple gown, sipped her tea with an air of practiced refinent.

"Thank you for accepting my invitation to tea, Miss Cassandra," Eleanor began, her voice smooth as velvet. "It’s lovely to have a chance to chat with you in a more relaxed setting."

Suzy offered a polite smile, the warmth barely reaching her eyes. The only reason she had agreed to Eleanor’s invitation was to learn more about this woman, her sudden appearance in their lives and to pry into her motives.

"The pleasure is mine, Miss Montgory," Suzy replied, her voice laced with a hint of formality.

Eleanor gestured towards a small, beautifully wrapped package that sat beside her teacup. "I actually have sothing for you," she said, her eyes glinting with an unreadable emotion. "I wasn’t able to give it to you at the ball last night."

Suzy eyed the package with suspicion, her eyebrows raised in question. "That’s thoughtful," she said, her voice cautious. "But there’s no need for gifts."

Eleanor’s smile faltered for a mont, but she quickly recovered. "Nonsense," she insisted. "Consider it a small token of welco. A Duchess should have beautiful things, don’t you agree?"

Suzy hesitated, then inclined her head towards a nearby maid. "Miss Montgory is kind enough to bring

a gift," she said, her voice soft yet firm. "Perhaps you could help

take it inside and put it with the other gifts?"

The maid nodded and scurried over, taking the package from Eleanor’s outstretched hand. Suzy watched her go, a knot of unease tightening in her stomach.

"My birthday is coming up soon, you know," Eleanor chirped, her voice attempting lightness. "I’m planning a grand masquerade ball, a bit of a tradition in my family. And of course, I would be honored to have you and the Duke as my guests."

Before Suzy could respond, a figure erged from behind a hedge, his face etched with worry. "Duchess," he stamred, his voice bordering on frantic. "I apologize for interrupting, but I must inform you..."

Davis paused for a mont, collecting his thoughts. "The Duke... well, he’s not feeling well. A fever, actually. He’s quite stubborn and refuses

to call Dr Abernathy, but I thought perhaps..."

Suzy’s expression changed. Ryan?

Glancing at Eleanor, she caught a fleeting flicker of sothing in her eyes – could it be worry?