To the Traitor in My Bed - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Earl’s Two Reputations

It was well past midnight when the Earl and Countess of Fairchild returned to their townhouse. As the carriage passed through the snow-covered garden, neither spoke a word.

When alone with his wife, Frederick spoke far less than he did in social gatherings. However, his silence wasn’t uncomfortable or heavy. In fact, it seemed he was making an effort to be considerate after his wife declared that she would return to the estate alone.

‘Or maybe he simply has no thoughts at all,’ Deirdre thought, which was more likely.

She elegantly thanked her husband as he helped her down from the carriage.

“Thank you.”

Accepting his escort, she entered the house. As she reached the stairs to the second floor, she hesitated for a moment. He had just said, “Good night,” and was about to turn away.

“…Frederick.”

He looked at her calmly, his hair shining brightly under the light.

Embarrassed, she spoke, “Shall we share a room tonight? We’ll be apart for a while…”

He nodded obediently. The Earl was always mild when it came to their marital relations, which only happened once or twice a month. Deirdre was grateful for that.

She gently grasped his arm before letting it go.

“Then I’ll go to my room for a moment.”

As she hurried away, she didn’t notice the deep gaze following her.

Her long-time maid, Bertha, was waiting for her outside the door. Smiling brightly, Bertha quickly helped the Countess out of her fur cape, muff, and dress.

“Do you need assistance with your bath, madam?”

“No, thank you… I’ll be sleeping elsewhere tonight.”

“Then I’ll make preparations over there.”

After her maid left, Deirdre immersed herself in the warm bath. The bath was one of only five hot-water tubs in the capital, including one in Swinton Palace. Fairchild’s townhouse had two more such luxuries.

The kingdom’s winters were long and harsh. Young noblewomen across the country would gladly marry a man with even a flawed character if it meant having a bath that heated water automatically. Having a wealthy, handsome, and considerate husband was certainly a stroke of luck.

As the man, who had bathed even longer than she did, entered the marital bedroom, Deirdre was still reflecting on her fortune.

He appeared as relaxed as ever. His carefree demeanor helped calm her nerves. The Earl of Fairchild was far too simple-minded to understand his wife’s feelings or concerns.

‘A man like this couldn’t possibly be involved in something like treason,’ she told herself, awkwardly wrapping her arms around his neck. Soon, his warm lips met hers in a gentle kiss.

It was a kiss as light as a breeze settling on a flower petal.

He never rushed. Even on their wedding night, he was as gentlemanly and careful as he was now. Though Deirdre had only a theoretical understanding of her marital duties, he had gently guided her through them.

Their bodies slowly lowered onto the bed.

Deirdre always felt awkward during these moments. The purpose of their relations was to have a child. She had hoped it would happen quickly, but whether due to timing or her irregular cycles, she hadn’t yet conceived. Until then, they would have to continue this uncomfortable act.

As his hands undid her robe and pulled her nightgown over her head, she shyly closed her eyes.

Still, Frederick was considerate, so she didn’t find it unbearable. Removing their clothes, touching bodies, and gradually becoming one with him—the predictability of this ritual was something she liked.

Frederick never unnecessarily prolonged the process. Yet he didn’t fumble awkwardly like she did; perhaps men inherently knew how to handle their wives in bed.

As his touch grew more intimate, her breath became shallow. With one hand, he embraced her, and with the other, he gently caressed her, soon covering her with his body. At first, there was always a slight pain, but she had learned from experience that it didn’t last long.

His firm body pressed down on her, moving slowly against hers.

From an aesthetic perspective, her husband’s body was impressive. Smooth, with no excess fat, his lean muscles and tall stature made him stand out in whatever he wore. But the man on top of her felt intimidating. The weight of his body and the pressure from his instinctive movements often left her unsure of how to feel.

As a faint pleasure followed, Deirdre finally felt relieved when a deeper satisfaction came over her.

When it was over, Frederick held her and asked, “Are you alright?” Instead of answering, she buried her face in his broad chest, her breath shallow, her face flushed.

A little later, Frederick kissed her lightly on the forehead and got up.

Deirdre listened to the sound of water from the bathroom.

After their nights together, Frederick always bathed for a long time. He washed so thoroughly that by the time he returned, his face looked exhausted. It was just a sign of his fastidiousness, she thought. And of course, she preferred a clean husband to one who wasn’t.

Before he came back, she quickly put her nightgown on again.

When he returned, smelling of soap, she closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep.

***

Like most nobles in Antwerp, Deirdre’s marriage was arranged against her will. The king himself had orchestrated it. As a royalist, Frederick had no reason to refuse, and Deirdre couldn’t bring herself to defy it.

Her brother, Dorian, openly complained. “Sure, Fairchild’s rich, but you know how shameless he is. If Father and Damond were still alive, they would have married you off to a far more manly man. Poor Deirdre Haversham.”

Damond had been her eldest brother. In recent years, the siblings had tragically lost both their father and Damond in separate accidents.

Still, she considered herself fortunate.

“Once I become the Countess of Fairchild, it’ll be a great help to the Haversham family. If I have to marry, a rich man is the best choice.”

Fairchild was certainly wealthy. He controlled seventy percent of the income from Rochefolley in the vast northern regions, seventy percent of his family’s inherited business, and most of the capital gains from his real estate, stocks, and bonds. All of this belonged solely to the earl.

Dorian’s opinion that Frederick wasn’t manly wasn’t just a personal grievance. The Earl of Fairchild had a reputation for being a coward. Three years ago, when neighboring Freuden had demanded the return of territories, sparking war, the earl had shirked military service, instead offering the king a well-trained mercenary army and substantial funds.

His excuse, that he was the sole heir to the Fairchild family, had apparently convinced not only the king but also the other nobles. Even those who disliked him preferred to call him an “opportunist” rather than use the more derogatory term “coward.”

Whether coward or opportunist, Deirdre didn’t intend to judge her husband solely by that reputation. Nor was she particularly concerned about another, more romanticized reputation: the “lover of the princess.”

There was only one princess in Antwerp’s royal family, Leonhart, and that was Princess Sabrina Leonhart.

From the time the former Earl of Fairchild visited the royal palace with his young son, Frederick and Princess Sabrina had built a strong friendship. The boy and girl were such a fitting pair that those who saw them often speculated about their rosy future.

But that princess had married into the Grand Duchy of the Freuden Confederation five years ago. The war between the two countries had broken out when the grand duke lost power and another duke, Arthur, seized control.

The duke had taken the grand duchess, now a widow after her husband’s suicide, as a hostage in an attempt to reclaim the territory. But to King Christian of Antwerp, his half-sister’s life was of little importance.

“If the princess dies during the war, we won’t even have to bother with a grand funeral,” he had said.

The war had raged on for ten months, ending in a narrow victory for Antwerp.

Even after the war, Christian did not allow the princess to return to her homeland. The peace treaty included the following clause:

[Sabrina, widow of former Grand Duke Dietrich, will be confined to the Strascheburg Castle in Freuden until her death.]

The war had made Fairchild even richer. The world remained sympathetic to the young earl who had permanently lost his lover. Many believed that it was Frederick who had convinced the king to spare the princess’s life, knowing full well that Christian was the kind of man who wouldn’t hesitate to send assassins to kill his now-useless sister.

As for Deirdre, she had never met the princess. She had no reason to be jealous of her or to distrust her husband, as some people imagined. In fact, Frederick’s personality wasn’t as attractive as his appearance. It was unfortunate for the ladies who admired him in social circles, but despite his popularity, he lacked wit and charm. During the early days of their marriage, when they had tried to spend more time together, his conversations were always superficial.

In the end, people liked him for his wealth, fame, and appearance.

Deirdre didn’t expect anything more from her husband.

Yet, on rare sentimental days, she couldn’t help but wonder if he had truly loved the princess, as the rumors suggested, and if, after losing the chance to reclaim her, the fire of passion, wisdom, and courage that should have driven a young man of twenty-seven had been extinguished.

Nevertheless, she was nothing more than his dutiful wife. Accepting this, she fully enjoyed the privileges that came with being a countess. She did her best to keep the turbulent domestic and international affairs at a distance, such as the rumors about the “White Rose Brigade.”

“The rumors may be true—they could very well be Freuden spies, as the rumors say. Even the name, ‘White Rose,’ makes sense, doesn’t it?”

The white rose was the symbol of the Freuden Confederation. Was it just a coincidence that the emblem of a militant group committing treasonous acts—raiding royal armories, funding anti-government press, and breaking political prisoners out of jail—was also a white rose? Of course, no one knew the truth.

The nobles who resented the tyrant King Christian quietly rooted for the brigade’s success. Deirdre, if she were honest with herself, shared their sentiments, although she was also afraid of being suspected of supporting the parliamentary faction.

That’s why, when she learned that a foreign man with a heavy accent had been coming and going from her home, she was utterly shocked.

At first, she tried to reassure herself.

‘Surely there’s not just one person in Antwerp who speaks with a foreign accent.’

The continent was home to many countries besides Freuden. The nation with the most frequent exchanges with the kingdom was the neutral state of Ratnum, which shared its eastern border with the kingdom. Perhaps the accent she heard was Ratnum’s.

But then, why was Frederick secretly meeting a foreigner at night?

If he could tame a wild horse with such ease, why had he pretended he couldn’t ride?

Once the doubts began, they multiplied endlessly.

Earl Fairchild was frequently away from home. His aides and lawyers handled most of the work, but his signature was still required on contracts. This meant he was always meeting with people. While Deirdre had free access to every part of both their townhouse and the Rochefolley estate, there were certain parts of her husband’s life she didn’t pry into out of respect for his privacy.

The earl actively avoided not only horseback riding but also swordsmanship and marksmanship—skills that were mandatory for nobles in Antwerp. He had even told Deirdre that the sight of blood made him nauseous and urged her not to take up any hobbies involving firearms or blades.

“If that horse tries to throw you again, I’ll have Kingsley sell it. You can be sure of that.”

This had been his warning after the incident with Parth. It was unusual for Frederick to show any interest in his wife’s hobbies, as he generally didn’t care about her personal affairs at all.