After I Died, My Husband Went Mad - Chapter 51
Thanks to an unruly lord who left Hillend Hall in his care and ran off, Ryan was having a busy and troublesome day.
And today was sure to be one of those days.
“Where’s the Duke gone, and why are you in his place?”
Viscount Rems, brother of the duke two generations prior and the uncle of Dehart’s father, burst through the doors of Hillend Hall.
The problem was that the manor doors did indeed burst.
“Given the Duke’s strong will, we couldn’t possibly…”
“That’s enough, Yves.”
Grose was being interrogated alongside Glenn, and the young butler who had been appointed in his palace was clearly at a loss for words and beyond his depth.
“Welcome, Lord Rems. I had no choice but to receive guests in the Duke’s absence, so I ask for your understanding.”
“Are there only such fickle people around the Duke?”
Lord Rems displayed an unpleasant air and tapped the floor with the end of his cane.
“But good for you. By the looks of it, I can see very clearly that the Duke has been neglecting Hillend Hall and not managing it properly.”
“My Lord, you are too quick to judge.”
“What does a mere knight know to dare argue with me?”
Although Lord Rems had silver hair, his demeanor was as fearless as the knights of their prime. In fact, he was superior to his brother, the Duke of Inverness, in matters of governance, earning great respect in the northern regions. Such was his fame and glory that in his day that Dehart was little more than an unripe child in the eyes of the Viscount Rems. So no wonder he felt free to break down the doors of Hillend Hall.
“This is a family affair. No matter how much the Duke entrusted you with temporary responsibilities, there are certain limits!”
Viscount Rems was taking charge to restore order in the chaotic household.
He’s come to fetch the Lady and Lord Roger.
It was evident. Back in the day, Viscount Rems was the one who had marked Roger and his wife as Dehart’s guardians.
Ryan glared at him with a cold, piercing gaze. However, Viscount Rems didn’t back down.
“…For now, let Yves escort you to your room.”
Ryan clicked his tongue as he walked past the Marquis of Rims, who stared back at him in disbelief.
I must somehow buy time until the Duke returns.
It was an excruciating situation.
* * *
His head felt hot. No, it seemed like his throat was burning. As he remained dazed, he suddenly felt a boiling sensation within his chest.
Oh, not this again.
As Dehart regained his senses, he noticed Denisa. The middle-aged woman looked at him with a face that seemed unsure of what to do, yet there was a familiar air about her.
It felt like the warm midday sun, pushing away the damp shadows—a gentle breeze-like aura.
She resembles someone… I think I know who.
Everywhere he looked, no matter what he did, thoughts of Sebelia flooded his mind. He felt like he was going crazy, torn between wanting to collapse and let go of everything and wanting to set the world on fire and run away.
But neither was an option.
Impossible.
He wasn’t allowed to have regrets, forgiveness, or even self-destruction—not until he uncovered the truth of Sebelia’s death.
He bit suddenly on his wrist to open a wound, bringing back much needed clarity to his mind. Dehart winced at Denisa’s gaze as she looked at him like he was a madman.
“Either way, you have no choice but to come with me.”
“Your Grace, what the…” Denisa shook her head and let out a rueful breath. “Please calm down first. I can’t give you what you want, but I can give you my time to talk.”
She didn’t know what made him think that Lady Sebelia was assassinated….
“Everything you’re thinking right now is a misunderstanding.”
She coaxed Dehart gently. If he wanted, she was prepared to answer all the questions he was pouring out.
“Even if I had some secret, it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with Lady Sebelia’s death.”
But that wasn’t the answer that Dehart wanted. He didn’t want to accept such a diplomatic, nonchalant response.
“Ha…”
Exhaling a sigh, he lowered his head to meet Denisa’s gaze. “Listen carefully. Do you see that open-air café table diagonally across the street?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t answer, just listen. There’s a loving couple sitting there, and they keep watching you. Why would they do that?”
Denisa’s eyes flickered, but Dehart didn’t stop there.
“And in the back alley of the shop we just passed, there were three young men pretending to smoke for over twenty minutes.”
Only then did Denisa realize what he was talking about.
“Oh, there’s a woman passing by 231 Ellard Street, Apartment 5-1, every three hours. Do you know her?”
“…”
“She was peeking in your window this morning, wondering if you were sleeping in.”
The considerate, affectionate manner of delivering these stories held a single meaning.
Someone had set their sights on me.
Whatever their intentions were, they were going to be very bad for Denisa.
With a reassuring touch on Denisa’s frozen shoulder, Dehart gently pressed on. “That’s right. I don’t care if you’re being kidnapped for something that has nothing to do with Sebelia.”
With graceful words, he drew a golden line.
“But standing by and witnessing the horrific treatment of my wife’s nursemaid is not something that befits a person. Don’t you agree?”
Denisa had no choice in the matter.
