My Husband Never Dies - Chapter 43

Evelyn, who had spent an unplanned summer holiday in Dalebury, returned to a warmer Brumfield.

Spring to summer. It had only been a single season, and yet it felt as though centuries had passed. That was likely because of the man beside her.

Evelyn stole a glance at the man staring into the distance. In Dalebury, there hadn’t been a single opening. Whether by poison or d***s, she needed to knock out the duke somehow, but there had been no way to obtain anything useful at the time.

She had no intention of recklessly pushing her luck, knowing she stood no chance against him by force. If it were discovered that she even knew how to bring him down, the consequences could be severe. Waiting for the right moment was the only option.

Her heart pounded wildly,Evelyn forced herself to steady her breath. The first rule of being an assassin was composure. But ever since meeting him… even holding onto her sanity had become difficult.

The man, who had been gazing wordlessly at the mountain that towered fearlessly in the sky behind Broomfield Manor, opened his mouth.

“Hmm…”

Letting out a short, meaningless murmur, Calix then turned to Evelyn with a smile on his face.

“Eve.”

A large hand naturally cupped her cheek. Those blue eyes, clear as the summer sky, curved like a crescent moon. The duke’s insufferably smug grin made Evelyn’s mood plummet.

“Shall we go in?”

Rather than respond to his gentle tone, Evelyn simply turned and began walking toward the mansion. Her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. After a few steps, she came to a halt.

“Eve.”

At some point, the man had taken hold of her wrist. He pried open her clenched hand and pressed his lips against the red marks left by her nails. Heat from his ticklish breath spread across her palm.

“How does it feel to be home after so long?”

His tongue slid across her palm. From the spot he touched, a wave of goosebumps shot up her arm. A shiver ran down her spine on instinct.

Jerking her hand away, Evelyn shoved the duke hard and hissed through gritted teeth:

“Feels like shxt.”

“Haha.”

Despite her vulgar reply, he laughed as if she’d just whispered a love confession. His complete indifference to her venom made her snap. Anger surged, and Evelyn spat her next words out.

“I need a fxcking drink. Goddamn it, what kind of idiot comes back here sober?”

“A drink?”

Even as those crude, vicious words spilled from lips like flower petals, the man still looked at her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. Evelyn made no effort to hide the disgust twisting her expression.

No matter what she said, no matter what she did… nothing ever seemed to reach him. She lashed out on purpose, but the duke remained completely unfazed. It was exhausting.

“Yes, I suppose a drink’s fitting to celebrate returning to our lovely home after so long.”

Biting her lower lip, Evelyn spun on her heel and strode into the mansion. From behind her came a low, amused chuckle. Let him laugh. That might be the last time he ever does.

As she marched up to her room, fists clenched, Evelyn called out.

“Laura.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Despite having witnessed her master and mistress’s unhinged exchange, Laura showed no sign of discomfort.

If anything, Laura seemed to believe the duke genuinely adored his wife. After all, he came to her bed every night and laid rare gifts from across the world at her feet.

It was both pitiful and bizarre that Laura still thought that way, even after hearing the duke and duchess speak like that.

Evelyn, bristling with frustration, yanked the ring off her finger and hurled it to the floor. The emerald ring clattered dully as it bounced and rolled down the stairs.

“Oh—!”

Laura gasped, instinctively turning to retrieve it.

“Laura.”

“Y-yes, ma’am!”

“I think I’ll have a cup of Fiolle tea.”

“Oh! I’ll brew it right awa—”

“I’ll do it myself today. Just bring me the leaves.”

The voice was firm, leaving no room for resistance. Laura hesitated, torn between the fallen ring and the order, but ultimately obeyed, leaving the ring where it lay and hurrying upstairs. Would the case of Fiolle leaves still hold any of that deadly poison?

The contract with Prince Adrian was no more. It hadn’t been terminated or broken. It was like the contract had never existed in the first place. That meant the poison he’d supplied might also be gone.

Evelyn climbed the stairs with a heavy heart. She might bear the title of duchess, a position of immense prestige, but the fact that she couldn’t even freely acquire a vial of poison was simply laughable.

Even if the Fiolle tea leaves were still there, Evelyn couldn’t afford to feel at ease. Would the duke really fall victim to the same poison twice? She wasn’t so sure.