Chapter 24
More often than not, anarchists were people who had lost everything. Coincidentally, five years earlier, the Baron Vanderberg household had been reduced to poverty, and three years ago, an epidemic had claimed every remaining member of the family except Irene Vanderberg.
She had every reason to resent the world. Recently, it had become increasingly common for anarchists to conceal their beliefs and infiltrate noble households as employees. Stable hands. Guards. Maids. Even governesses…
They filled decent people’s heads with dangerous ideas, sowed discord within noble families, sold confidential information, and in the worst cases, committed acts of terrorism. There had already been several cases of infiltrators caught selling intelligence or plotting crimes.
At first, Dominic had assumed she was merely an unpleasant woman. But when this many suspicious signs piled up, he could no longer dismiss them as coincidence.
At first light, he intended to have the pond searched once again.
“Why did you come outside at this hour?”
“Pardon? I just took too long of a nap, so I came out for a walk…”
Answering honestly, Irene suddenly stopped and looked up at him.
His sapphire-blue eyes were filled with unmistakable suspicion. The Duke of Whitmore had already decided she was a subversive.
“Your Grace.”
Irene’s voice grew noticeably calmer.
“It doesn’t seem like you have any intention… of listening to anything I say.”
An uneasy silence settled between them. Looking down at her through narrowed eyes, the man slowly curled his lips into a crooked smile.
“So you’re going to make excuses?”
“I’m not the kind of person you think I am, Your Grace.”
“Everyone says that until they’re sitting in an interrogation room.”
His chilling reply made her flinch.
She couldn’t let herself be falsely branded an anarchist and dragged away like this. The city guard was already conducting an aggressive crackdown on subversives. And that wasn’t even the worst part.
The accuser wasn’t some ordinary citizen — it was the Duke of Whitmore. Forget a proper defense. They might skip the investigation altogether and march her straight to the gallows.
“At the very least, I’d like to know why you became suspicious of me in the first place. Are you seriously accusing me over a few dime novels? If you investigate, you’ll find I have absolutely no connection whatsoever with people like that.”
Irene did everything she could to reason with him.
“And this… yes, this is simply my hobby. Of course, I completely understand that, from Your Grace’s perspective, it’s the trashiest of trash. But well, once people get exposed to this kind of thing, they stop noticing where the line is. The stories keep getting more and more explicit, and eventually this is the only level that’s entertaining enough to read…”
If the alternative was being hanged as an anarchist, Irene would much rather be branded a hopeless degenerate.
“And after a while, something like this just starts to feel normal. So I recommended it to Miss Chloe because I thought she’d enjoy it too…”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry! Please believe me. I never had any ulterior motive!”
With desperate sincerity, Irene bowed her head and pleaded. Damn it…
“I thought you said you didn’t buy the book yourself.”
“No! I did buy it myself! The cover was removed because it was banned for being too explicit, so I had to get it through unofficial channels! I lied at first because I was embarrassed! I have absolutely nothing to do with anarchists or anyone like that. I just… like dirty books. That’s all!”
A dumbfounded sigh drifted down from above her. She had sacrificed not only her pride but practically her dignity as a woman. Please, let this be enough.
But the Duke of Whitmore was relentless.
“Fine. Let’s say you’re nothing more than a hopeless pervert. Then answer me this. The other night, and again tonight — why did you leave the annex after dark?”
The pervert known as Irene took a deep breath.
“Whether today or the other night, it was obvious that you were uncomfortable around me.”
I can’t tell him that… Not if my life depends on it…
“Is taking a walk at night… forbidden at the Whitmore estate…?”
“Stop dodging the question. I spent five years in the army from the age of eighteen. I’ve seen more suspicious people than I can count.”
Wrongly accused as she was…
Maybe the gallows wouldn’t be so bad after all.
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