Deceived 15

Chapter 15

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Sponsored by LC. Thank you ❤️ (5/10)

***

Edmund stepped back, keeping his distance, only after dropping a meaningful piece of advice into Blair's ear. His eyes, now calm and still, shifted between hers before he gestured toward the door, as if to say she should go first.

"I'll leave you now."

Biting her lip, Blair hurried her steps, clutching the hem of her skirt. She had to force herself not to look back at the man standing behind her.

03. The trap

After returning from the clubhouse, Blair never once took out Edmund's sketch again, the one she had looked at daily. She didn't pick up a pencil to trace his facial lines, nor did she scrutinize it as if observing him whenever he came to mind.

Instead, her mind was filled with thoughts of him, but she consciously pushed them away, determined not to cross the line. She refused to acknowledge the feelings that had begun to cross that line that very night.

She must never see Edmund again. Even if she did, she must never be alone with him.

Blair sighed and lowered her gaze, reaffirming her resolve. She had visited the dressmaker in Fitzrovia again today for the wedding gown and had just finished the fitting.

"Now that the measurements are taken, I'll be going."

"Oh, Miss. You've been saying that several times already. You really should try on the sample dress."

"I already tried one on."

"No bride-to-be tries on just one sample dress! Not all wedding dresses are the same white. There's white with a blue tint, warm white..."

Blair tuned out the designer's spiel, staring impassively past the shop window. She recalled the day she went to get her ring sized. Hadn't it been just like this then? She'd thought it would be over quickly, but the endless explanations about shape and sheen…

Mrs. Norris, who had accompanied her, was not much help. Far from assisting Blair, she even chimed in with the designer's opinions.

Blair managed to compromise with them only by trying on three or four more dresses of different designs. Though the session had started in the morning, by the time she changed back into the dress she'd originally worn, it was midday and the sun was beating down quite hotly.

Blair, fumbling to grab her parasol and about to leave the dressing room, stopped in her tracks. Her attention was caught by a watercolor-like flyer on the reception table. The designer, noticing this, came over to make conversation.

"Oh, that. A guest left it behind. Apparently, there's a temporary exhibition at the art museum near the clock tower."

"I see."

Blair gazed at the blue-tinged flyer for a moment. She liked all the descriptions of artist Ogwiere’s exhibition: the river bathed in light, the waves just before midnight, the dawn mist, the ripples at dusk.

She soon bid farewell to the designer and left the costume shop. Getting into her car, she headed toward her next destination.

Quiet, where no one spoke to her, leaving her in peace, not too crowded, yet a place to view noble works of art. It was exactly Blair's taste.

***

As she had heard, the museum wasn't far from Clock Tower Square.

It was a two-story building that felt nearly twice as tall as ordinary structures, with marble columns supporting the floors and multiple arched decorations giving it a distinctly antique feel. The jade-green glistening gabled roof and the goddess statue were so captivating that it took her quite a while just to enter.

Climbing the stairs, Blair entered the spacious museum alone. It was an incredibly quiet space. She assumed this was natural given the facility's nature, but soon realized she was wrong upon seeing the velvet rope blocking the entrance to the exhibition hall.

"I'm sorry, Miss. The exhibition of Ogwiere 'River Bathed in Light' is scheduled to begin next week."

"So I can't view it today?"

"No."

Blair stood rooted to the spot, stunned by the unexpected news from the attendant. What a wasted trip. Who could she blame? It was her own fault for not reading the flyer carefully.

What now? Mrs. Norris, who had accompanied her, had excused herself to enjoy tea at a nearby salon, and Hamilton, the chauffeur, had already left, having promised to return by a set time. It was supposed to be a rare moment of solitude she had been looking forward to.

Since she couldn't call them back, she was contemplating whether to explore another exhibition in the museum.

"She’s my guest. Let her in."

A quiet command came from behind her. It was an unbelievably familiar voice.

"As you wish, Your Grace!"

The attendant guarding the exhibition hall stepped aside promptly without protest. He even removed the rope blocking the entrance, his attentiveness was almost excessive.

The sound of footsteps grew closer, steady and deliberate. Not wanting to show surprise, Blair turned a beat late to face the owner of the voice.

Edmund came into view, impeccably dressed as always. His dark teal jacket and vest, along with his perfectly composed expression showing no surprise at this sudden encounter, were characteristic of him.

"You came to see Ogwiere’s exhibition, Miss Twyford?"

“…Yes. That’s correct, Lord Liberte.”

"Excellent. I'll show you the way."

"No, I..."

Edmund stepped closer and gestured toward the exhibition hall.

“Shall we go?”

Blair hesitated, then finally took a step forward, gently gathering the hem of her skirt instead of answering. The sound of her shoes on the marble floor echoed through the spacious hall.

‘Haa….’

By now, it couldn't be a coincidence. One of them was undoubtedly following the other. Or perhaps they really were... destined.

Embarrassed by her wild thoughts, Blair gave a small cough. Her face felt slightly warm, as if scorched by the unusually hot spring sun. She hoped the man following behind wouldn't notice.

Then she realized she hadn't thanked him again. Even if the awkwardness from the clubhouse lingered, this was the greatest discourtesy she had ever committed against another person in her entire life. Wasn't he the one who had gotten her into the restricted exhibition hall?

Blair belatedly offered her thanks in a newly composed, polite voice.

"...My thanks are too late. Thank you. I keep forgetting unintentionally."

Edmund chuckled softly. He seemed to see right through the thinly veiled sincerity.

"You're pretending to know me? This is quite touching."

"Of course I know Lord Liberte."

"I thought you might be uncomfortable."

“…Ah.”

"You have an engagement, yet you spend private time with another man?"

His calm voice made Blair’s ears turn crimson.

“I, well, I suppose…”

“Miss Twyford, are you seriously stalking me?”

Blair couldn't hold back any longer and finally looked up at Edmund. The man, whose height difference meant she had to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes, was smiling with a twisted mouth.

"That's exactly what I'd like to say to you."

"Otherwise, it's hard to explain these repeated encounters. I don't know what brought you here, but this exhibition is sponsored by the art foundation where I serve as a director."

Blair shook her head in disbelief. So it wasn't just the exhibition dates she'd missed on the flyer?

"They say they promote my name more than the artist's. It's surprising you didn't know that."

"That's ridiculous..."

"So I can only assume it's the young lady who's following me around, not the other way around."

"It was a coincidence. I went for a dress fitting and saw the flyer advertising the exhibition, but it was just..."

"Just?"

“It seemed like it would suit my taste.”

Even to her own ears, it was a pathetic excuse. A moment of silence passed. Not long after, Edmund nodded as if he understood.

“Since you’re already here, please feel free to enjoy the exhibition. I’ll show you around.”

"By Lord Liberte himself?"

“Of course. At this point, I suppose our connection runs quite deep.”