Deceived, yet still drawn to you · 14. October 2025

Deceived 28

Chapter 28

***

And that from someone who spends all day buried in bed. Though she didn't voice the rest aloud, Isabelle dismissed Albert with a dismissive nod.

"See to it those women are sent to the capital without delay."

"...Understood."

The Duchess watched the departing old butler for a moment, her gaze clearly disdainful. Albert had served since the previous duke, making him the longest-residing person at Eldenvale. His considerable influence within the mansion, coupled with his unusual leniency toward the thorn-in-her-side Edmund, had long been a source of irritation.

Still, she couldn't simply dismiss a long-serving loyalist of Liberte. She needed to lean on the duke's authority sooner rather than later.

Pressing her throbbing forehead, Isabelle began walking toward the bedroom where the noise had come from. It was the bedroom of her beloved son, Rufus.

What immediately met Isabelle's eyes as she crossed the threshold was not shards of glass scattered messily across the floor, but her son, pitifully curled up on the bed. Rufus couldn't lift his drooping gaze.

"My son."

"...Mother..."

A crimson flush spread across the face of the son who lifted his head. He bore a striking resemblance to Isabelle's beauty, possessing delicate, refined features. His entire countenance radiated a sensitive nature, as if it might scatter at the slightest gust of wind.

His physical issues were also said to be inherited from his mother's side. Isabelle, who had once endured excruciating difficulties conceiving, closed her eyes tightly before opening them again and placing a hand on Rufus's shoulder.

"It's alright. How could those utterly vulgar women possibly comfort you? Let's find another way."

"It's not their fault. It's me."

Rufus muttered in a voice thick with frustration.

"It just won't work. No matter what I try..."

They had traveled all the way to the mysterious Eastern land of Lorschach for every conceivable treatment, but nothing worked. Isabelle knew this well too, having tried every avenue for infertility treatment. There was no perfect cure for a broken sexual function.

"That bastard Edmund, I hear he's out every night, changing women like socks, enjoying the high life..."

Rufus muttered, almost to himself, a flash of anger flaring in his eyes.

"And what have I been doing, stuck in Eldenvale all these years? Even if a herd of naked women stormed into my bed, I couldn't do anything."

"Calm down, Rufus."

"But it won't happen! No matter what woman they bring me, it's useless...!"

Isabelle pressed her hand firmly on Rufus's agitated shoulder.

"Lower your voice, unless you intend to broadcast that fact to the entire world. Even if this is our domain, we must be careful. We mustn't make a single sound that could reach their ears."

"Then what am I supposed to do? With my problem like this, I'm about to be pushed out of the line of succession!"

"You are my son. Even if the heavens fall, the fact that you are Liberte’s rightful heir remains unchanged."

Isabelle's voice held not a hint of wavering.

"If anyone dares threaten your position without knowing their place, it's best to leave them no room to breathe."

"You mean... Edmund?"

"Anyone. Of course, I needn't name the one who must be dealt with first, do I?"

Isabelle gently stroked the slumped shoulder of the exhausted Rufus. Rufus glared into the void, clenching his teeth.

"That bastard... I heard rumors he's getting married soon. They say even the eldest daughter of the Marquis of Archibald is being mentioned as a potential bride."

"He's trying to solidify his position. He's always been that kind of man, scrambling since childhood to climb to places he could never reach. It's obvious what that ambition-filled mind of his is scheming."

"If Edmund is plotting something, shouldn't we stop him before it's too late?"

"You're right, Rufus. My wise son. If we wait too long, his roots will grow deep and become difficult to uproot."

Isabelle’s gaze darkened as she stared out the window, now shrouded in black curtains.

"But you see. There's no need to use a sword to bring a man down."

Rufus offered no reply. He merely bit his lip hard, then leaned against his mother's embrace. A strange bond deepened as the mother and son remained silent for a long while.

***

It was a weekend afternoon in spring, the season at its peak. Chiles, the most prosperous residential district in the capital city of Borsa, was peaceful as ever. It was so quiet and leisurely that recent events felt like distant memories.

Edmund, impeccably dressed even on his day off, gazed through the window at the clear avenue lined with trees and the lake park. Though he appeared relaxed, his mind was entirely occupied by one face.

Blair's face, transparent enough to see straight through, always held a mix of humiliation, confusion, and a tiny spark of defiance. Igniting that spark wasn't difficult. Once it burned, deciding where to channel that heat was also his responsibility.

Edmund merely pointed the way. To make Blair doubt the shackles binding her, to find her own escape. The woman would eventually break her once-steel resolve.

Wasn't that rather clever? It was almost miraculous how this woman had appeared before him, as if destined. Imperfect, she was perfect for him.

Survival in aristocratic society was simple: either push forward with the cards you held, or seize better ones. Born without noble birth, Edmund was more accustomed to the latter.

He judged Blair to be a better card. He intended to gladly exploit the boldness hidden beneath her naivety and her decisiveness to turn crisis into opportunity.

He showered her with flattery as if awakening her, but in truth, it was little more than exploitation. What harm could there be if mutual benefit was assured? As long as the outcome was favorable, the means mattered little. That was Edmund's firm belief.

Even if Blair didn't take his hand, he had nothing to lose. He could always forge another path.

Then, as he basked in the sunny weather, Edmund's eyes caught someone approaching from afar. A woman wearing a wide-brimmed hat that obscured half her face and a fluttering, deep-hued dress. The very woman who had filled his mind moments before was walking toward his townhouse.

Nervousness was visible on her face as she moved slowly, checking each house number one by one. A subtle blend of tension and excitement mingled within her, and the way sunlight and shadow alternately washed over her face each time she lifted or lowered her head was particularly captivating.

Edmund slowly lifted the corners of his mouth. He was satisfied that her hesitant yet determined stride, steadily closing the distance, was exactly as he had anticipated. After all, someone who finally takes that step after much deliberation is always easy to catch.

Thus, Edmund remained motionless, leaning against the window frame. He waited leisurely, stealing glimpses of every moment where the woman's hesitation and resolve crossed paths. He waited silently, watching for Blair to knock on the door, for the moment it opened, to witness her resolve and pull her completely to his side. Six steps left to this spot, five, four... With each number that fell away, her hesitation peeled away.

Soon, the heavy sound of the door knocker, not the doorbell, broke the silence of Chiles. Edmund glanced down briefly at Blair standing before the door, then turned and left the study.

He descended the stairs and, grasping the iron handle, swung the entrance door open. Blair's bright eyes fluttered slightly as their gazes met through the opening.

Though her face had seemed quite composed while waiting for the door to open, as if she'd gathered her breath, she couldn't help but tense up upon facing him directly. Or perhaps it was anticipation.

"When I asked you to come to my quarters, I thought you'd be scared stiff and run away."

Edmund, too, made no effort to hide the amusement in his voice. Blair bit her lower lip hard.