Deceived 34

Chapter 34

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***

Disgrace? Blair, unable to even respond, bent down and picked up the newspaper lying on the floor. She read the neatly printed text.

Ambitious young lady, snags two men?

Last night's party at Bermond Gallery became the biggest sensation of the spring.

The host of the banquet, Edmund Roger Liberte, the Duke of Liberte's prominent heir, had finally introduced the object of his affection.

The audacious protagonist was the newly-turned-adult daughter of the Count of Twyford, who, astonishingly, was already engaged.

With her wedding to the sole heir of the Domans just days away, no one could tell if what she desired was true love or mere flirtation. Countless witnesses reported seeing her exchange affectionate whispers with Duke Liberte's illegitimate son, as if to flaunt it. The scene of Lord Liberte supporting her as she staggered drunkenly out of the gallery became the talk of many gossip circles.

The fate of the wedding 's' that Borsa's social circles were watching became even more uncertain after this gallery party.

Blair froze like a statue, gasping for breath. The smell of ink from the still-damp newspaper seemed to sting her nose. She never dreamed last night's events would be so exaggerated and preserved in print already.

"Rumors spread overnight."

Edmund had clearly warned her of this. She was prepared for the scandal linking them to circulate swiftly through the capital's social circles. But she hadn't anticipated it being exposed overnight in a gossip column and spreading across the entire kingdom.

Did Edmund know? No, even if he did, would it have made any difference? Blair, lost in endless thoughts, suddenly froze.

"The photograph..."

Her trembling hand traced the black-and-white image beneath the text. It was a side-angle shot of Edmund half-embracing her as he helped her into a car. It was one of those hazy memories, like mist, making her feel as if she were seeing someone else's face. Yet the woman in the photograph was unmistakably herself.

"I saw the Marquis of Doman this morning. He was furious. He raged about his reputation being utterly ruined, about annulling the engagement immediately. Do you even realize how much trouble your insane actions have caused our family?"

"......"

"His son suddenly fell ill yesterday and couldn't attend. Have you considered the humiliation he would have suffered had he been present?"

Blair, enduring her father's torrent of anger, pursed her lips before lifting her head. Something welled up deep within her chest.

"Lord Doman... exactly what did he say was wrong with him?"

“…What?”

“I have heard of his ailment. From Lord Doman himself. Did you know about it too, Father?”

The Count’s face twisted like crumpled paper. His fist clenched, and he slammed it hard onto the desk. The thud made Blair reflexively flinch.

"Have you truly gone mad like your mother? Listen carefully. The most crucial thing is that the betrothal to Doman is what sustains our family. Your reckless actions could destroy everything!"

"Then answer me. Did you know what state Isaac Doman was in? Did you know clearly, yet still want me to bear him many heirs?"

The Count of Twyford’s eyes flashed like a madman's. He stomped toward her, his hand raised menacingly. A sharp pain instantly shot across her cheek. A ringing sound echoed in her ears, momentarily robbing her of hearing.

Blair, gasping for breath, slowly turned her head. She clenched her teeth and stared straight at her father. For the first time in her life, she stood unshaken before that towering authority.

"...So in the end, my body was the only tool left to uphold the family name."

"This insolent brat!"

"Then do you not have a duty to protect it from blemish? To you, and to me."

The Count paused, his hand poised to strike once more. Blair did not flinch before her father's face, a crossroads of fury and shock.

"If I marry Lord Liberte instead of Isaac Doman, our family stands to gain more than it loses."

"You, you! That trashy gossip rag's claims are actually... You've lost your mind!"

"I don't know how much you know about Lord Doman, but if his illness is serious, he might struggle to produce an heir. Then it wouldn't be Doman’s name that falls, but Twyford’s. But Lord Liberte is different. He's a prominent heir to a ducal house and, at the very least, a man who values honor. Choosing him could be an opportunity, not a disgrace."

"Hey there! Butler! Guards!"

Before Blair could finish speaking, the Count of Twyford flung open the door and bellowed at the top of his lungs. Two male servants hurried over immediately. They had apparently been waiting nearby, already aware of the commotion inside the study.

"Take this wench to her bedroom immediately. Starve her all day and lock the door tight so she can't step outside."

"...Sir?"

"She's completely lost her mind. That look in her eyes—that wild, crazed glint—is the spitting image of her mother. She clearly consumed something other than wine last night."

The Count muttered as if possessed, then bellowed again.

"What are you waiting for! Take her away this instant!"

But the servants hesitated, unable to bring themselves to lay a hand on the young lady they served. In that moment, Blair watched her trembling father, then walked out of the study of her own accord. She climbed the stairs toward the second floor.

As she entered the bedroom, the lock clicked shut behind her. Feeling the heavy air settle, Blair sat down blankly on the bed. She couldn't identify this fiery emotion burning within her chest. The only thing vividly imprinted in her mind was the fear that had flashed across the Count’s face.

Why did he feel fear? What could possibly terrify her father?

...Yes. More than fearing the family's ruin, he was terrified by the realization that his once-docile daughter was no longer within his grasp. Blair was certain of that.

"Control is mostly an illusion."

She didn't know why Edmund's voice suddenly came to mind.

"Because even what you thought you held firmly in your hand is, in truth, no different from a wave that could slip away at any moment."

Was it because he was the first person in her life to leave such a profound lesson? Lost in thought, she collapsed onto the bed. Her head was spinning; she just wanted to close her eyes for a moment.

***

In the darkness draped over the bedroom, Blair opened her eyes, blinking. She turned her head to look out the window. It was already midnight, the full moon rising high. Having gone without food all day, her body felt heavy, sunk deep into the bed, making movement difficult. Soon, she realized what had woken her.

It was the sound of someone's footsteps, climbing the stairs slowly and walking down the hallway. The footsteps grew closer and stopped in front of the bedroom door. Soon, a knock broke the silence.

"Miss Twyford."

Blair didn't answer, remaining curled up where she lay. She only watched silently as shadows seeped through the crack beneath the door. She couldn't have been unaware of who owned that familiar low voice. For some reason, it didn't surprise her at all.

"I'll come in for a moment."

The low, subdued voice echoed from beyond the door. As if he knew she had been awake. There was a moment of clanking metal outside, then a sliver of light seeped through the slowly opening door. Only then did Blair sit up in bed. She watched Edmund shuffle in, silently observing him.

"You were awake."

Did this man only know how to appear like a savior? She thought this as she drew a breath. It was the first time in her life she'd greeted a guest looking so disheveled, but what did it matter?

After all, she would be his wife for at least a year.

"I wish I had come sooner. I'm sorry."

"...What are you doing here?"

"I spoke with Miss Twyford’s father about today's article. He acknowledged that to contain the scandal, he had no choice but to use my name. He also agreed to my marriage to the young lady."

Blair quietly lowered her gaze. The thought of her father, who had treated her like a madwoman and raged against her, suddenly agreeing to her marriage to Edmund like flipping a palm, made her unable to even laugh.

"I didn't mention our agreement, of course, but to take the young lady away, I needed to clarify my responsibility."

"...So you agreed to cover the financial losses from the annulment with Lord Doman."

"Yes. I requested a contract be drawn up regarding this matter, and after each party signed their copy, I handed them over to prevent any future disputes. If you feel uneasy, I could share it with Miss Twyford as well..."

Blair suddenly burst into a hollow laugh, and Edmund stopped speaking. Only a humorless echo scattered through the bedroom. Her expression, turned away from the light, was difficult to discern.

"In just half a day... It was that simple, was it?"

She added in a whisper.

"Just as you said, Father has granted permission for the marriage. As if you were the only option left."

"......"

"So, Lord Liberte, what exactly brought you here?"

"Now that the engagement is settled, I thought it safest to keep you by my side from this point on."

“You came to take me away?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go.”

Blair nodded, fully rising to her feet and planting both feet on the ground. Edmund, who had been staring at her blankly, asked quietly.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

She wasn't sure exactly what he meant by "be okay." Was he referring to her completely twisted relationship with her father, the broken engagement with Doman, the uncertain life awaiting her, or all of it?

Blair, who had been pulling a suitcase from the wardrobe, turned to look at him.

"I just hope... all of this was worth it."