Deceived 38

Chapter 38

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Upon entering the mansion, Blair had no time to properly survey the interior. Isabelle Liberte, the noble duchess who claimed royal blood from her maternal lineage, wished to meet him immediately.

The fact that no one came out to greet him made it clear he was not welcome. She had heard rumors and vaguely guessed as much. Born a bastard, yet made heir to the title despite the legitimate eldest son being alive. So, what must Isabelle and his half-brother's gaze toward Edmund be like? Anyone not a fool would understand.

With each step he took, a loud echo reverberated throughout the space. Thanks to that, her tense, trembling breaths wouldn't be heard in an embarrassing way. As they passed the portraits lining both walls, Edmund spoke up.

"My mother... she shares not a drop of my blood and is aristocratic to the bone. She rarely speaks plainly. She prefers to wrap her compliments and insults in silk before delivering them. "

"......"

"So when dealing with her, it's best to just laugh it off or give a measured response."

"The Duchess is no fool. Is that really advisable? Mightn't it provoke her anger...?"

"My point is, don't try to interpret her intentions. It's utterly pointless."

Unraveling the hidden depths of others was a habit of Blair’s, and already her mind had gone blank. Edmund, who had left behind words that could be either a warning or advice, soon stood before the drawing room door. He paused, gazing down at Blair intently, then raised his hand and knocked.

“I heard you called for me.”

"Come in."

A slightly elevated tone of voice granted entry. Blair quietly stepped into the space filled with a potent fragrance.

Isabelle sat on a velvet sofa positioned to face the door directly, like a throne. The middle-aged duchess was elegantly beautiful, her age scarcely believable. Her appearance contributed to this, but her attire played a significant role in creating an air of refinement. She wore sparkling jewels on every part of her body where accessories could be worn. The blue eyes fixed on Blair were as sharp as the brilliance of the jewels Isabelle wore.

"You've come. That girl is probably...?"

"Allow me to introduce her. My fiancée, Miss Blair of the Twyford family."

Blair immediately demonstrated manners ingrained like a tattoo, curtsying while holding the hem of her dress. She avoided holding Isabelle’s gaze for long, lightly bowing her head and lowering her voice demurely.

"It is a great honor to meet the Duchess."

"Oh? This is different from what I expected."

Isabelle deliberately widened her eyes and covered her mouth with her hand before rummaging around on the round table and pulling something out. A quick glance revealed it was photographs of women dressed in elaborate gowns.

"Let's see. Not Archibald, not Vanderbilt. Not Brown, not Macdow... Not Howell either?"

"I believe I mentioned Twyford just a moment ago, Mother."

"You may leave for now. I specifically requested to see only your fiancée. Has the butler's hearing finally failed him?"

"Is there such urgent business that you summoned only my fiancée before I've even unpacked my bags?"

"I was merely curious. I heard she surpassed all the other candidates your father selected, so I wondered how remarkable she might be. But seeing her in person..."

Isabelle slowly scanned Blair from head to toe.

"Where did you say she was from?"

Blair bowed her head again in response to the Duchess's question.

"From northern Glasford, milady. It's an estate long held by the Twyford family."

"How simple. Simplicity can be a virtue. Perhaps she's just the bride for you, Edmund. Though, whether she'll be fit for the position of mistress of the duke's household... that remains to be seen."

"If the introductions are complete, I shall take my leave. I see no need to hear more."

"How dare you interrupt your elders? Is that the etiquette taught at Longwood, that most prestigious private school?"

"I have no memory of being taught such manners at home, so I can only act as I was taught at school."

The tension between the unrelated mother and son grew palpable. Blair couldn't lift her head, which remained bowed in submission. She felt the back of her neck stiffening.

"I read the most amusing article, you know."

At that moment, Isabelle pulled out a newspaper, forcing a smile. Blair kept her head bowed, only her eyes darting. Sure enough, it was the newspaper article that had spun a scandalous tale about her drunken state at the gallery party.

"Is it true? That you were engaged to the son of the Marquis of Doman ?"

"...It is true."

"Then you must have gone through a broken engagement. In society, isn't that called a disgrace?"

Edmund started to walk away, as if it wasn't worth listening to any further, but Blair didn't move. Her toes curled with tension.

"I do not consider it a disgrace, Madame."

"What did you just say?"

"One should not speak ill of a former fiancé, but I did face hardship because of it. Perhaps it was my own fault for being indecisive. It was then that Lord Liberte appeared and took my hand."

Isabelle's brows knitted tightly, as if hearing something unexpected. Should she continue? Edmund hadn't stopped her, so Blair went on in a clear voice.

"That became our bond, leading us to marriage. Because Lord Liberte never saw me as a trinket or a chess piece."

The Duchess frowned deeply, glaring at the air as if to say that was the most foolish and idiotic thing imaginable.

"Well, well. You two have managed to pull off something quite unbecoming of modern nobility. You make a picture-perfect pair. I wish you a long and lasting bond."

"Thank you for your concern, Duchess."

"It would be rude to keep a guest too long, wouldn't it? You may go now."

"We look forward to your continued kindness."

Blair bowed her head, bending at the knees as she had done when first greeting her. Edmund, without even a farewell to Isabelle, flung open the door and stepped out into the hallway.

Only after they were sufficiently far from the drawing room did he stop walking, and Blair exhaled sharply as if she’d been holding her breath. She’d avoided collapsing from the sudden loss of strength in her knees only because she’d been clutching Edmund’s arm tightly since some point.

“…Um, was I perhaps being rash?”

“No. It wasn’t bad.”

Edmund added, studying Blair's expression.

"Only today would my mother have considered Miss Blair a relatively non-threatening presence."

"Because I made an unaristocratic remark?"

"Yes."

Blair lowered her eyes, feeling slightly confused. So should she be pleased, or should she feel insulted...? Edmund had once said he didn't need a model wife. So did that mean she was doing well?

"At least it didn't cause any trouble. I suppose we should be relieved about that."

"It's too soon to relax, but for now, yes. More importantly, I should show you to your quarters first. This way, Miss Blair."

Edmund led her toward the staircase leading upstairs. After following him for a while, she was shown into a spacious bedroom. The room, with its view of dense coniferous forests beyond the window, featured impressive antique decorations.

"What a beautiful bedroom."

"I'm glad you like it. You'll be staying here alone until the wedding, so if anything is uncomfortable, please let me know anytime."

Blair paused mid-glance around the room at the meaningful remark, turning her head. She met Edmund's eyes, as if to confirm her doubtful thoughts.

"Then after the wedding...?"

"You'll be staying with me in the master bedroom."