Deceived 43

Chapter 43

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Sponsored by LC. Thank you ❤️ (6/7)

***

Blair carefully chose her words, her fingers wrapped around the teacup. The most effective lies, they say, are those mixed with truth.

"He... well, he certainly doesn't reveal his true feelings easily. But perhaps that's precisely why I found him so earnest. Once he sets his mind on something, he always follows through. That quality made him someone I could trust and follow."

"Hmm."

Isabelle hummed softly, then took another sip of tea. The clink of the cup filled the brief silence before she continued.

"That boy, you see, he's like a calculator—he understands exactly what others want. But does that truly come from his heart? It stems from his habit of weighing what he needs and how to get it."

"What you're saying is... so you think that's wrong, Madame?"

"It's not wrong. It's a useful talent for survival. But you, could you trust someone so calculating?"

It felt like a dagger to the heart, piercing the very core. It was a question that seemed to lay bare the very doubts Blair had once wrestled with. But she couldn't let herself be unsettled here, swept up in her rhythm.

"I actually saw it as an advantage I lacked."

Blair continued her answer, almost as if reciting a spell to reassure herself.

"I sometimes procrastinate, hesitating to make decisions, but he always reaches conclusions smartly and firmly. That seemed truly dependable, and above all, trustworthy."

"Yes, yes. You see the world through such pure eyes, perhaps because you're young."

Isabelle let out a short, hollow sigh, her expression fading. Her smile, bordering on arrogance, remained unshaken.

"I suppose it's fortunate you came to Eldenvale? Here, you see, it rains so often that rainbows rarely appear. It snaps you out of your illusions. I was like that too, you know."

Isabelle turned her gaze toward the window. Her eyes, fixed beyond the glass, seemed to briefly take on a light of recollection before returning to Blair.

"So, my dear, if living as the wife of an ambitious man becomes too much for you, remember this: I am the one here who understands you best."

The voice, cool as ice, lingered in her ears longer than usual. Blair lifted her teacup, smiling politely as Edmund had advised. The tea, barely touched, had grown cold.

****

07. The Ceremony

The wedding day finally arrived, less than a week after Blair had come to Eldenvale.

Standing by the window, Blair watched the guests make their way to the chapel in the garden. The wedding, the talk of the town, was to be private and small. It was surprising that the Duke of Liberte, the very model of nobility, had readily agreed to Edmund's request for a simplified ceremony, but thanks to that, it was a huge relief that the Doman family hadn't been invited.

Watching the guests gather one by one, the reality of the wedding finally sank in. They had only invited close relatives living in the Kingdom of Genoa, yet she felt this nervous. Was it because this was a sham marriage after all?

"You look very beautiful."

Blair turned at the sudden voice. It was a compliment from the young maid who always helped her dress.

"The dress suits you perfectly too."

...Was her name Milia? She was more the type to quietly do her work than be overly chatty, so they rarely had a chance to exchange pleasantries. Seeing Blair in the pristine white dress must have prompted her to speak up for once.

"Thank you."

Truthfully, it was the dress she had planned to wear for her wedding to Isaac Doman. She couldn't bring herself to say that, however, and instead gazed at the woman in the mirror. The ensemble, adorned with a veil, sparkling jewelry, and the wedding dress itself, was elegant and beautiful, but her expression didn't look particularly happy.

"It's time. I'll escort you to the chapel now."

Blair nodded instead of answering and began walking. Her gloved hands were frozen stiff with tension.

It was what she had expected. That she would meet an awkward face at the chapel door.

"...Father."

It was the Count of Twyford. He waited for her with an expression even colder than usual.

"Make no further mistakes."

And then came the warning, entirely as expected.

"You know how much criticism I've had to endure for this moment, don't you? For the sake of the family, ensure you present yourself as the flawless bride of the heir to Liberte."

Unlike his ice-cold fingertips, a fiery rage surged within her chest. His last action toward her had been locking her in her bedroom without a drop of water for defying his will. She hadn't wanted his apology, but how could he be so brazen?

"Your daughter's groom changed overnight. Are you truly unaffected?"

“…What?”

“Father surely couldn’t care less. You’ve already reaped your reward.”

“You, you lunatic…!”

“If you intend to slap the new bride, Father, that would be a poor choice.”

The chapel doors swung wide open the moment she finished speaking. Count Twyford's face flushed crimson as he desperately suppressed his rage. The father and daughter, who bore no resemblance to each other, soon walked into the hall where beautiful music was playing.

The guests' gazes instantly poured onto the bride. There couldn't have been more than a hundred people, yet the weight of dozens of times that many eyes pressed down on Blair's shoulders. Moving with heavy steps, she looked straight ahead.

Edmund stood in his black formal attire. His expression showed no hint of excitement, but even that was fitting. Blair, however, took each step clutching her heart, which fluttered with an indescribable emotion, until she could finally take his hand.

After the Count of Twyford stepped back, the two stood facing each other before the altar. The officiating priest began the ceremony in a solemn voice.

Even as they exchanged wedding rings, Blair could still convince herself she was holding up reasonably well. Her fingertips trembled slightly, but her mind wasn't clouded. Yet, the moment the priest pronounced them wed, everything grew hazy.

"Today, in the name of God and under the laws of Genoa, I declare these two people joined as husband and wife. The vows made here shall be etched into the history and traditions of the kingdom, and remain in the memory of all witnesses. This sacred bond shall be unbreakable."

The guests celebrated the union with thunderous applause. What must have sounded like the most reverent blessing to them sounded to Blair like the clinking of shackles being fastened.

How could divorce even be conceivable after swearing to such a terrifying marriage vow? Amidst a whirlwind of thoughts, the man facing her slowly lifted the veil.

Meeting that familiar gaze, Blair blinked. It was a look asking if she was ready. Even knowing it was part of the traditional ceremony, she couldn't help but swallow hard.

The face looking down at her drew closer, and their lips touched ever so lightly. Soft lips gently nipped her lower lip before releasing it. Before she could close her eyes, he stood back up. The simple kiss ended, and applause, louder than before, filled the air. Soon, the couple walked down the aisle, guests flanking them on either side. It was time for the reception.

"You must be nervous, but you're doing great."

"Really? I was just trembling like an idiot."

"Every bride trembles. It's fine. Just hang in there a little longer. It'll be over soon."

The voice coming from the man whose shoulder she leaned against sounded especially tender. Blair didn't reply further, only clutching Edmund's arm tightly. Her steps toward the banquet hall felt a little lighter.

***

"It's best to go easy on the alcohol."

Edmund said this to Blair as she stood hesitating before a table laden with refreshments and drinks. When she nodded in agreement, he poured non-alcoholic apple cider into a tall glass and handed it to her.

"Thank you. That's my favorite."

"I'm glad."

He then naturally led Blair to a nearby table and sat down. Blair glanced at the guests dancing in pairs or drinking, then whispered.

"Is it okay if we don't greet the guests?"

"It's fine. It's a hassle anyway, and whispering with the bride will make us look like a happy couple—it's actually an advantage."

"I suppose so."

"Of course, efficiency aside, sitting next to you is far more enjoyable than being with relatives."