Deceived 50

Chapter 50

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Sponsored by LC. Thank you ❤️ (2/6)

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“Come here, Blair.”

Before Isaac could hold her gaze for long, Edmund wrapped his arm around her shoulder. His grip, pulling her gently toward him, held a surprising amount of strength.

“You should greet the host.”

“Ah.”

Just then, a young man who had been laughing and chatting with guests a few steps away glanced over at Edmund and brightened. It was the Marquis of Lancaster, the host of the hunting party.

“I thought you wouldn’t come since you’re newlyweds, but look who it is. Isn’t this the next Duke of Liberte?”

Edmund chuckled at the blunt title. Seeing them shake hands lightly and bump shoulders, they seemed quite close.

"Why didn't you invite me to your wedding? I missed out on a chance to party and drink at such a grand celebration."

“I told you several times it was a small, informal ceremony with only family. This is my wife, Lady Liberte.”

Blair had no time to be flustered by the awkward introduction. A sly, unmatched smile played on the stranger’s lips as his gaze shifted to her.

“Lady Liberte.”

“Pleased to meet you, Marquis of Lancaster.”

"Call me Alexander. And your name, madam?"

"The journey has tired my new bride. I would like to be shown to the bedroom now."

Edmund gently stopped the Marquis as he reached for the back of Blair's hand to kiss it. The host beckoned a servant with a wave of his hand, and the two were soon shown to the guest room where they would stay for the next two days.

***

Left alone with Edmund, away from the unfamiliar faces, Blair felt a momentary sense of relief. But another obstacle arose.

"Surely I don't have to share a bedroom with you?"

"I seem to hear that question quite often."

Edmund replied as he took off his coat.

"Unfortunately, yes. The host didn't provide separate bedrooms. Attending external gatherings together is a marital duty, so sharing a bedroom is unavoidable, wouldn't you agree?"

"......"

"I'll sleep in the armchair. For two days, that's the best option."

Edmund added, glancing at Blair’s expression, which couldn’t hide her bewilderment. Then, as if it were nothing, he undid the cufflinks on his wrist and began to take off his shirt. Blair, who had been staring blankly at the solid chest revealed through the fluttering fabric, suddenly flushed bright red.

"What... are you doing right now?"

"As you can see, I'm changing clothes."

His obvious reply came back at the stupid question. His expression seemed to say, what's the problem with changing clothes to go hunting? Blair quickly turned away. She couldn't believe the man was changing clothes so casually in front of her.

A rebuke—to warn her before stripping unexpectedly—stuck in her throat. She was too flustered. No, could such a rebuke even be possible? They were people who had seen everything about each other. Yet, because they had drawn a line in their relationship, the boundaries remained ambiguous.

The rustle of fabric ceased, and the sound of footsteps shuffling closer behind her reached her ears. Blair shrugged her shoulders and spoke hurriedly.

"Are you all changed?"

"Thanks to your kind consideration, madam."

Blair whipped her head around, raising an eyebrow. Edmund was buttoning the last button of his shirt, a faint smile playing between his lips.

"Of course, not the trousers yet."

"Edmund."

"Miss Blair."

"What are you trying to do? Do you intend to act like a married couple even when we're alone?"

"No. Did you forget I said I'd sleep in the armchair?"

"Didn't you think I'd be flustered if you stripped without warning? We're not a real couple, just bound by contract."

When she deliberately repeated his words clearly, Edmund laughed aloud.

"I know. I just wanted to see Miss Blair flustered."

She let out a hollow laugh, utterly flabbergasted. Edmund picked up the trousers to change into and gestured toward the screen.

"I'll finish changing and be right back. If I change my trousers here too, my fake wife might faint."

"Do that. While I'm putting on my dress behind the screen, I'd appreciate it if you didn't watch."

"Of course. Call me anytime if you need help."

"I won't need any."

The sharp retort seemed to make his face twitch with amusement even behind the screen. Blair fanned her flushed cheeks with her hand, waiting for her turn. She couldn't stop her heart from racing wildly.

***

"Hunting? How barbaric. Honestly, men must have no pity for animals."

"Of course. What kind of gentleman would he be otherwise?"

"Still, Lady Hoffman would be delighted if her husband caught a red fox and made her a scarf."

The ladies' affected voices burst out in a cackle from the drawing room set up in the villa. Blair, sitting demurely at the table, rarely joined the conversation, merely sipping her tea. Still, she had just encountered a welcome face.

"The Countess of Gillingham."

It was the Countess she had met at the gallery party. Though she claimed to be unfamiliar with the common language due to her foreign origins, she actually spoke it fluently. She tended to shy away from speaking, feeling self-conscious about her lingering accent. Blair found conversing with her perfectly natural.

"You mentioned you came from a country called Brucken."

"That's right."

"What kind of place is it?"

"It's always warm. They say it's a land beloved by painters because its colors change with each season. Ogwiere was born there and spent his youth there."

"The painter Ogwiere? Not long ago, my husband... hosted an exhibition where I was very impressed by his work."

The Countess smiled, her face showing both shyness and pride. Blair could no longer hide her curiosity.

"In Brucken, art is part of daily life. On sunny afternoons, people gather in the ateliers to drink wine and paint. Quite a few ladies even exhibit their work."

"How fascinating. I thought that was only possible as a hobby."

"It's an era where artworks become money. I even met my husband, the Earl of Gillingham, through such transactions."

Indeed, paintings could function as a means to multiply wealth. They weren't merely decorations or symbols of refinement; they could be traded like currency. Hadn't she witnessed a single canvas sell for tens of thousands of flangs at that secret auction house she'd visited before? The buyer, of course, was Edmund—a man who never suffered a loss.

'One year after the contract ends...'

For a moment, a distant future scene flashed before her eyes, with Edmund standing within it. Blair shook her head sharply, banishing his lingering image. Life was hers alone, and plans must be made by her alone. Though it still felt like a distant future, if she carefully laid out her plans for a year from now, it couldn’t be bad. It was fortunate the man had decisively distanced himself.

‘Since Brucken is a country that mixes common languages, it might not be so bad after all….’

"Come to think of it, there are quite a few newlyweds here, aren't there?"

One lady, covering her mouth with an "Oh my," glanced around and remarked.

"Lady Liberte, and Lady Hoffman too. And though Lady Feinberg has been married over a month, she's practically a new bride, right?"

"Well then, shall we take turns bragging about our husbands?"

"Yes!"

The women clapped their hands excitedly. Blair was seized by an urge to flee immediately, but she couldn't possibly commit such a socially inept act, so she merely swallowed hard. Her dignity was Edmund's dignity. In society, a husband's reputation was upheld through his wife's words.

"Let's start with Lady Hoffman sitting over here."

"It would be an honor. As for my husband, Earl Hoffman, he is a splendid gentleman who will become the esteemed Earl of Hoffman next month. He handles a gun with great skill and writes with truly elegant handwriting..."

"Are you implying your husband has a deft touch?"

"Oh my."

Amidst the hellish atmosphere of everyone's cackling laughter, Blair recalled Edmund's virtues. Of course, he was a man with many praiseworthy qualities, but the virtues Blair knew were rather intimate and private, not things she particularly wished to share with others. The firm hands that caught her when she stumbled, that kind of thoughtful care, and the way he’d occasionally smile like a boy at play.

So, she tried to recite some socially acceptable praise. What could it be? Flattery was easy enough, so she must think of something quickly.

“It’s finally Lady Liberte’s turn!”

"Truthfully, we were most curious about you. Now that we've laid out the cushion, would you care to boast about your husband to your heart's content?"

Her mind went completely blank. Praying that Edmund was busy shooting his gun at the hunting grounds right now, Blair began to blurt out whatever came to mind.