Deceived 54

Chapter 54

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“There seems to be a stream nearby.”

“I can really hear the sound of water. But… oh! Ma’am?”

The servant following Blair couldn’t hide his bewilderment. Blair stopped walking and turned to him with a puzzled look. The young servant, who didn’t look particularly trustworthy, was said to be the son of the villa’s cook.

"What is it?"

"I'm terribly sorry, ma'am. I'm certain I put it in my pocket, but I must have dropped the firecracker on the way here."

He confessed, his expression almost tearful.

"If you find your husband but fail to win the bet because of my stupid mistake... I'm truly sorry."

"It's fine. It's not that big of a mistake..."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'll carefully retrace my steps and look for it again."

Blair sighed, pressing her hand to her forehead.

"Actually, it'd be quicker to ask the gamekeeper for another one."

“…Ah! I’ll go get it right now!”

The servant spun around and began running back the way he’d come. Watching his retreating figure, Blair let out a helpless laugh before turning her head back toward the sound of flowing water nearby.

She wondered if Edmund was over there. She didn’t care about winning the bet, but it would be nice to see him.

Passing through waist-high wildflower bushes, a narrow stream came into view. Sunlight streaming through the leaves shattered on the water's surface, sparkling, while fallen leaves carried by the gentle breeze floated lazily along. Blair smiled as she approached the stream. 

Bending down and stretching out her arm, a cool stream of water enveloped her palm. It was a pleasant sensation.

Then, a rustling sound came from across the stream. Startled, Blair looked up. It wasn't a bird taking flight or a small animal scurrying away, but the sound of someone stepping on branches or something similar.

'Who's there?'

She widened her eyes and scanned the surroundings, but the source of the sound remained unseen. Maybe she'd misheard. Just as she was turning away, vaguely concluding it was nothing, a cold, metallic clang echoed through the air.

Blair froze like a statue. She stood still, her body frozen in the position she’d been about to take a step, blinking. Then, with a struggle, she turned her head to look in the direction the sound had come from. Her heart sank. It was a familiar face.

“…Lord Doman?”

Isaac Doman. The man who had been her fiancé. He stood across the stream, aiming a rifle at Blair. His face was dark with displeasure. This didn't bode well.

"Lord Doman, what... what are you doing?"

Isaac Doman didn't answer, still keeping the muzzle trained on her. His gaze was no different from that of a hunter who had finally spotted and aimed at long-pursued prey. Cold sweat beaded on Blair's temples. What on earth was he thinking?

Then Isaac approached, maintaining his aiming stance. One step, then another. Blair could only watch as he closed the distance, swallowing dryly. Her legs beneath the dress began to tremble violently.

The men didn't know Blair had entered the hunting ground. Even though she'd changed into a bright yellow dress, if something happened to her because of Isaac, who could tell if it was a case of mistaken identity or intentional?

The muzzle was now inches from Blair's nose. Isaac Doman watched her tremble like a quivering aspen for a moment. Then he twisted one corner of his mouth upward and smiled.

"Miss Twyford. Or should I call you Lady Liberte now?"

"...If you haven't made a mistake, please put the gun away."

"You look like you're about to faint, yet you're stiff as a board."

Isaac muttered cynically, deliberately lowering the gun slowly. Blair took a quick step back, alert. Only then did her breath come in ragged gasps.

"Lord Doman, what on earth is this?"

"And what are you doing out in this dangerous hunting ground, young lady? Shouldn't you be sipping tea quietly at the villa? What if you got shot? Why venture into the men's domain?"

"I'll be leaving now."

Her instinct told her she shouldn't continue talking with someone who was hostile toward her, weapon in hand. As she grabbed her skirt hem and turned to go, a strong grip seized Blair's shoulder hard. A groan escaped her involuntarily.

"Ah...!"

"I'm not finished talking."

"Let go of me!"

Isaac's lips twisted.

"So happy being Lady Liberte, are you?"

"Didn't you hear me say let go?"

"How did it feel to switch to another man overnight, like changing carriages?"

Isaac's eyes, suddenly stripped bare, glinted with fury. Within those bloodshot orbs, embers flared from paranoia and resentment.

"You ruined my life, then showed up as Lady Liberte. Was that so enjoyable? You're prepared to pay the price, right?"

His grip tightened, threatening to crush her slender shoulders. Blair writhed in pain and struggled, but the man, much larger than her, wouldn't budge. She shook her head desperately.

"I... don't understand. I never ruined anyone's life, nor did I ever have to take responsibility for anything. My choices were always for my own life!"

"How dare you spout such shameless nonsense!"

"Shouldn't you look at yourself first, Lord Doman?"

At that question, the color drained from Isaac's face before flushing bright red. It was clear he was furious, unable to tolerate defiance.

"Shut your mouth, Twyford...!"

Isaac hurled her aside with a cracked voice. Blair tumbled onto the grass, scrambling to push herself up, but froze stiff as he thrust the muzzle toward her. Pale, she began backing away slowly, inch by inch.

"You dared to defile my name, our family name. You gave me an indelible shame, and now you trample me under the name of Liberte?"

"Don't, don't do this, Lord Doman. This very moment could ruin your life."

"Don't you dare lecture me. You were my fiancée. You must pay the price for climbing into another man’s bed overnight and making a mockery of me."

"Come to your senses...! Were you ever honorable to me? What about Miss Nicoletta Underhill? She...!"

Isaac, half out of his mind, seemed oblivious to Blair's voice.

"Lady Liberte? Don't make me laugh!"

Click. The metallic sound of the trigger's safety being disengaged rang in her ears. Blair spun around and scrambled away on her knees, crawling like a child. Her yellow dress had long since been ruined by mud and fallen leaves.

It was then.

A dull, grinding sound like something exploding echoed behind her. Blair curled into a ball, frozen stiff as ice where she was. The terrifying footsteps shuffling closer were no longer audible. Covered in mud, she lay flat on the ground, gasping for breath before turning to look back.

Isaac lay sprawled in a heap, half-collapsed. He didn't move at all, clearly completely unconscious. And before her stood a large shadow, that man so familiar, planted firmly on his feet.

Edmund, sensing Blair's gaze, turned around. He muttered something that sounded like a curse under his breath, then hurried over. He then took off his hunting coat and draped it carelessly over Blair's shoulders. The large coat enveloped her entire body, and warm body heat seeped in.

The Marquis of Lancaster, who must have been nearby, heard the commotion and rushed over, urgently calling for guards. He seemed quick-witted, grasping the situation without needing a lengthy explanation. Edmund glanced at him, then knelt on one knee before Blair.

"Are you hurt? Can you move?"

He didn't ask Blair, who had appeared unexpectedly at the hunting grounds, what she was doing here. Blair quickly nodded.

"I'm fine. I'm not hurt."

Edmund, who didn't seem entirely convinced, scanned her face before slipping his hands under her thighs and hoisting her up. He began trudging steadily down the forest path. Buried in his broad embrace, Blair gasped for breath before glancing sideways. Passing Isaac, who lay sprawled with his back bent double, she cautiously spoke up.

"How did Lord Doman..."

"Later, Blair."

Before she could continue, she was cut off.

"Forget useless names. Finding your footing comes first now."