Deceived 72

Chapter 72

***

My wife. 

The possessive title made Blair's heart race. That deep voice sounded almost obsessive.

Blair stared blankly at the man who had held her tightly in his arms and pushed her until late into the night. The man who never let go, even as she writhed between ecstasy and agony, screaming. 

She had first kindled the flame of his desire, but it was Edmund who had driven into her with terrifying force, teaching her the hard way that provocation could lead to a bloody nose. His face, consumed by that relentless instinct, the face she had only ever imagined.

Yet the Edmund before her now was composed, all desire shed. Not a trace remained of the man who had devoured her the night before. Was it only his outward appearance? From the moment they met that early morning, his 

demeanor seemed subtly distant, drawing a line as before.

‘...I thought we’d grown closer.’

Blair still vividly remembered his breath and body heat from the night before. She believed that if it were truly a relationship devoid of any emotion, it couldn't have burned so fiercely or left her so parched. She had believed that the solid wall, barely visible, erected between them, had crumbled just a little.

So, hearing his declaration to judge Isaac Doman felt like cold water being poured over her rosy hopes. After all, pointing a gun at her was tantamount to threatening his dignity. To ignore such a threat would make him a laughingstock. His sharpening of the blade stemmed less from caring for and protecting Blair, and more from a calculated desire to preserve his own face and authority.

"Blair."

Edmund, who had been watching her with a persistent gaze, was staring intently. Startled, Blair quickly shook off any flicker of unease that might have shown on her face.

"Is there something you wish to say?"

"...No."

When she shook her head in denial, he thankfully didn't press further. He merely met Blair's eyes for a few seconds before turning his head back to the window. The morning sunlight made his face glint sharply.

Far beyond the car window, the Duke's mansion with its pointed roofs came into view. Of all days, today was the day she began sharing a bedroom with him.

***

"A package arrived while you were out."

Blair, reading in the bedroom, looked up. Millia, holding the box, placed it on the table. It was a gift box wrapped in red ribbon.

"Addressed to the young mistress."

"I bought it yesterday at the department store. It's a gift for Edmund."

"I knew it. It looked like a gift for the young master, so I set it aside."

"Thank you."

It was the tie she had bought while Edmund was away and she was browsing the department store alone. Blair gently stroked the neatly wrapped box. It wasn't a grand gift, but it was a present filled with her desire to feel even a little closer to him.

When should she give it to him? Edmund had returned home, immediately received a stack of documents flown in from Borsa, and shut himself in his study. Though they stayed in the same mansion, the sound of his footsteps approaching her bedroom didn't come until late into the evening. She couldn't very well go looking for a man busy with work in his study.

"Wasn't the inspection schedule exhausting?"

"...Ah, yeah. Well."

Her whole body was indeed stiff, but it wasn't from the inspection, so Blair's cheeks flushed as she answered. Unaware of the reason, Millia smiled and continued.

"By the way, did you hear the news? A grand banquet is to be held at the mansion soon."

"I heard too. They said the Duchess is hosting it."

"But it's not anyone's birthday coming up. Why the banquet?"

"Hmm..."

Blair turned the page, lost in thought. Not long ago, Isabelle had smiled meaningfully and mentioned good news, but she hadn't revealed what it was. A sudden, chilling premonition flashed through her mind.

Could it be that? When discussing the scandalous incident Millia nearly faced, Edmund had relayed news that Rufus had shown a brief sign of his sexual function returning.

But it lasted only... a few seconds, hadn't it? If that flimsy excuse was enough to throw a party, then Edmund would have to host lavish celebrations for months on end.

The absurd thought made Blair burst into a hollow laugh. The memory of that body heat pressing against hers so often made it impossible to focus on the words. Pressing her hand to her forehead, she closed the book and pushed it aside on the table.

"I should wash up before it gets too late."

"I'll help you."

"...Ah, no. It's fine. I want to bathe alone today."

Blair instinctively stopped the maid from entering the bathroom. She didn't want anyone seeing the messy traces of last night scattered across her body.

After sending the maid away and taking the bathroom for herself, Blair stood beneath the showerhead. Closing her eyes to the cascading water, the thoughts crowding her mind seemed to fade.

But whenever she pushed her eyelids open again and the marks he'd left came into view, her heart inevitably pounded. No matter how much she scrubbed with soapy foam, the man's warmth, deeply etched into her skin, wouldn't wash away. How could Edmund be fine after a night like that? It was something Blair couldn't comprehend.

Even after finishing her shower, she stood before the mirror for a long while, sighing. She hadn't even thought to wrap a towel around herself. In the end, she stepped out of the bathroom completely defenseless, both body and mind.

And before taking two steps, she froze at the threshold. Her lips parted, clad in nothing but a tangled mess of emotions. Because Edmund, standing before the table, had shifted his gaze toward her.

Blair blinked at the unbelievable reality, then covered herself with her arms in horror. His gaze, unfazed, slid calmly down to her dripping toes. When Edmund looked up again, a low chuckle escaped his lips.

"You know we share a bedroom, yet you come out naked."

"I, this... that..."

"Is this deliberate?"

Blair hurried toward the screen she'd placed there the moment she heard they'd be sharing a bedroom. The man's mocking tone continued unabated.

"My mistake was accidental, but yours seems entirely intentional."

"It absolutely wasn't intentional. You were in your study all day, so I didn't think to consider it."

"You didn't know when I'd return to my bedroom?"

"That's not what I meant... I'm sorry."

"Or does that mean you've seen all there is to see of me now?"

A strange breathiness tinged his voice. Was he angry? Silently berating herself, Blair whispered.

"I'm sorry, but could you bring me my clothes?"

Edmund let out a short sigh and shuffled over. A hand reached out from behind the screen, holding her nightgown and robe together.

"Put them on and come out."

"...Thank you."

Stupid. How could I do this twice? And how could I offer a gift in a situation like this?

Dressed and consumed by self-reproach, Blair cautiously stepped out from behind the changing screen. The man still standing before the table glanced at her. His expression suggested nothing had happened.

Facing that indifferent face, Blair fidgeted with her fingertips, unable to bear the silence any longer. She spoke first.

"I heard the Duchess is planning to host a party soon."

"Yes. She's preparing something quite grand for her beloved eldest son."

"I doubted it... Is it to celebrate master Rufus's 'recovery,' as you mentioned before?"

Edmund scoffed, finding the very notion absurd.

"Correct. Though those few seconds seem to have been interpreted by Mother as a full recovery."

"But Edmund, if such a party is held... won't some people believe master Rufus is once again the heir apparent?"

He nodded at Blair, who voiced her concern.

"You're sharp. We shouldn't just scoff at it as a celebration of recovery. To some, it could be interpreted as the Duke's legitimate heir being alive and well."

"Then shouldn't we stop it?"

"We must. And we have a perfect excuse."