Deceived 82

Chapter 82

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The Duchess crossed the line. How exactly? He knew the answer without needing to hear it, but Edmund needed firmer proof.

"The woman I observed revered her husband like the heavens themselves. How could such a woman dare challenge your authority?"

The Duke of Liberte remained silent once more. His fingers, withered and twisted like dead branches, trembled as he continued his wheezing breaths. It was so precarious and feeble it seemed it might extinguish at the slightest gust of wind.

"Father."

Thump, thump. Edmund's heart beat rapidly. William's eyes, wandering through empty space, were cloudy and unfocused, and the breath he exhaled crumbled like rotten paper. The air hanging over the bedside also gradually transformed. The scent of old herbs mingled with the cooling warmth of a human body, shifting into the smell of death.

"Edmund, Edmund... You are... my... my... heir."

Even as consciousness faded, the Duke blindly sought his bloodline. Like a dying body clutching at its last lifeline. Edmund watched his father with cold, detached eyes.

To the Duke, only one value mattered above all else: the honor of his house. It was the name of Liberte, to be passed down through generations. That name was the order itself, the very right to rule. Thus, the Duke tolerated not even the slightest crack.

To him, an heir was not merely an inheritor. He was the vessel to carry on the honor the Duke held so dear, the very existence that would perpetuate the house through time.

That was likely why he described Isabelle's actions as an assault on his authority. They must have been perceived as defiling his domain and threatening the established order.

Therefore, if Isabelle had harmed Edmund's birth mother, the Duke's fury would have stemmed not from love for the mistress, but from a sense of humiliation. He couldn't have mourned the death of a mistress whose life was worth no more than a fly's. Duke Liberte was the sort of man who wouldn't bat an eye even if his mistress died of a chronic illness.

"The crime of the Duchess who killed my mother..."

He understood his father. But understanding did not equate to forgiveness. To Edmund, he was no different than an accomplice.

"Are you admitting it?"

Still, no answer came. William, who had been breathing in short, choppy gasps, finally moved his lips.

"Those who defy my authority... pay the price."

And then all his movements ceased. The faint breaths escaping him, the slight tremors in his fingers—they stopped.

A cold silence settled over the bedroom. Edmund closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them and rose from his seat.

Benjamin, who had been waiting in the drawing room, appeared cautiously, seemingly sensing the movement. Behind him, the servants who had been attending the Duke stood with bated breath, heads bowed. Edmund gestured toward the bed where the Duke lay.

"Check him."

Benjamin walked quietly to the bed and felt the Duke's pulse, which was unresponsive. He held his fingertips close to the Duke's nose to check for breath, then turned to Edmund after a moment and nodded. Edmund declared softly to the servants.

"The Duke has passed away."

His voice, announcing the death, held not a hint of tremor.

"Prepare the funeral immediately according to protocol."

***

The rain that had stopped began pouring down again just as Duke Liberte met his end.

Blair watched the relentless downpour outside the window before turning her gaze away. Edmund, who had returned to the bedroom moments earlier, stood before the mirror buttoning his shirt. His expression was as emotionless as ever.

What could she say to him? Edmund showed no sign of grief or mourning over his father's death. Yet, clearly, a storm of emotion was raging within him. Blair could now see the raw truth hidden beneath that perfect exterior.

"The will the Duke drafted..."

As she struggled to speak, Edmund's hand, buttoned up to the collar, paused slowly. The man turned to face her, his expression still utterly blank.

"When will it be made public?"

"After the funeral, the executor will read it aloud before the family and witnesses."

"Then..."

"We'll have to wait at least three more days."

Edmund answered simply and walked toward the dressing room where garments and accessories were stored. Blair could see him retrieve something from the open space beyond the doorless room.

It was a tie. One she had given him long ago.

"It's an important day."

Edmund smiled faintly as he handed her the neat, monochrome tie. Blair sighed quietly, overcome by a subtle feeling. Why?

"I'll wear it on an important day. You'll tie it for me yourself then."

Was it because she never dreamed that day would be a funeral?

Unable to voice it aloud, she silently accepted the silk tie. Then she stepped forward, standing face to face with him. She reached out her hand and draped the tie around his neck.

As Blair's fingertips lightly brushed his nape, Edmund's breath against her forehead grew thick for a moment. His widely spread chest rose silently, and the gaze fixed on her darkened. Blair glanced up briefly to study his expression.

"Is it uncomfortable?"

"No. It's fine."

She tied the knot slowly. Even the downward pull of her hand was cautious.

She had no choice. Though Edmund, facing the funeral, was impeccably dressed as always, a razor-sharp edge was visible beneath the surface.

"Um... What happens now?"

"What?"

"The title. That's why we were bound together in the first place, isn't it? You probably can't be certain yet either... I just wanted to know your thoughts."

Edmund remained silent for a moment. He paused, his deep gray eyes simply scanning her face. Blair found it difficult to meet his gaze and absentmindedly fiddled with the knot of his tie.

"Father left the title to me."

His reply, coming a little late, was delivered with absolute certainty. Only then did Blair look up at Edmund.

"...Really?"

"I'm certain."

Edmund stated it without a shred of doubt. His unwavering confidence only made Blair feel more bewildered.

How could he be so certain? He couldn't have seen the will beforehand. The notarized document would still be sealed, and if it were opened before being read aloud in front of witnesses, wouldn't it lose its legal validity?

Then he must have gained some certainty during a private conversation with the Duke on his deathbed…

"Rufus won't have even the slightest chance."

"How can you know that?"

"Because that would be the condemnation Father could pass upon the Duchess."

Blair tilted her head, not immediately understanding. But she couldn't press further, so she finished tying his tie and offered a cautious smile.

"Then... that's a relief."

"......"

"It really is a relief, Edmund."

“Thank you.”

“The tie suits you well too.”

Only then did Edmund laugh, scattering the low breeze. Dressed in black mourning attire, they stood still like figures in a black-and-white portrait, gazing at each other.

“That too is fortunate.”

And then silence fell again. Blair didn't avert her gaze from the eyes staring down at her. She met the dark pupils, like sudden, gathering storm clouds. She'd never known this man as well as she did now, yet strangely, he felt most unfamiliar in this moment.

She soon understood why.

Edmund bent his waist sharply, tilting his head to kiss Blair. Accustomed to his touch, she naturally closed her eyes and accepted his lips, then abruptly pushed her eyelids open. Before she knew it, his large hands gripped both her shoulders, holding her firmly so she couldn't retreat anywhere.

Captured by the man's overwhelming strength, the kiss continued. Before she could react, his tongue plunged into the gap between her parted lips.

"...Ugh, I..."

Blair twisted her head as the man's rough advance pushed her back a couple of steps.

"No...!"

She frantically reached out and pushed him away. As she gasped for the breath she'd been denied, Edmund looked down at her with flashing eyes.

"This... this is wrong..."

"......"

"We have to hold the funeral now. So, this kind of thing..."

Blair found herself watching his face as she spoke, as if studying it. She wanted to know what kind of feelings he held for her, what thoughts had led him to kiss her.

Before she could fully comprehend it, Edmund took a deep breath and stepped back slightly.

"I understand."

After a brief silence, he picked up the black jacket hanging on the coat rack and put it on. Then he extended his hand to Blair.

"Shall we go now?"

"...Yes."

The two left the bedroom and walked down the hallway without exchanging a word. All the way to the chapel where the funeral service was to be held, Blair had to resist the urge to look up at him.

One thing she could be certain of: what flickered in Edmund's eyes was not sexual desire or instinct. It was something more desperate, more akin to the look in his eyes back then at Chiles, when he'd nearly lost his mind, that look demanding affection.