Deceived 89

Chapter 89

****

How lost in thought she was, Blair didn't even realize she was biting her lip until it bled. She didn't notice the car that had arrived at the mansion early had stopped, nor that the driver, looking troubled, was checking her expression in the mirror.

What kind of eyes had Edmund looked at her with that night? She didn't know how he felt, but Blair remembered her own heart clearly.

Her chest pounding as she looked up at him, her hand reaching out slowly, her lips touching him cautiously. How could she forget the deep affection that welled up in her at each moment?

Not just that night, but countless nights too numerous to count, Blair willingly opened herself to him, letting him touch her wherever he wished. She gave herself because she loved him. Hoping each moment of contact was proof of love.

How must she have appeared to the man who surely knew her heart? Ridiculous, no doubt.

‘...What a fool.’

Looking back, there had been more than a few moments when she was disappointed that Edmund didn't feel the same way. She felt truly foolish. What had she expected from a relationship built on lies from the start? 

Self-reproach, as if waiting for this moment, surged up and gnawed painfully at her heart. At some point, finding fault with herself had become ingrained as a habit.

And yet, the most pathetic truth, the reason for her continued despair, was that she still loved him unwaveringly.

Even as her trust crumbled to dust, her love remained untouched, not a single scratch upon it. Blair still wanted to hold Edmund close. She didn't know what else to call this contradictory feeling, tangled with betrayal and affection, if not love.

Could there be a more foolish woman in the world?

Turning her head, Blair looked up at the enormous ducal mansion beyond the car window. Only after gazing straight ahead again and catching her wet breath did she step out of the car. Each step she took felt infinitely heavy.

***

“Did she say when she’d be back?”

“No, she left so suddenly.”

Meanwhile, in the hallway outside the bedroom, a heated exchange was unfolding over Blair’s absence. Milia, Blair’s personal maid, was flustered before Edmund.

"The young mistress had been in her bedroom for far too long. I went to bring her some refreshments, and that's when I encountered her in the hallway, just as she was leaving... with the former Duchess, no less..."

Edmund was flabbergasted by the maid's subtly reproachful gaze. How long had she served Blair to become so fiercely loyal already? He looked down at her, gesturing for her to continue.

"When I asked where she was going, she only said she was going out for a little while."

It seemed pointless to interrogate the maid further. Edmund sighed and gave a brief nod.

"You may go now."

Milia curtsied and scurried away. Turning, Edmund walked down the hallway toward the entrance hall.

It was unexpected that Blair had gone out with Isabelle. It hadn't been a planned outing; even the butler knew nothing about it.

On the surface, there was nothing unusual. As the former Duchess, Isabelle could certainly socialize with Blair, and going out for tea was hardly suspicious.

But the problem was what Isabelle might have whispered to the woman who was already anxious, especially after the will had just been revealed, and with their conversation left unfinished.

Ironically, what really gnawed at Edmund's nerves was that the woman he expected to be waiting quietly in the bedroom was nowhere to be found. An oddly intense displeasure surged at her simple absence. He disliked both the woman slipping beyond his control and the emotions refusing to bend to his will.

"Your Excellency."

The moment he descended the stairs and entered the foyer, the old butler hurried toward him.

"The lady has just returned home. She came back alone, they say."

"Is she coming to the main house now?"

"No. She went straight to the garden."

“…The garden?”

His expression darkened further. If she’d returned home, there would be someone specific she’d go see immediately. Why the garden, all of a sudden?

Even so, his footsteps carried him toward the gate leading to the garden. Feeling a slight tightness in his chest, he undid the buttons of his neatly buttoned jacket and quickened his pace. Edmund stepped out of the main house and soon reached the garden, where autumn flowers bloomed profusely.

Within the neatly maintained hedge, the garden was breathtakingly beautiful with its lush, mature plants. The weather was unusually fine; petals in full bloom glistened, drenched in sunlight, while the dense garden trees swayed in the breeze, casting long shadows.

Within that perfect backdrop stood Blair.

Seated at an outdoor table set for tea, she was simply staring blankly into space. Light filtering through the plane tree leaves brushed her face, but her slumped posture made her expression difficult to discern.

"Blair."

When he approached and called her name, Blair turned to look at him. Though his footsteps hadn't been particularly quiet, she seemed startled. As if she'd been deep in thought.

At the same moment, the woman's gaze lifting to meet his subtly hardened. It was an almost imperceptible change, but Edmund couldn't fail to notice it. He couldn't tell immediately if it was because of the dazzling sunlight or something else.

"What is it?"

"What?"

"......"

"I was looking for you. I heard you left suddenly."

Edmund stepped aside, shielding Blair's face from the sunlight, and stood opposite her. Only then was he certain. The woman was staring at him with eyes that held both fatigue and wariness.

"I'm sorry for leaving without a word."

"Where did you go?"

"To a cafe downtown. I was feeling stifled, and the Duchess suggested we get some fresh air."

"...With my mother."

"It was awkward to refuse."

"Then what are you doing alone now?"

"The weather's nice for once."

A flicker of something like defiance flickered in Blair's eyes.

"There's no need to just sit in the bedroom."

Edmund stared down at those bright eyes and remained silent for a moment. It was a gaze that had once piqued his curiosity. He had once wanted to test the limits of this woman, raised in a conservative environment, who secretly dreamed of freedom in her heart.

Did she still feel the same way now? Not at all. If she dreamed of freedom, let her dream to her heart's content. But only as long as she remained within his boundaries.

"I see."

"......"

"Let me clarify one thing: you are now the Duchess. I inherited all of Father's estate."

Edmund forced a smile, swallowing his displeasure. It might have looked like a sneer.

"I suppose you heard it from Mother."

"Yes. You've finally achieved your goal."

"I'd appreciate it if you'd congratulate me sincerely."

"Congratulations. Though it’s meaningless words to someone who's already a Duke."

"Meaningless."

"Hasn't the result always been all that mattered to you?"

A heavy silence fell. It was so quiet that the rustling of leaves stirred by a faint breeze sounded sharp.

Edmund suddenly realized he was stepping in a muddy puddle. Rainwater had pooled here after falling throughout the funeral. The garden, which had seemed perfect at a glance, was crumbling in places upon closer inspection.

A hollow laugh escaped him.

"Truthfully, I haven't fully achieved my goal. I'm still only the acting duke."

A crack finally appeared in the woman's face, which had remained cold and composed throughout. She seemed to have guessed what he was about to say.

"This position is not guaranteed. Only by producing an heir will it truly become mine."

"...I wish you luck in your future endeavors. I should retire to my bedroom now."

Muttering words that sounded more like a farewell than a blessing, Blair pushed back her chair and stood. Edmund twisted his lips at her unmistakable evasive stance. He immediately seized the wrist of the woman turning to leave. Her eyes widened as she looked up at him.

"How cold. I expected at least a congratulatory word now that I’ve become Duke."

"Save that for someone else."

"I want it from the lady standing before me right now."

Her face instantly turned troubled. She knew what he wanted wouldn't be satisfied with mere words.

Edmund paid no heed to her flustered reaction. He stared down at her face, now drained of color, for a moment before reaching out with his other hand and gripping her delicate nape. At that instant, the thread of his reason snapped.

He pressed his lips against hers, as if colliding with the shock-parted lips of Blair. It was not a gentle kiss, nor was it planned. It was fierce, like the final convulsion of someone collapsing.