Deceived, Yet Drawn to You - Chapter 11

“It was only right that your mother died with her tongue hanging out in that stinking attic bedroom! You should’ve died right there beside her back then!”

Edmund lifted his gaze from his pocket watch and fixed it on Isabelle. A momentary silence fell.

His mother, who died during his childhood, stirred ripples in the heart he had kept tightly locked. Unlike himself, who at least received minimal treatment within the family as a so-called ‘insurance’ heir, no one showed his birth mother any mercy. Isabelle’s cruelty toward her went without saying.

In his faded memories, his mother always remained weak and frail. It was the same on the day she died. The shadow of death that hung heavily over that attic, that damp and uncanny darkness, was etched into every one of his childish senses.

He hadn’t known Isabelle remembered that day so clearly as well. Did she hate her that much? Enough to call the end she met, shriveled like a mummy after long illness, a fate she deserved?

“By what right do you decide that an innocent person’s death was fate?”

“…My head hurts, so leave at once.”

The Duchess clenched her lips and pressed her temple, complaining of a headache. Her complexion shifted between red and blue, severe enough that a doctor truly seemed necessary, and Edmund watched her quietly before giving a small nod.

“I’ll take my leave. If you’re unwell, I can call your physician.”

“The day your lackey lays a hand on me is the day the sky falls.”

“You still don’t trust Benjamin.”

Isabelle let out a cold laugh. “Do you take me for a witless fool? How could I trust you and accept treatment from a doctor under your influence? When I see with my own eyes how His Grace weakens by the day.”

“Father is surviving thanks to Benjamin. Without him, he wouldn’t even be able to move properly.”

“How ridiculous.”

“You also seem quite fatigued lately, Mother. I worry you might collapse from it.”

“You’re my chronic illness and misfortune, so disappear from my sight.”

Instead of replying, Edmund bowed politely. He turned to leave the sitting room, and it was just as he took a step away.

“You should never have been born in the first place.”

He stopped short. When he turned his head toward Isabelle, she was smiling coldly.

“How long do you think you can keep living off the name Libert?”

“Has that name ever let me breathe?”

“Get out.”

“Have a good night.”

Edmund lengthened his stride and left the sitting room. As he walked alone through the old mansion, cut off from the kingdom and seeming as though even time itself had stopped, his expression hardened into cold indifference.

***

Spring comes early in Borsa, the capital located in the south-central region of Genoa. When the windows were left open, the breeze carried a rich floral scent inside, and if one was lucky, peach colored petals drifted into the bedroom. Blair was enjoying that fragrant air as she ate her breakfast.

“Miss, a telegram has arrived.”

“Thank you.”

Blair took the envelope Mrs. Norris handed her. When she slit it open with a paper knife, a brief message was written on the sheet inside.

This coming weekend evening, I’ve arranged a fine seat at the clubhouse.

I plan to introduce Lady Twyford to some of my close acquaintances, so I expect you to attend without fail.

Isaac Dorman

Blair stared at the two-line telegram from Isaac for quite some time.

With the wedding approaching, was there really a need to create such a troublesome occasion? It wasn’t particularly strange, but the commanding tone that never even considered refusal rubbed her the wrong way.

Blair set the telegram down and idly stirred her salad, lost in thought.

Her fiancé was someone she couldn’t quite warm to, and he seemed to value appearances above all else. He must have invited a gathering of the capital’s most prominent nobles and members of high society. The telegram called them close acquaintances, but that could very well have been an exaggeration.

If so, would that man be there as well?

She’d thought he was no ordinary person. Judging from the flawless manners ingrained in him and his cynical way of speaking, cloaked in refinement, he clearly came from a distinguished family. She’d met him only twice, yet her conjecture gradually solidified into certainty.

Just like at the charity event before, he was the sort of man who would only appear at gatherings one could attend by invitation from the nobility.

When her thoughts reached that point, her heart began to pound. To think that the person who came to mind immediately after receiving her fiancé’s message was a man whose name she didn’t even know. It flustered her, but the thought arose against her will.

“Was that a telegram from your fiancé?”

Mrs. Norris asked with a gentle smile as she poured black tea into an empty cup. Blair lifted her head and met the maid’s eyes.

“Yes, it was.”

“My, your face is all red. You must be very excited.”

“….”

Absolutely not…. Blair, who’d been saddled with a terrible misunderstanding involving Isaac Dorman, swallowed her complaint and stabbed an innocent slice of tomato with her fork.

“Do you have dinner plans?”

“Yes, I’ll be going out this weekend evening. Please let my father know as well.”

“I will. Shall I prepare something bright and glamorous for you, so you’ll make a good impression on the gentleman that day?”

Blair blinked slowly, her eyes lowered. If there was anyone she wanted to impress, it certainly wasn’t her fiancé, and she shook her head. It wasn’t even a question worth pondering.

“No. There’s no need.”

Her gaze slipped away in secret and lingered on the back of the bookcase. She was afraid someone might discover the sketch of that man she’d hidden away, or the deepening feelings she traced over it night after night.

***

By the time Blair stepped out of the car and arrived at the clubhouse known as ‘Biso,’ she was slightly past the appointed hour. Located in a dim part of the city, the two-story club required identity verification at the entrance before one could enter.

“You’ve arrived, Lady Twyford.”

Isaac Dorman greeted Blair with a broad smile on his polished face as soon as she passed through the entrance.

“You look exceptionally beautiful today as well.”

“You’re too kind. Thank you for inviting me.”

With Mrs. Norris’s help, Blair wore light makeup today to add a bit of vitality, along with a deep blue dress tinged with ash gray and black lace gloves.

The maid had suggested a pearl necklace, saying it would suit her long, slender neck, but Blair shook her head, wanting to keep her accessories to a minimum. She finished her hair with pomade and pinned it up low, as she always did.

Isaac’s eyes lingered subtly over her impeccably modest evening attire before he soon offered his arm. “Shall we go inside? I’ve invited only young people, so it should be quite an enjoyable gathering.”

“Thank you.”

Before long, they reached a lounge filled with the strains of a passionate waltz. More than a dozen guests who’d arrived early were gathered in small groups, chatting among themselves.

“Let’s start with a drink. Champagne? Wine? Or a lavender gin fizz?”

Isaac led Blair to a table lined with an assortment of liquor bottles and pointed to them one by one. She didn’t seem to have much of a choice either way. When she picked something at random, he poured a drink into her glass.

“Lord Dorman.”

The sweet, lilting voice that came from behind caught their attention. Isaac turned his head reflexively, as if recognizing the speaker, and Blair followed his gaze a moment later toward the source of the sound.

“…Ah! You’ve finally arrived.”

A finely dressed man and woman were looking at Blair with curious eyes. The woman, in particular, left a strong impression. She had vivid red hair, heavy makeup, and strikingly defined features. Her dress, cut low enough to fully expose her cleavage, was as passionate in color as her hair.

After pressing a courteous kiss to the back of the woman’s hand, Isaac turned back to Blair with a smile.

“Allow me to introduce you, Lady Twyford. This is Nicoletta, daughter of the Viscount of Underhill, and her cousin, Zeb. Nicoletta, this is Lady Blair Twyford.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Underhill.”

“Oh my, so this is how we meet. I heard you were quite a beauty… and it doesn’t seem like an exaggeration at all.”

Nicoletta smiled as she narrowed her upturned eyes.

“And they said you were a proper, modest lady, just like a schoolteacher. That description fits you perfectly.”