Deceived, Yet Drawn to You - Chapter 16

Blair didn’t answer and kept her gaze fixed straight ahead. With no other choice, she tried to focus on the paintings on display. It was a relief that the ridiculous back and forth had come to an end, but the man following her like a shadow was uncomfortable all the same.

Surprisingly, she soon managed to push his presence out of her mind. That was only natural, given how beautiful the paintings were, all centered on rivers and light in countless variations.

From works depicting pale dawn mist rising over the water, to rippling waves holding golden sunlight, to riverbanks stained by the glow of sunset, every piece made it hard to look away.

Blair liked works of art. She liked moments when she could set aside the tangled realities of life and remain within a painting. The sensation of seeping into another world, of drifting away without a clear destination, was strangely comforting to her.

As Blair sank deeply into the world of the artwork, her hazel eyes sparkled again and again. Her slightly parted lips occasionally released silent exclamations of awe. While she admired dozens of paintings, she never once noticed that Edmund’s gaze never left her.

“They’re truly beautiful.”

Standing before the final painting displayed at the end of the corridor, Blair murmured softly. Edmund, who had remained silent the entire time, curved his lips upward.

“I’m glad you enjoyed the exhibition. It makes opening it especially worthwhile.”

Just as he’d promised, he hadn’t interfered with her viewing. He hadn’t interrupted to offer commentary or explanations. Only after it was over did Blair realize this, and she felt inexplicably embarrassed.

“Yes, especially this piece.”

She continued speaking without taking her eyes off the final painting, the one that had left the deepest impression.

“It’s calm, but also warm. It feels like a kind of peace that comes with stillness.”

A bluish gray haze wrapped gently around the river’s surface. The waterway, tinged with an indescribable loneliness, flowed quietly, and at its center, the lingering glow of sunset settled over the river as if stroking it. The warmth seeping into the cool tones softened the viewer’s heart.

“That’s an interesting way to see it.”

The low, even voice from above caught Blair’s attention.

“The painter took his own life just days after completing this piece.”

Startled, Blair lifted her head. After staring at Edmund for a moment with wide eyes, her gaze returned to the painting hanging before her. So this was Augier’s final work?

“The peace you felt may have been closer to resignation. Peace sometimes appears disguised as the expression of someone who has already let go.”

The man’s calm voice, as he spoke his thoughts aloud, lingered long after the words ended. What kind of expression was he wearing right now? Blair steadied her breathing and asked carefully.

“Was there a particular reason you chose to hold an exhibition of Augier’s work?”

“Our foundation places greater value on works that carry an artist’s philosophy and sincerity than on commercially driven pieces made for popularity. Augier’s paintings met those criteria.”

“I see.”

“That’s the answer I usually give. But it’s not the whole truth.”

Blair, who had been taking in the final painting, looked up at Edmund. His gaze still rested on the artwork, but the faint smile on his face made it seem as though he was choosing his words.

“On a personal level, there’s something about his work that draws me in. Like the mist or the fading sunset spreading faintly over the river, Augier captured scenes that flow on without belonging to anyone with remarkable precision.”

“…Do you ever feel like running away too, Lord Libert?”

The question was almost impulsive. She wondered whether he had been looking at the painting with feelings similar to hers. Whether slipping away from reality, even briefly, might have been a comfort to him as well.

Only after asking did she realize it was a mistake, but Edmund smiled as if it were no big deal.

“Is there anyone in the world who doesn’t feel that way? Even during the regular bank meeting this morning, which ran three hours longer than scheduled, I wanted to run away.”

Blair let out a small laugh along with him. She clasped her lace-gloved hands together in front of her and continued, “It’s surprising to hear that you feel like escaping too…. You always look like someone who keeps everything under control.”

“You’re not wrong. But control is mostly an illusion. Even what you think you’re holding firmly in your grasp is no different from a current that can slip away at any moment.”

The man who left deep ripples in Blair’s chest naturally escorted her as they exited the exhibition hall. Perhaps because Augier’s exhibition hadn’t officially begun yet, there were hardly any people inside the museum hall. That was fortunate.

It was then that Edmund, standing beside her, asked in a gentle voice.

“Have you ever gone to see the Ridgeway River in person?”

The Ridgeway River runs through the capital, Borsa. Its water is exceptionally clear and transparent, and when you stand looking at it quietly, you can understand why artists were so eager to capture it on canvas.

“No. I haven’t been since coming down to the capital.”

Blair shook her head. Perhaps she had already guessed the suggestion that would follow.

“Would you like to go together? The riverside park at Ridgeway is quiet even during the day, so it’s a pleasant place for a walk.”

She couldn’t answer right away. A suggestion offered immediately after receiving such kindness was hard to refuse. Even though she knew she should refuse, knowing this was someone she shouldn’t become any more personally entangled with, the words wouldn’t come.

“Lady Twyford.”

As if he’d read her thoughts, Edmund stopped walking and added with a brief laugh, “I’m suggesting it as a friend.”

Blair, who had stopped along with him, turned that unfamiliar word over in her mind.

Friend. A friend. It didn’t sound bad. A relationship where you could spend endless time together without feeling the weight of guilt. When she reframed it that way, the sense of resistance, as if she were committing an affair, faded.

“If it’s still inconvenient, I won’t press the matter.”

“…No. I think it’s fine.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

After some deliberation, when she finally agreed, Edmund drew a pleasing curve at the corner of his lips.

“That’s a relief. I enjoy spending time with you.”

That frank confession lightly struck something inside Blair. She’d thought their conversation flowed well because he felt similar to her, but did he think the same?

“Shall we?”

After reassuring Blair that Ridgeway Park was close enough to walk to from here, Edmund took the lead. The two of them stepped out toward the city bathed in spring sunlight.

***

The Ridgeway River was a sight Edmund had grown tired of seeing ever since he’d first set foot in the capital as a boy. He’d never felt much emotion toward that familiar scenery. In that sense, he thought the woman walking shoulder to shoulder with him was quite something.

Edmund quietly observed Blair beneath her pure white lace parasol. Like one of Augier’s paintings, the woman framed against the brilliant light and river of Ridgeway was beautiful. Her golden brown hair, made especially bright under the midday sun, was lush, and her clear skin and the delicate features gathered on her small face made it difficult to look away.

Even when she kept her lips pressed together like a cool, reserved woman, the small mouth that parted slightly whenever their eyes met, unable to hide its agitation, was the most pleasing sight of all. He could read clearly what kind of imaginings filled her mind when she looked at him.

It wasn’t a matter of being young or old. Of course, Blair Twyford was a young woman who had only just come of age and lacked much social experience, but the armor she wrapped around herself was fairly thick.

Because of that, it was easy to crack that shell and dig into what lay beneath. She was a woman who possessed a similar kind of lack.

“The weather is really nice today. I’m glad we decided to take a walk.”

Walking along the riverbank, Blair adjusted her parasol and murmured as if to herself.

Watching the sense of liberation flickering beneath the woman’s refined mask, Edmund asked, “You don’t usually go for walks, do you? Is it uncommon for you to come out to the riverside park on a day like this?”

“It’s not exactly that. Ever since we came down to Borsa, my father has been terribly busy. So busy that he doesn’t even know where I go or what I do….”

“….”

“Since I was young, if I wanted to do anything at all in our estate, Glassford, I always needed permission. To go somewhere, to buy something, or even what kind of books I read. When you live in that kind of environment for a long time, the very desire to try something new gradually fades.”

Even something as trivial as taking a walk. As Blair added that, her voice grew softer. Edmund matched his pace to hers and replied as if he understood.

“It’s a familiar feeling. There was a time when I couldn’t do almost anything without permission either. Maybe that’s why I became someone who now decides everything for himself.”

“…And are you satisfied with that?”