Deceived, Yet Drawn to You - Chapter 2

01. Encounter

Blair Twyford was a woman who had never once strayed before reaching adulthood.

Alcohol and smoking were, of course, out of the question, and even when her schoolmates—on the cusp of adolescence’s end—giggled over provocative topics, she covered her eyes and ears, struggling not to listen. As if afraid that her peers’ crude talk might stain her pristine world with even a speck of filth.

When Blair sat in a chair, she never once leaned back, always maintaining a graceful posture. Even on days when the sun was not strong, she carried a parasol and hat without fail, and she never removed her gloves from the hands that gentlemen often sought to kiss.

This was the influence of her father, who never ceased to stress virtuous conduct.

The Count of Twyford was a father who, if young Blair dirtied her skirt while playing in the dirt, would immediately reach for the rod.

He taught that chastity and obedience were the virtues a woman must possess, and he forced his only daughter into his rigid, cold mold.

Blair sometimes vaguely thought that behind such teachings lurked a curse aimed at his wife, who once ran away with a stablehand after they had exchanged glances.

Therefore, she had to be a modest woman. Just as her father wished, she had to be a woman who had inherited not a trace of her mother’s licentious nature.

She couldn’t help but resemble her mother in appearance, with bright hazel eyes, but raised under such harsh discipline, Blair grew up to be a model of feminine propriety.

She wasn’t sociable, nor was she skilled in social maneuvering, but with her natural beauty, her downcast eyes, and her silent demeanor, she gave off a strange, heavy presence.

Her first experience of deviation was when she attended a concert at Kensington Hall in the capital, Borsa.

To be precise, it was at the charity event held after the two-hour performance had ended. It was a seat the count had painstakingly secured by using his connections, all for the sake of his daughter who had just come of age. At least, that was what Blair believed.

To travel from the Twyford domain to the capital Borsa, one had to take the southbound train for a full seven hours. She obediently followed her father’s sudden order to pack and depart, but since her last visit to Borsa had been ten years earlier, she was filled with curiosity.

However, excessive curiosity was far removed from the ideal woman her father envisioned. From the start, Blair was neither close to nor intimate with her father.

Thus, in the still chilly air of early spring, Blair arrived at the townhouse in Borsa after leaving her domain, and before she could even rest her travel fatigue, she had to follow the count’s schedule.

Exhausted from the unexpected journey, she closed her eyes to music that bordered on funereal, but she couldn’t show it. A noblewoman nodding off at a concert? That would surely be the worst sight Blair could imagine.

“Since there are many guests, refrain from drinking. You must not make a mistake on a day like this.”

“Yes, Father.”

When the hellish concert finally ended and they moved into the banquet hall for the charity event, the count gave her that warning. Blair accepted a glass of non-alcoholic cider from a footman and nodded.

Her curiosity about what exactly her father meant by “a day like this” rose sharply, but as always, she kept silent. A woman’s curiosity was not a virtuous trait.

“Oh! You are here now, Marquis. We’ve been waiting.”

Quietly sipping her cider, Blair turned toward the voice of her father. A man in his forties, with an arrogant expression, was shaking hands with the Count of Twyford.

“This is the banquet you so urged me to attend. Of course I had to come.”

“I can only thank you for taking the trouble. By the way, where is your son…?”

“Of course he came along. He knows many people at the banquet, so it seems he went to greet them. Ah, and this is…”

“This is my daughter, Blair. Blair, greet him. This is Marquis Dorman, who operates the largest textile factory in the south.”

Her father’s voice dropped lower in her ear.

“He may soon become your father-in-law, so conduct yourself carefully.”

The Marquis of Dorman grinned, baring pointed teeth. His eyes swept over her quickly with a strange look. Blair hesitated only briefly.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Marquis.”

She smiled without showing it and bent her knees slightly. Still, the clinging gaze searched every part of Blair’s face. It was a bizarre look, as though appraising the value of an object.

“Indeed. The claim that you are the kingdom’s finest bride-to-be was no exaggeration.”

“You flatter me.”

“The more I look, the more beautiful you are. How do you plan to marry off such a dearly raised daughter?”

“I can’t keep her in my arms forever, can I?”

While they bantered and laughed, Blair quietly swallowed dryly.

Unknowingly, her marriage had been discussed. She was bewildered, but it was hard to say she hadn’t expected it at all. After all, she had never imagined she would choose a husband for herself.

“To think you kept your daughter hidden away until now, you must be in quite a rush. Someone might think you are in urgent need of cash!”

“Haha…”

“In any case, it would be good to arrange a meeting for the young people to become acquainted.”

“Would that be best?”

“There’s such a thing as compatibility, so they should test it. Our family values our son dearly, so we prefer to follow his wishes. Then, I will take my leave.”

With that short farewell, the Marquis of Dorman set down his glass on the round table. Then he extended his hand slightly toward Blair, intending to kiss the back of her hand.

Though his lips glistened with some unknown liquid and the greasy fingerprints on the transparent glass disturbed her, Blair obediently offered her hand. Looking down at the Marquis’s bowed head, she thought it fortunate that she wore gloves.

“Wretched man. Daring to prattle on about matters already decided.”

The Count of Twyford cursed at his back as soon as he left.

“Some of us traveled day and night from the north without rest, yet he strutted about, and his son is so ill-mannered he doesn’t even show his face.”

“……”

“Come here, Blair. You must greet Viscount Middleton and his eldest son as well. It’s safer to secure several insurances.”

“Insurances…?”

“To prepare for the possibility of the match with the Dorman family breaking.”

“…Ah.”

What followed was a thoroughly unpleasant conversation. Judging by appearance, Viscount Middleton’s son seemed at least ten years older than Blair, and he used a manner of speaking she couldn’t easily understand.

“Miss Twyford, I hear you attended a girls’ school?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve heard that girls’ school graduates are brimming with curiosity in that regard, so they start early. Is that true?”

“……?”

“Come now. You are so beautiful that men surely wouldn’t have left you alone. If you had wished, it would’ve been possible at any time.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Haha, just a joke.”

Even a fool could tell the topic was distasteful. The viscount’s son asked several more unpleasant questions, but fortunately, Blair was able to use her father’s command—that she must greet as many nobles as possible that day—as an excuse to escape him.

Next, she was introduced to the second son of a certain count’s family. He reeked of alcohol, his half-glazed eyes clearly not normal. Worse, with a lewd smile, his hands crept toward her back and the swell of her chest.

“Excuse me, but could you please keep some distance…”

“Do you use a particular perfume? The scent is truly, truly intoxicating. Like rolling in a field of blooming roses.”

Unable to endure the harassment and nonsense, Blair glanced toward the Count of Twyford for help. But he, laughing boisterously with middle-aged men, had no attention for his daughter. At that moment, she realized that even if he witnessed his daughter being harassed, he might not have cared.

What she found unbelievable was that every man she encountered immediately after entering the banquet hall, as though by prior agreement, brazenly stared at her exposed skin beneath the golden-brown hair and at the curves revealed by her dress.