Deceived, Yet Drawn to You - Chapter 27

When Edmund first proposed marriage to her, the woman who had turned pale and questioned his true intentions and her own reason no longer existed. In her place stood a woman who had accepted his contract and was ready to use it as a foothold to step into a wider world.

Doubt turned into understanding, hesitation into resolve. The hand Edmund extended was not danger, but perhaps a path that could change her fate. To turn away from it would mean kicking away an opportunity that might never come again.

“Of course, Lady Twyford.”

The moment Edmund replied in a low voice, the next auction item, a set of goblets, was placed on the platform. Catching the chandelier light, the gleaming silver cups were engraved with an antique yin-yang pattern, reminiscent of the crests of ancient dynasties. The auctioneer’s voice echoed through the hall as he explained that the pieces had passed through several noble families over the centuries.

Blair said quietly, “Then I’d like to talk again. I’ve made my decision.”

Edmund watched the platform with an interested gaze and remained silent for a moment. His eyes, which had been slowly scanning the auction item, naturally shifted toward Blair.

“Now we can finally have a proper conversation. Unlike when I first made my proposal.”

“….”

“But this place has far too many eyes watching us for the discussion we need to have.”

Blair nodded without a word. It wasn’t a suitable place. A venue where people eagerly placed prices on objects to buy and sell made it all the more distasteful. The gazes mixed with luxury, curiosity, and ambition were something she despised.

“Where should we go to continue this conversation?”

Edmund took a small note from his pocket, wrote something concise with his fountain pen, and handed it to Blair. Written in elegant cursive on the slip of paper provided for bidding was an address.

“It’s the townhouse where I reside, in Chails. If you’re willing to make a deal, you may come there.”

“…Are you asking me to come to the place where you live alone?”

Not the Regent Bank like before? Startled, she asked again, and he answered simply.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I want to see how prepared you are, in a place where no one can interfere. If it makes you uncomfortable, we can pretend this never happened.”

“I have no intention of backing out now.”

“When someone who’s walked only on paved roads is suddenly told to walk a path of thorns, hesitation is natural. I was curious whether your resolve is merely words, or if you’re truly ready to step forward.”

A faint smile spread through the eyes watching Blair.

“For a young lady who’s grown up without hardship, it might indeed be difficult.”

“Don’t assume I’ve never walked a thorny path.”

When Blair snapped back, Edmund met her gaze in silence. The look he gave her, indulgent as he watched her react to every provocation, left a bitter taste. Blair started to say more, then stopped, and instead took the paper with his address written on it. It was only a single line, yet her heart pounded as if she were holding a secret that could never be revealed.

What she held in her hand was not an invitation to ruin, but a path to save herself. This was the choice between sinking as she was, or struggling with everything she had to swim forward.

From a distance, Blair caught sight of Isaac and Nicoletta returning to their seats, laughing and flirting with each other. Blair reflexively folded the paper and tucked it deep into her bodice. The two of them, back from their brief tryst of barely more than ten minutes, wore unmistakably buoyant expressions.

Isaac, who had glanced at Blair out of the corner of his eye, noticed a beat later the presence of Edmund seated beside her. The face of the man who had intended to openly slight his fiancée stiffened ever so slightly.

“Edmund? What brings you to a place like this?”

“Hardly something for the one who sent the invitation to say.”

“I didn’t know you took an interest in events like this. I don’t recall ever running into you at an auction house before….”

“I stop by when something suits my taste. I heard there’d be something worth seeing today.”

“…Is that so?”

As the subtle exchange continued, Blair unconsciously drew her shoulders in. At that moment, the next auction item was being brought onto the platform. Draped in red velvet, its angular outline made it easy to guess what lay beneath.

“Ladies and gentlemen who collect works of art, I ask that you pay close attention to this next item.”

The auctioneer grabbed the edge of the cloth and swept it upward. The velvet slid down like a crimson wave, revealing the painting that had been hidden beneath.

“It is an oil painting by Francis Marce, a master of Symbolism. One of the works he left behind before the war, and a rare piece that has never once been shown to the public.”

Against a background as dark as deep night, the corner of a mahogany table was depicted. On the tabletop lay a pair of white silk gloves and a pomegranate split in half, placed there without even a dish, its red juice dripping down like rivulets of blood. Beside them, a vaguely rendered woman sat on a chair, gazing toward somewhere beyond the frame.

The vividly bloodlike juice, the casually discarded white gloves, and even the unseen direction of the woman’s gaze left ample room for interpretation, befitting a Symbolist work.

Drawn in by the eerie, chilling allure of the painting, quiet sounds of bidding began to spread throughout the hall.

“It makes attending the auction worthwhile.”

Blair lifted her eyes slightly toward Edmund seated beside her.

“Are you planning to bid?”

“Yes. I find it quite appealing. Once Augier’s exhibition ends, I plan to place it in the finest spot in my gallery.”

Even though she knew he was speaking of the painting, Blair couldn’t shake the strange illusion that he was somehow referring to her.

Matching the steadily rising bids, Edmund wrote down an absurdly high amount on his slip of paper and beckoned an auction attendant over. Then, in a voice that was smooth but by no means cautious, he added, “When the exhibition opens, do come visit again, Lady Twyford. I’d be delighted to invite you.”

“…Ah. Yes.”

When Blair replied briefly, she felt Isaac’s gaze from the seat on her right fix on them with a frown. She met her fiancé’s questioning look without flinching and kept her eyes on Marce’s painting.

The auctioneer struck the wooden block three times, signaling the sale. A faint smile appeared on Edmund’s lips, seemingly pleased with securing the painting. That image lingered in Blair’s mind for a strangely long time.

***

It was well past midnight in Eldenvale.

In the great mansion, which should normally have been steeped in pitch-black darkness and silence at that hour, a sudden commotion broke out.

Crash! The sound of a glass shattering rang out as the tightly shut bedroom door flew open. At the same time, three or four half-dressed women screamed and rushed out into the corridor.

“Get out! All of you, get out right now!”

At the far end of the hallway, the Duchess and the old butler, Albert, who had been standing by, went pale. Isabelle let out a deep sigh, then swept the women with eyes as cold as frost. Each of them had flashy looks, but the heavy makeup and the cloying stench of perfume couldn’t hide their vulgarity.

“Send the young ladies back to Borsa.”

“…As you wish.”

Albert nodded and was about to turn away, but then stopped and looked up at Isabelle silently. Reading the concern on his face, Isabelle knit her brows slightly.

“Do you have something you wish to say to me?”

“If the Duke were to learn that women like this were brought into Eldenvale, His Grace would be furious.”

“…Hah.”

So that was what he dared to say. Isabelle let out a hollow laugh and fixed the old butler with a cold stare.

“Don’t worry. Wasn’t he the very one who brought a whore into his own bed twenty years ago?”

She was referring to Edmund’s biological mother. Though the woman had not been a prostitute, she had been taken in solely to bear a child, which made her no different in Isabelle’s eyes.