Chapter 38

Blair didn’t even have time to properly take in the interior of the mansion after stepping inside. Isabelle Libert, the Duchess said to carry royal blood from her maternal line, wished to meet her immediately.

The fact that she hadn’t even come out to greet them made it clear enough that Blair wasn’t welcome. She’d heard enough to roughly guess why. A man born a bastard becoming the heir despite a legitimate eldest son still alive. Anyone with sense could imagine how Isabelle and the half-brother would look at Edmund.

Each step echoed loudly in every direction. Thanks to that, the sound of her tense, trembling breaths didn’t stand out unpleasantly.

As they passed the portraits lining both walls, Edmund said, “My mother isn’t related to me by a single drop of blood, and she’s aristocratic to the bone, so she rarely speaks directly. Whether it’s praise or insult, she prefers to dress it up in silk before throwing it.”

“….”

“So when dealing with her, it’s better to just smile it off or give suitably vague answers.”

“She doesn’t strike me as a foolish woman. Will that really be all right? If it only provokes her further….”

“I mean, you shouldn’t try to interpret her intentions. It’s completely pointless.”

Trying to read the layered inner thoughts of others was a habit of Blair’s, so her mind was already going blank. Leaving behind words that were neither quite a warning nor advice, Edmund soon stopped before the reception room door. He paused, looked Blair over steadily, then raised his hand and knocked.

“You called for us.”

“Come in.”

A slightly high-pitched voice granted permission. Blair quietly stepped into a space filled with a heavy, pungent fragrance.

Isabelle sat on a velvet sofa placed directly facing the door, like a throne. The middle-aged duchess was elegant and beautiful beyond what her age would suggest. Her appearance played a part, but her attire contributed just as much. Every part of her body that could bear accessories glittered with jewels. The blue eyes fixed on Blair were as sharp as the gemstones she wore.

“So you’ve come. This child must be…?”

“I’ll introduce her. This is my fiancée, Lady Blair of the House of Twyford.”

Blair immediately displayed the etiquette ingrained into her like a tattoo on her body, grasping her skirt and bending her knees. She didn’t hold Isabelle’s gaze for long, and she didn’t forget to lower her voice demurely as she dipped her head.

“It’s a great honor to meet you, Your Grace.”

“Oh my. You’re not what I expected.”

Isabelle deliberately widened her eyes and covered her lips, then rummaged around on the round table and pulled something out. Glancing at it, Blair saw that it was photographs of women dressed in lavish gowns.

“Let’s see. Not Archibald, not Vandergelt. Not Brown, not McDowell… not Howelling either?”

“I believe I just told you she’s from Twyford, Mother.”

“You should step outside for a moment. I asked to see only your fiancée in the first place. Has the butler’s hearing finally failed him?”

“You’re calling for my fiancée separately before we’ve even unpacked our luggage. Is it such urgent business?”

“I was simply curious. You passed over every bride candidate your father selected, so I wondered just how remarkable a young lady she must be. But seeing her in person….”

Isabelle slowly swept her gaze over Blair from the crown of her head down to her toes.

“Where did you say you’re from?”

At the Duchess’s question, Blair bowed her head once more and answered, “I’m from northern Glassford, Your Grace. It’s a territory the House of Twyford has governed for a long time.”

“So plain. Plainness can be a virtue. Perhaps you really are a suitable bride for Edmund. As for whether you’re fit to sit as mistress of a ducal house… that’s something we’ll have to see over time.”

“If the greetings are finished, we’ll take our leave. I don’t think there’s any need to hear more than this.”

“To cut off your elder mid-sentence. Is that what they teach at Longwood, the prestigious private academy?”

“I don’t recall being taught much at this estate, so I can only act as I was taught at school.”

The exchange between mother and son, not a single drop of blood shared between them, crackled with tension. Blair couldn’t lift her neatly bowed head. She could feel the back of her neck stiffening.

“I happened to read a very interesting article.”

At that, Isabelle smiled and pulled out a newspaper. Blair kept her head lowered and only shifted her eyes. As expected, it was that gossip article that had spun a lurid tale about her drunken state at the gallery party.

“Is it true? That you were engaged to the Marquis of Dorman’s son?”

“…It is.”

“Then you’ve even gone through a broken engagement. Isn’t that what society calls a disgrace?”

Edmund started to step away, as if none of this was worth hearing, but Blair didn’t move. Strength gathered in her toes.

“I don’t consider it disgraceful, Your Grace.”

“What did you just say?”

“It’s true that one shouldn’t smear the face of a former fiancé, but because of him, I was placed in a difficult position. Perhaps it was my own lack of resolve. It was then that Lord Libert appeared and took my hand.”

Isabelle knit her brows, as if she’d heard something unexpected. Should she continue? Since Edmund didn’t stop her, Blair carried on in a clear voice.

“That became our bond, and led us to a marriage tie. It’s because Lord Libert, at least, never saw me as jewelry or a chess piece.”

The Duchess scowled deeply, glaring into the air with an expression that seemed to say it was the most foolish, idiotic thing she’d ever heard.

“Fine, fine. The two of you have accomplished something thoroughly unbecoming of nobles these days. Since you look like a perfectly matched pair, I’ll pray that you maintain your bond for a long time.”

“Thank you for your concern, Duchess.”

“It would be rude to keep guests for too long. You may go now.”

“I look forward to your continued guidance.”

Just as she had when she first greeted her, Blair bent her knees and bowed her head. Edmund didn’t offer Isabelle so much as a farewell, flinging the door open and striding out into the corridor.

Only once they were far enough from the reception room did he stop, and Blair let out the breath she’d been holding. The only reason she didn’t collapse as her knees gave way was because, at some point, she’d been gripping Edmund’s arm tightly.

“…Was I perhaps careless?”

“No. It wasn’t bad.”

Edmund added, checking Blair’s complexion, “From today on, my mother likely sees you as someone who isn’t much of a threat.”

“Because I spoke in a way unbecoming of a noble?”

“Yes.”

Lowering her eyes, Blair felt a flicker of confusion. So should she be glad, or should she feel insulted? Edmund had said from the start that he didn’t need a model wife. Then perhaps this meant she was doing well.

“Then I suppose it’s a relief that at least I wasn’t an obstacle.”

“It’s too early to feel at ease, but for now, yes. More importantly, I should show you to your quarters. This way, Miss Blair.”

Edmund led her toward the staircase going upstairs. After following him for a while, she was guided into a spacious bedroom. The room, which looked out over a dense forest of towering conifers beyond the window, left a strong impression with its antique furnishings.

“It’s a beautiful bedroom.”

“I’m glad you like it. You’ll be staying here alone until the wedding, so if there’s anything that makes you uncomfortable, tell me at any time.”

At his meaningful remark, Blair stopped mid-step while surveying the interior and turned her head. With a vague sense of apprehension, she met Edmund’s eyes as if to confirm what he meant.

“Then after the wedding….”