Chapter 43

Blair held her teacup and carefully chose her words. They said the most effective lies were the ones mixed with truth.

“He’s… not someone who reveals his true feelings easily, of course. But because of that, I think he’s all the more serious. Once he sets his mind on something, he always follows through with action. That aspect of him is what allowed me to trust and rely on him.”

“Hmm.”

Isabelle let out a soft, humming laugh and took another sip of tea. After the brief silence was filled by the clink of porcelain, Isabelle continued.

“That child is, you see, like a calculator. He’s very good at grasping exactly what others want. But do you think that comes from sincerity? It’s a habit born of weighing what he needs and how he can obtain it.”

“What you’re saying is… do you believe that’s wrong, madam?”

“Wrong? No. It’s a useful talent if you want to survive. But tell me, can you truly trust someone so calculating?”

For a moment, it felt as if her heart had been struck dead center, sending a sharp ache through her chest. It was the very doubt Blair herself had wrestled with in the past, now laid bare by Isabelle’s question. But she couldn’t afford to waver here and be swept along by her pace.

“I thought of it instead as a strength I don’t possess.”

Almost as if reciting a spell to reassure herself, Blair continued, “I tend to hesitate and put off decisions, but he always reaches conclusions calmly and decisively. That made him seem very dependable to me, and above all, trustworthy.”

“Yes, yes. You really do see the world through such pure eyes, perhaps because you’re still young.”

With a slightly dulled expression, Isabelle let out a short breath. Her smile, bordering on arrogance, remained unwavering.

“I suppose it’s fortunate you came to Eldenvale. You see, it rains often here, so rainbows rarely appear. Illusions fade quickly. That was the case for me as well.”

Isabelle turned her gaze toward the window. The eyes staring beyond the glass briefly took on a light of recollection before returning to Blair.

“So remember this, child. If living as the wife of an ambitious man ever feels overwhelming, remember that I’m the one person here who can understand you best.”

The voice that slid coolly into her ear lingered for an unusually long time. Following Edmund’s advice, Blair smiled just enough and lifted her teacup. The black tea she barely touched had already gone cold.

7. The Ceremony

At last, the wedding day arrived, not even a full week after Blair came to Eldenvale.

Standing by the window, Blair watched the guests make their way toward the chapel in the rear garden. The much-talked-about wedding was set to be held privately and on a small scale. It seemed strange that the Duke of Libert, a paragon of nobility, would readily accept Edmund’s request for a simple ceremony, but thanks to that, the Dorman family hadn’t been invited, which was a tremendous relief.

Watching the guests gather one by one, the reality of the wedding finally set in. Only close relatives living in the Kingdom of Genoa had been invited, yet her hands still trembled. Was it because it was a sham marriage after all?

“You look truly beautiful.”

At the sudden voice, Blair turned her head. It was a compliment from the young maid who always helped her get dressed.

“The dress suits you perfectly too.”

…Milia, was it? She was the type who quietly did her work rather than being chatty, so there were rarely chances for small talk. But seeing Blair in a pure white dress, she seemed to have spoken up for once.

“Thank you.”

The truth was, the dress had originally been fitted for the wedding she’d been planning with Isaac Dorman. She couldn’t bring herself to add that, and instead looked at the woman reflected in the mirror. The veil, the sparkling jewelry, the wedding gown, all the elegant adornments made her look beautiful, yet her expression didn’t look particularly happy.

“It’s time. We’ll escort you to the chapel now.”

Instead of answering, Blair nodded and stepped forward. Her gloved hands were cold and stiff with tension.

It was exactly as she’d expected. That she would be forced to face an unpleasant expression before the chapel doors.

“…Father.”

It was Count Twyford. He was waiting for her with an even colder expression than usual.

“Don’t make any more mistakes.”

And then came the warning, not at all unexpected.

“Do you have any idea how much criticism I had to endure for this moment? For the sake of the family, make sure you conduct yourself flawlessly as the bride of the Libert heir.”

Unlike the icy chill in her fingertips, a fierce anger surged up in her chest. Her last memory of him was being locked in her bedroom for defying his will, denied even a single sip of water. She hadn’t wanted an apology, but how could he be so shameless?

“Your daughter’s groom changed overnight. Does that not trouble you at all?”

“…What?”

“Of course it doesn’t. You must have already reaped an adequate reward.”

“You crazy…!”

“If you’re thinking of striking a bride on her wedding day, that wouldn’t be a wise choice, Father.”

The moment she finished speaking, the chapel doors swung wide open. Count Twyford’s face, straining to suppress his fury, flushed red and blue by turns. The father and daughter, who didn’t resemble each other in the slightest, soon walked into the hall filled with beautiful music.

All eyes of the guests turned toward the bride at once. There couldn’t have been more than a hundred people at most, yet the weight of their gazes felt several times that number, pressing down on Blair’s shoulders. As she moved her heavy steps forward, she fixed her eyes straight ahead.

Edmund stood there in a black formal suit. He didn’t look the least bit excited, but that, too, was very much like him. Blair, on the other hand, clutched at a heart surging with emotions she couldn’t name and took one step after another, until she finally reached out and took his hand.

After Count Twyford stepped back, the two of them stood facing each other before the altar. The priest officiating the ceremony began the rites in a solemn voice.

Even while exchanging rings, Blair could still tell herself she was holding up reasonably well. Her fingertips trembled slightly, but her mind wasn’t clouded. However, the moment the priest declared the marriage, everything grew distant.

“Today, under the name of God and the laws of Genoa, I declare that these two are joined as husband and wife. The vows made here will be inscribed in the history and traditions of the kingdom and remain in the memories of all witnesses. This sacred vow cannot be broken by anyone.”

The guests offered thunderous applause in celebration of the union. To them, the declaration must have sounded like a most solemn blessing, but to Blair, it felt like the sound of shackles being fastened.

After swearing such a terrifying declaration of marriage, was divorce even possible? While her mind swirled with countless thoughts, the man standing before her slowly lifted her veil.

Meeting his familiar gaze, Blair blinked. It was a look asking if she was ready. Even knowing it was part of the traditional order of the ceremony, she couldn’t help but swallow hard.

The face looking down at her drew closer, and their lips brushed together very lightly. His soft lips gently caught her lower lip, then released it. Before she even had time to close her eyes, he pulled his upper body back. When the restrained kiss ended, the applause grew louder than before. Soon, the two of them crossed the chapel aisle with the guests lining both sides. It was time for the reception.

“You must’ve been nervous, but you’re doing well.”

“Am I? I feel like I was just shaking like a fool.”

“There’s no bride who doesn’t tremble. It’s fine. Just endure a little longer. It’ll be over soon.”

The voice coming from the man beside her shoulder was unusually gentle. Blair didn’t reply further and simply held tightly onto Edmund’s arm. Her steps toward the banquet hall felt a little lighter.

***

“It would be best to go easy on alcohol.”

As Blair stood before a table set with refreshments and liquor, hesitating, Edmund advised her as such. When she nodded in agreement, he poured non alcoholic cider into a tall glass and handed it to her.

“Thank you. It’s something I like.”

“That’s a relief.”

Then, quite naturally, he guided Blair to a nearby table and sat with her. Blair glanced toward the guests dancing in pairs or drinking, then whispered, “Is it all right if we don’t greet the guests?”

“It’s fine. It’s a hassle, and if we’re whispering together like this, we’ll look like a close couple, so it’s actually to our advantage.”

“I suppose so.”