Chapter 46

The sound of running water echoed clearly through the bathroom. Steam carrying the scent of flowers rose toward the ceiling, and the bathwater, clouded white by dissolved oils, held a gentle warmth. Blair lay immersed in it, watching the surface ripple. Ever since entering the bathroom, she’d been lost in deep thought.

It still didn’t feel real that she’d gone through a wedding today, nor that she was facing her wedding night, even though they’d agreed not to touch even a fingertip. More than that, what felt most unreal was the vicious tirade of the duchess she’d overheard after slipping away from the reception.

The grotesque words that poured out through that elegant voice, the curses that were no different from maledictions hurled at Edmund, were deeply shocking. Even her father, the most frightening and strict person Blair had known in her life, had never spoken in such a way. And Edmund looked like someone to whom such abuse was painfully familiar.

“He’s grown numb from familiarity.”

How much suffering would it take to grow numb to venomous words wishing you’d fall into hell, that you should’ve died like your mother?

She would have crumbled on the spot, but Edmund hadn’t wavered in the slightest, as if he’d endured the same situation hundreds of times before. That calm expression of his was the most shocking thing of all.

Had Edmund truly grown numb? Or was that numbness the scar left behind after years of his mind being gnawed away? To endure and survive in Eldenvale, he must’ve learned the habit of numbing himself.

Blair could easily imagine the countless wounds hidden beneath that dry, emotionless demeanor, and her chest began to ache.

She felt like she finally understood why Edmund put contracts first. And why, unlike her, he declared trust to be fickle. To ask someone like that whether she could trust him must’ve sounded unbearably light.

With a sigh, Blair slowly drew her knees into her arms. The maid who had been gently scrubbing her shoulders with a soft sponge glanced at her complexion.

“Is the water temperature all right?”

“…Ah, yes. It’s fine.”

Fragrant bathwater flowed down over her crown. Soap lather worked through her hair twice, and rosewater prepared in a basin washed over her body one last time. To a maid who believed without question that Blair would be spending her wedding night in earnest, helping with the bath seemed to be a matter she took very seriously.

Her water-damp lashes fluttered once. The contract she shared with Edmund was, in other words, a secret known only to the two of them. Even after witnessing the duchess’s cruelty, Blair’s desire to build trust with him remained unchanged. The clouded look in her eyes hardened into resolve before much time passed.

If trust was needed, wasn’t it something she could give, rather than demand from Edmund? The most effective way to open the heart of someone armored in cold reason was steady warmth that seeped in over time. It might not be a method that worked in Borsa’s social circles, but Blair was still someone who believed it was the only right one.

And a man like Edmund, above all others, was someone who needed trust even more.

‘When he comes back to the bedroom, I’ll tell him everything honestly.’

She resolved to apologize. That the day before the wedding, Isabelle had summoned her and made pointed remarks, that today at the reception she’d followed him without thinking, and that she’d unintentionally overheard a private conversation. She needed to tell him she was truly sorry.

With that decision made, she slipped on a bathrobe. When Blair looked at herself in the mirror, there was a firm resolve set in her expression.

***

Footsteps echoed steadily along the corridor without hesitation. As he headed toward the marital bedroom, Edmund replayed the final exchange he’d had with the duke moments ago.

“I refuse the witnessing ritual.”

To try to revive a vulgar custom abolished a hundred years ago. To cross the threshold and watch a husband and wife consummate their union. It was madness. The very thought made him nauseous.

“You insolent brat! At a time when your father’s life hangs by a thread, continuing the ducal line should be your highest priority. And you dare defy us? You refuse to prove that you’ve truly become husband and wife?”

The Duke of Libert doubted his son’s sincerity on the wedding night. That was the real problem.

“If it’s proof you want, I’ll provide more than enough.”

If even the duke demanded proof, then even if tonight passed without incident, there was no avoiding the issue forever. Edmund understood better than anyone that a proper compromise had to be found.

“Have the priest and attendants stand in the corridor instead of the bedroom. I believe that proof will be sufficient even if they don’t witness the consummation with their own eyes.”

“….”

“Will that suffice as a compromise?”

The Duke of Libert, who had maintained silence, eventually nodded. Isabelle added something in clear dissatisfaction, but since the final authority rested with the duke and he’d agreed, the discussion ended there. Now, how Blair would receive this was the beginning of yet another problem.

For the sake of the title’s succession, choosing her as the bride had seemed a good decision in many ways. She was a woman he wouldn’t become emotionally entangled with, nor physically involved with.

Even the simplified wedding held with her had been explained well enough within the family. Rushing the ceremony was advantageous to quell the scandal caused by the broken engagement, and it was considered a rational decision for producing an heir.

And yet, he had no choice but to admit that matters were growing increasingly troublesome.

“…This is getting ridiculous.”

A hollow laugh slipped from Edmund’s lips as he entered the corridor where the marital bedroom was located. At some point, a priest dressed in immaculate white robes and seven attendants were already lined up solemnly before the bedroom door.

They moved quickly. Every one of the attendants hidden beneath large hoods was a strikingly young man. Had they come running like dogs the moment they heard a witnessing ritual was to be performed? With a sneer, Edmund put strength into his stride.

Blair was already inside the bedroom. He’d personally seen her there. Perhaps it was a blessing that she hadn’t witnessed those shameless men lined up before the door. In any case, he had to inform her about the witnessing ritual and coordinate their words. He’d managed to push them out into the corridor, but ‘proof’ was still required. Proving it with sound instead of sight shouldn’t be difficult, should it?

Edmund stopped in front of the witnesses.

Not difficult at all. Or was it, really?

For that impeccably virtuous woman?

The priest and attendants stood facing forward with faces more devout than ever. After sweeping his gaze over each of them, Edmund reached out and turned the doorknob.

The woman wasn’t in sight, likely still in the bathroom. Edmund stood there and pressed his tired fingers against his brow, then rummaged through his trouser pocket and took out a cigarette and a lighter. He put a cigarette between his lips, lit it roughly, and walked over to the window.

“Ha….”

He exhaled smoke and a sigh together into the darkened view beyond the open window. Underestimating his father’s madness over an heir had been his mistake. Since there was no other successor to inherit the ducal title, he’d assumed the path of succession wouldn’t be difficult. But put another way, it also meant that his father’s obsession would fall squarely on his shoulders.

“Edmund?”

That was when a clear, gentle voice sounded behind him.

“…Weren’t you going to wash up in the other bathroom?”

Blair stood at the bathroom doorway, tilting her head in confusion. Fresh from her bath, a warm flush colored both her cheeks. She found it strange that he’d left the bedroom and returned, yet still looked the same.

Edmund glanced toward the maid who had followed Blair out. The maid was hurriedly draping a robe over Blair, who was dressed only in a chemise.

“I was planning to.”

“Then…?”

“Something came up for a moment.”

This time, Blair was the one who fell silent. Edmund gave a look toward the maid.

“If you’re finished, you may leave now.”

“Yes, Young Master.”

The young maid bowed hurriedly. After giving Blair, who was still standing in front of the bathroom, one more glance, Edmund crushed the cigarette he hadn’t even finished smoking and strode over, personally throwing the bedroom door open.

He deliberately flung it wide, holding onto a final hope, but Blair didn’t move a single step. From where she stood, she couldn’t see the corridor at all.

The maid quietly slipped out of the bedroom. The moment she crossed the threshold, the sound of her sharply inhaling in surprise rang out when she saw the line of men standing there. But Blair, standing farther back, didn’t notice any of it. For some reason, the look in her eyes fixed on him seemed lost in complicated thoughts, as though she didn’t even have the presence of mind to listen to her surroundings.