Chapter 50

“Come here, Blair.”

Before she could even hold Isaac’s gaze for long, Edmund wrapped an arm around her shoulders. There was a fair amount of strength in the hand that drew her gently toward him.

“We should greet the host.”

“Ah.”

At that moment, a young man who had been chatting and laughing with guests a few steps away glanced over at Edmund and brightened. It was the Marquis of Lancaster, the host of the hunting gathering.

“So you did come after all. I thought you wouldn’t, being newlyweds. Isn’t this the next Duke of Libert?”

At the blatant form of address, Edmund let out a soft scoff. Seeing them exchange a light handshake and bump shoulders, they seemed to be on quite familiar terms.

“Why didn’t you invite me to your wedding? You missed a perfect chance to eat, drink, and enjoy yourself at a grand party.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? We kept it simple with family only. This here is my wife, Lady Libert.”

Caught off guard by the awkward title, Blair didn’t even have time to react. The unfamiliar man’s gaze shifted to her, a thoroughly sly smile settling on his face.

“Lady Libert.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marquis Lancaster.”

“Call me Alexander. And what is the lady’s name?”

“The bride has grown tired from the long journey. It would be best if you had someone show us to our bedroom.”

Edmund said this while smoothly intercepting the marquis’s attempt to take Blair’s hand and kiss it. The host flicked his fingers to summon a servant, and the two of them were soon led to the guest room where they would be staying for the next two nights.

***

Away from the unfamiliar faces and left alone with Edmund, Blair was able to relax for a brief moment and catch her breath. However, she soon ran into another obstacle.

“Don’t tell me we’re staying in the same bedroom?”

“I feel like I’m being asked that question rather often.”

Edmund replied as he took off his coat.

“Unfortunately, yes. The host didn’t see fit to provide separate rooms. Attending an outside gathering together is part of a married couple’s duty, so sharing a bedroom is unavoidable, wouldn’t you say?”

“….”

“I’ll sleep in the armchair. For the next two nights, that will be the best option.”

He added this while glancing sideways at Blair’s bewildered expression. Then, as if it were nothing, he undid the cuff links at his wrist and began removing his shirt. Through the fluttering fabric, a firm chest came into view, and Blair’s face flushed hot as she stared without thinking.

“W-what are you doing right now?”

“As you can see, I’m changing clothes.”

It was a foolish question, and the answer came back just as plainly. He looked as though he couldn’t understand what the issue was. He was simply changing to go out to the hunting grounds. Blair hurriedly turned her back to him. She couldn’t believe how casually he was undressing.

A complaint about at least giving her some warning before stripping suddenly rose to her throat. She was flustered beyond reason. No, was that even a complaint she had any right to make? They had already seen everything there was to see of each other. And yet, because they’d drawn a line in their relationship, the proper boundaries felt vague and uncertain.

The sound of fabric brushing together stopped, and footsteps approached from behind. Blair hunched her shoulders and spoke quickly, almost in a rush.

“Are you finished changing?”

“Thanks to my wife’s kind consideration.”

Blair spun around, brows lifting. Edmund was fastening the final button of his shirt, a faint smile slipping from between his lips.

“Of course, I’m not dressed below the waist yet.”

“Edmund.”

“Miss Blair.”

“What are you trying to do right now? Are you planning to act like husband and wife even when we’re alone?”

“No. Did you already forget what I said about sleeping in the armchair?”

“Did it not occur to you that I’d be flustered if you suddenly started undressing without warning? We’re not a real couple, we’re bound by a contract.”

When she deliberately repeated his own words with clear emphasis, Edmund laughed out loud.

“I know. I just wanted to see you flustered, Miss Blair.”

The sheer absurdity of it made a hollow laugh escape her. Picking up the trousers he was going to change into, Edmund gestured toward the screen.

“I’ll finish changing over there. If I strip down to my trousers here, it looks like my fake wife might faint.”

“Please do. And while I put my dress on behind the screen, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t peek.”

“Of course. If you need any help, feel free to call me.”

“There’s no way I would.”

At her sharp retort, she could practically picture his amused grin even from the other side of the screen. Blair fanned her flushed face with her hand and waited her turn. Her heart refused to calm down, pounding wildly on its own.

***

“Hunting is truly barbaric. Don’t men have any pity for animals at all?”

“Of course they do. Why else would they be gentlemen?”

“Still, I bet Mrs. Hoffman would be delighted if her husband caught a red-tailed fox and made her a stole.”

In the drawing room prepared at the villa, the ladies’ carefully cultivated voices burst into peals of laughter. Sitting demurely at the table, Blair rarely joined the conversation and simply sipped her black tea. Still, she’d come face to face with a welcome acquaintance.

“Countess Gillingham.”

It was the countess she’d met at the gallery party. Though she’d said she wasn’t fluent in the common tongue because she was foreign born, in truth, she spoke it with ease. She simply felt shy about speaking because of her lingering accent. Blair had no trouble conversing with her at all.

“You said you were from a country called Brücken, didn’t you?”

“That’s right.”

“What kind of place is it?”

“It’s always warm. The colors change with every season, so it’s also called a land beloved by painters. Augier was born there and spent his youth there as well.”

“The painter Augier? Just recently, at an exhibition my husband… hosted, I was deeply impressed by his work.”

The countess smiled, shy yet proud. Blair’s expression turned openly curious.

“In Brücken, art is part of everyday life. On sunny afternoons, people gather in ateliers to drink wine and paint together. Quite a few ladies even submit works to exhibitions.”

“That’s fascinating. I always thought such things were only possible as hobbies.”

“It’s an age where art becomes money. That’s how I met my husband, the Count of Gillingham, through a business transaction.”

Indeed, paintings could function as a means of growing one’s assets. They weren’t merely decorations or symbols of refinement, but something that could be traded like currency. Hadn’t she seen a single canvas sell for tens of thousands of francs at the secret auction she’d attended before? And the successful bidder was none other than Edmund, a man who never accepted a loss.

‘Once the contract ends, a year from now….’

For a moment, she pictured Edmund standing in a corner of that distant future. Blair hurriedly shook her head, brushing away the afterimage of him. Life belonged to her alone, and plans had to be made by herself. It still felt far off, but if she calmly laid out her plans for a year later, it wouldn’t be a bad future at all. In that sense, it was fortunate that he’d drawn such a firm line between them.

‘If it’s Brücken, a country that mixes languages, it might really not be a bad choice….’

“Come to think of it, there seem to be quite a few newlywed brides here, don’t there?”

“Oh my.”

A noblewoman covered her mouth and swept her gaze around as she spoke.

“Lady Libert is here, and Lady Hoffman as well. Viscountess Feinberg has been married for over a month, but she’s still practically a newlywed too, isn’t she?”

“Then shall we take turns bragging about our husbands?”

“Sounds wonderful!”

The women clapped excitedly. Blair was seized by the urge to flee at once, but she couldn’t possibly commit such a socially inept act, so she only swallowed dryly. Her own dignity was Edmund’s dignity. In society, a husband’s standing was upheld through his wife’s words.

“Let’s start with Lady Hoffman, seated here.”

“It’s an honor. As for my husband, Lord Hoffman, he’s a splendid gentleman who will officially become Count Hoffman next month. He handles firearms exceptionally well, and his handwriting is simply beautiful….”

“Are you perhaps referring to your husband’s skillful hands?”

“Oh my.”

Amid the hellish atmosphere of everyone bursting into laughter, Blair thought of Edmund’s merits. Of course, he was a man with many admirable qualities, but the strengths Blair knew were rather intimate and personal, not things she wished to share with others. The solid hands that held her when she wavered, that careful consideration, and the face that sometimes smiled playfully like a boy.

So she should recite compliments acceptable in polite society. What could she say? Empty flattery would be easy, so she needed to think of something quickly.

“At last, it’s Lady Libert’s turn!”

“To be honest, you’re the one we’re most curious about. We’ve even laid out a cushion for you, so why don’t you brag about your husband to your heart’s content?”