Chapter 82

So the duchess crossed the line. In what way, exactly? Edmund could guess without needing an answer, but he needed firmer certainty.

“The woman I saw revered her husband as if he were the sky itself. How could someone like that dare challenge your authority?”

The Duke of Libert did not answer again. His fingers, dried and shriveled like dead branches, trembled as he struggled to breathe. It was so fragile and faint that it seemed it could go out with a single passing gust of wind.

“Father.”

Thud, thud. Edmund’s heart beat fast. William’s gaze wandered through the air, clouded and unfocused, and the breath leaving his lips crumbled like rotting paper. Even the air around the bed began to change. The scent of old medicinal herbs mixed with the cooling warmth of a human body, turning into the smell of death.

“Edmund, Edmund…. You are, my, my… heir.”

Even as his consciousness faded, the duke blindly sought his bloodline, as if a body on the brink of death were clinging desperately to its last lifeline. Edmund watched his father with cold eyes.

There was only one value that mattered most to the duke: the honor of the family. The name of Libert, passed down through generations. Because that name itself was order and privilege, the duke tolerated not even the smallest crack.

To him, an heir was not simply an inheritor. It was a vessel to receive the honor he treasured so dearly, an existence meant to carry the family beyond time.

Perhaps that was why he described Isabelle’s actions as an affront to his authority. He must have seen it as a violation of his domain, a threat to order itself.

So if Isabelle harmed Edmund’s birth mother, the duke’s anger wouldn’t have come from love for a mistress, but from humiliation. He would never have mourned the death of a woman who was little more than a fly’s life. The Duke of Libert was not the sort of man who would blink even if a mistress died of illness.

“The sin of the duchess who killed my mother….”

He understood his father. But understanding did not mean forgiveness. To Edmund, he was no different from an accomplice.

“Are you admitting it?”

Still, no answer came. William, whose breathing broke off in ragged gasps, finally moved his lips.

“Those who defy my authority must pay the price.”

And then all his movements stopped. The faint breath that had been leaking out, the slight trembling of his fingers, ceased completely.

A cold silence settled over the bedroom. Edmund closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them and rose from his seat.

Sensing the change, Benjamin, who had been waiting in the sitting room, appeared with a cautious expression. Behind him, the servants who had been tending the duke bowed their heads, holding their breath. Edmund gestured toward the bed with his chin.

“Check him.”

Benjamin walked quietly to the bed and felt the duke’s pulse, which was unmoving. He held his fingertips close to the duke’s nose to check for breath, then turned to Edmund after a moment and nodded. Edmund declared softly to the servants.

“The duke has passed away.”

There was not the slightest tremor in the voice that delivered the death notice.

“Prepare the funeral immediately, according to procedure.”

***

The rainstorm that had stopped began to rage again from the moment the Duke of Libert met his end.

Blair looked away after staring blankly at the rain pouring down outside the window. Edmund, who had just returned to the bedroom, stood in front of the mirror and fastened the buttons of his shirt. His expression was as flat as ever.

What should she say to him? Edmund showed no sign of grief or mourning over his father’s death. Yet inside him, something like a violent upheaval was clearly taking place. Blair could now recognize the bare face hidden beneath that perfect exterior.

“The duke’s will….”

When she finally forced the words out, Edmund’s hand, which had been fastening the buttons all the way up to his neck, slowed to a stop. The man turned to look at her, his face still showing no particular expression.

“When will it be made public?”

“After the funeral. The executor will read it aloud before the family and witnesses.”

“Then….”

“We’ll have to wait three more days.”

After answering briefly, Edmund walked into the dressing room where clothing and accessories were kept. Since there was no door, Blair could clearly see him take something out and return.

It was a tie. One she had given him before.

“It’s an important day.”

Edmund smiled faintly as he handed her the neat, monochrome tie. Blair let out a quiet sigh, a strange feeling stirring inside her. Why was that?

“I’ll wear it on an important day. You can put it on me yourself then.”

Was it because she never imagined that day would be a funeral?

Unable to say it out loud, she silently accepted the silk tie. Then she stepped closer and faced him, reaching up to drape it around his neck.

When Blair’s fingertips brushed lightly against the back of his neck, the breath touching her forehead deepened for a brief moment. His broad chest expanded soundlessly, and the gaze fixed on her sank darkly. Blair lifted her eyes and checked his expression.

“Is it uncomfortable?”

“No. It’s fine.”

She formed the knot at a slow pace. Even the downward tug of her hands was careful.

It couldn’t be helped. Edmund, standing before a funeral, was dressed as impeccably as ever, but there was a sharp edge beneath it, like walking along a blade.

“So… what will happen to me now?”

“What do you mean?”

“The title. The reason we were tied together in the first place was because of that title. You probably can’t be sure yet either, but… I just wanted to know what you think.”

Edmund remained silent for a moment. He only traced her face with his deep gray eyes, deliberately taking his time. Blair found it hard to meet his gaze and busied herself with the knot instead.

“My father left the title to me.”

The answer came a moment later, delivered with complete certainty. Only then did Blair look up at him.

“…Really?”

“I’m sure.”

Edmund stated it without the slightest doubt. His unhesitating attitude left Blair more flustered instead.

How could he be so certain? There was no way he could have checked the will in advance. The notarized document should still be sealed, and if the seal were broken before it was read before witnesses, it would lose its legal validity.

Then he must have gained that certainty while meeting the duke alone just before his death….

“Rufus won’t even have the slightest chance.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because that would be the punishment my father could give the duchess.”

Blair tilted her head, not quite understanding. But it wasn’t something she could press further, so she finished tying the tie and offered a careful smile.

“Then… that’s a relief.”

“….”

“It really is a relief, Edmund.”

“Thank you.”

“The tie suits you too.”

Only then did Edmund smile, a low sound scattering like a breeze. Dressed in black mourning clothes, the two of them stood still, facing each other like a black-and-white portrait.

“That’s also a relief.”

And then silence fell again. Blair didn’t avert her gaze from the eyes looking down at her. She met those dark pupils, like sudden storm clouds rolling in. She had never known this man as well as she did now, yet strangely, this moment felt the most unfamiliar.

She soon learned why.

Edmund bent forward in a long stride, tilted his head, and kissed Blair. Accustomed to his touch, she naturally closed her eyes and accepted his lips, then abruptly forced her eyelids open. At some point, his large hands had gripped both her shoulders, holding her so she couldn’t retreat anywhere.

Caught by the man’s overwhelming strength, the kiss resumed. Without giving her a chance to react, his tongue pushed straight between her parted lips.

“…Ngh, I….”

Blair was shoved back a couple of steps by the man pressing in roughly and twisted her head aside.

“No…!”

She hurriedly reached out and pushed him away. As she gasped for the breath that had been cut off in an instant, Edmund looked down at her with flashing eyes.

“You can’t do this….”

“….”

“We have to hold the funeral now. So this kind of thing….”

Even as she spoke, Blair found herself watching his face as if observing it. She wanted to know what he felt as he looked at her, what he was thinking when he kissed her.

Before she could figure it out, Edmund drew in a deep breath and stepped back, leaving a small distance between them.

“I understand.”

After a brief silence, he picked up the black jacket hanging on the rack and put it on. Then he held his hand out to Blair.

“Shall we go?”

“…Yes.”

The two of them left the bedroom and walked down the corridor without exchanging a word. As they headed toward the chapel where the funeral would be held, Blair had to suppress the urge to look up at him.

One thing she could be certain of was that what flickered in Edmund’s eyes was not sexual desire or instinct. It was something more urgent than that, something closer to the look he’d had at Chails when he’d nearly lost his reason, demanding affection.