Chapter 83

In the chapel located on the grounds behind the mansion, a solemn funeral march played. A sudden downpour pressed the chapel under deep darkness, while dozens of silver candlesticks cast their light throughout the space.

The priest stood before the wooden coffin where the Duke of Libert lay and recited prayers, Isabelle’s quiet sobs occasionally mixing in. Even those were soon drowned out by the sound of rain striking the stained glass with force.

As the ceremony was held with only family present, the old butler approached Edmund quietly and whispered to him, “Young master. The nobles from near the capital will soon join the line of mourners, and from this evening, guests from across the kingdom are expected to arrive in stages.”

“What of my great-uncle abroad and his family?”

“They departed early thanks to the advance notice. At the earliest, they’ll arrive tomorrow evening, and at the latest, by dawn the day after.”

“That’s a relief. Check the waiting room on the east side of the chapel for mourners, and prepare bedrooms as well for those coming from afar.”

“I’ll see to it.”

Butler Albert bowed respectfully and withdrew. His demeanor, befitting a senior servant who had served the ducal household since before Edmund was born, was impeccable. Isabelle, wiping her tears with a handkerchief, cast them a sideways glance. There was nothing gentle in her gaze.

With herself and Rufus still very much present as duchess and heir, it was only natural she found it unpleasant that Edmund was already receiving reports as if he were the master of House Libert.

Uncomfortable with the unspoken tension, Blair clasped her hands in front of her and held her breath. Then she followed Edmund as he stepped toward the coffin. According to the order of the ceremony, it was time to offer a white lily in mourning.

She accepted a single lily from the priest’s attendant and carefully laid it beside the coffin. After closing her eyes to offer a prayer, she slowly opened them. Her gaze drifted, without her realizing it, to the face of the deceased.

The Duke of Libert, resting within the cedar coffin, looked like a man peacefully asleep. Aside from the pallor drained of all color, he looked little different from when he was alive. It sent a chill down her spine.

While the priest recited the requiem prayers, Edmund didn’t move at all, unlike the sniffling Isabelle or Rufus. He simply looked down at the pale face framed by white lilies. Standing beside him, Blair felt her emotions grow complicated. The moment she’d exchanged wedding vows in this very place came back to her.

But the applause from that day had turned into mournful sobs, and the hymn of blessing into a somber funeral march. The bright lighting was gone without a trace, replaced only by the dim shadows brought in by gathering storm clouds that filled the chapel.

Only then did Blair realize it. This place was where the history of House Libert circled endlessly. Where newborns were baptized, love bore fruit, and life came to an end. The time of the ducal family had always begun and ended within these walls.

Perhaps that was why. The unease that had welled up from nowhere when she stood at the altar on their wedding day.

Looking back, it was fear. A vague intuition that she was stepping too deeply in, that she was being bound to Edmund’s world.

Blair didn’t know how to leave him. More than anything, she didn’t want to. If she could, she wanted to stay by his side forever. But she couldn’t be sure that the man standing shoulder to shoulder with her felt the same.

It was early autumn now, when the evening wind had grown quite chilly. The contract had begun in early spring, so about half a year had passed, and there were only another half year or so left.

Watching the clock hands that never stopped moving, her heart grew restless for no reason. What should she do to hold on to his heart? What should she do to make him whisper love to her?

She wished he would look only at her. That he would be helplessly swayed by her. That he would want love as desperately as she did and struggle for it with all his strength. That every breath he took, every word he spoke, even the slightest glance of his eyes would all be directed at her….

Blair looked at the Duke of Libert with eyes filled with desperation. It was a face that closely resembled Edmund’s. When she suddenly realized that she was inflating her desire in front of a lifeless body, a chill ran through her. Wearing the mask of mourning for the dead while inwardly trying to seize a man’s heart made her feel unbearably ugly.

As she clutched the hem of her black skirt and let out a trembling sigh, she felt a gaze on her from beside her. Then cool fingers brushed against Blair’s cheek. When she lifted her head, she met Edmund’s eyes.

“Are you all right? You don’t look well.”

“…Yes.”

“You can go in and rest first. The family’s mourning rites end here for today.”

“No, I want to stay by your side.”

Instead of answering, Edmund looked down at Blair in silence. She didn’t avert her eyes and met his gaze head-on. His ash-gray eyes moved slowly, sliding to her lips. Then to her jawline, lingering near her straight neck, before rising again to stare straight into her eyes.

While their gazes remained locked, the priest’s solemn prayers echoed through the chapel. The mournful music and the sound of rain striking the stained glass filled the silence even further. Blair felt she would never forget this moment.

***

Beyond the window of the couple’s bedroom, the rear garden lay fully in view. By late afternoon, lines of mourners who’d gathered from all over stretched toward the chapel like a black tide. Through the slightly open window, a faint air of mourning drifted in. It was a sight that inevitably weighed on the heart.

“Is it still difficult?”

Blair, who had been standing by the window looking outside, turned around. When she only blinked, not immediately understanding, Edmund added as he removed his black jacket. His voice was low and dry.

“Because we’re in mourning.”

“…Ah.”

It meant he was trying to resume what they had been forced to stop earlier because of her refusal before leaving for the chapel that morning. Edmund draped the jacket he’d taken off over the sofa and stood there in silence, waiting for her answer. His expression was remarkably calm.

Blair’s gaze drifted toward the dark procession of mourners. As Edmund said, the family’s mourning rites were over, but the funeral itself was still underway. Was it really appropriate to be intimate with a man at a time like this?

Her mind told her it was inappropriate. Morally wrong. Wouldn’t anyone think so? The Blair from before she met him would never even have imagined it. To share a body with him on the very day his father had just passed away, when the tide of mourning had yet to subside, was that even acceptable? Not even the most wanton temptress would indulge in lust against the backdrop of death.

Yet strangely, the boundary of taboo she’d guarded so strictly was beginning to blur.

Blair looked at Edmund again. What she could read on that flat expression was neither grief nor crude desire. It was the gaze of someone trying to fill a collapsed place with anything at all. Trying to confirm that he was still alive amid the shadows of death closing in on all sides.

And Blair wanted to turn away from her guilt and hold him. If she could keep him with her, even like this.

“…No, I….”

She hesitated, then continued, “I’m fine.”

Edmund looked at her for a moment, as if confirming her consent, then slowly stepped closer. His approach was unhurried but without hesitation, closing the distance. When he was close enough for their breaths to touch, he reached out.

The moment his large hand cupped her cheek, Blair closed her eyes. Soon, soft lips met hers. As if to reassure her, Edmund brushed his lips against hers once or twice, then parted her closed lips and slid his tongue inside. Their breathing tangled deeply, and she could feel his breath growing heavier by the second. His scent, thick with rain, grew stronger as well.

At some point, a hand slipped beneath her thigh and lifted her easily. Startled, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he seated her on the round table in front of them. It was the kind used for tea or reading.

Still gasping, not understanding what was happening, Blair felt Edmund twist her chin again and kiss her. With hurried hands, he lifted the hem of her black skirt, groped along her thigh, and stripped away her underwear. Before the fabric caught at her knees could even fall away, he undid the buckle of his trousers.

Then he thrust into her in one swift motion. It was a rough, desperate invasion.