Deceived, Yet Drawn to You - Chapter 125

As planned, Rufus’s body was laid to rest in the family cemetery on the hill in Eldenvale.

As the workers covered the coffin, which had been carried from the chapel, with soil, Edmund stood still and watched.

Who could have imagined Rufus would leave the world in such a futile way? It would’ve been better if he’d gone to Rorschach and outlived his usefulness there. Instead, he lost his life while struggling with a prostitute in the night streets. Was there a more meaningless end?

Only after the coffin was completely covered with earth did Edmund shift his gaze slightly. A few steps away, Isabelle stood with an expressionless face. Without shedding a single tear, without even the slightest movement, she stared down at Rufus’s coffin as it was laid to rest.

That sight strangely unsettled Edmund.

It wasn’t unreasonable for her to seem out of her senses after losing the son who’d been everything to her, but the Isabelle of now didn’t look like someone who had given up everything in despair. If anything, she seemed calm.

He knew better than anyone the reason for that stillness. It was the expression she wore when calculating her next move, when she had set a clear objective and focused on nothing else.

Soon, a cold wind swept across the hill, and the priest made the sign of the cross and spoke in a low voice.

“The one laid to rest in this earth has now departed the turmoil of the world and shall sleep in peace.”

Isabelle, Blair, and the few senior servants gathered before the grave closed their eyes. Edmund, who had been watching Isabelle until then, lowered his gaze a moment later.

“Grant peace and rest to the one who has departed, and let those who remain understand the meaning of life and move forward.”

Even as he listened to the quiet prayer, the unrest within him refused to settle. He could already see the struggle that would begin the moment this ceremony ended.

Moving slowly, Edmund lowered his hand and took Blair’s hand in his. It was an unconscious response to his unease. The more he wavered, the more he needed to confirm that she was close.

At the sudden contact, Blair, who had been standing with her eyes closed, looked up at him in slight surprise. Soon, she gave a faint smile and tightened her grip on his hand. Edmund couldn’t take his eyes off her face.

It was astonishing how the warmth of such a fragile woman could calm the turmoil in his heart. The negative thoughts and the anxiety that had been consuming him gradually scattered, and the sense that he could still control himself returned. Edmund could no longer deny that Blair was the one who determined whether he would collapse or endure.

As the sun tilted westward, the shadows of those standing on the hill lengthened. Around that time, Isabelle, who had been standing silently, slowly turned her gaze toward the two of them. Her sharpened, silent stare lingered on them for a long time.

***

The ducal estate’s dining hall was busy preparing to receive a guest for the first time in a while. The long table was set with ornate tableware, silver candlesticks, and pure white floral arrangements, and in the kitchen, a variety of dishes from appetizers to desserts were being prepared.

However, everyone knew that this dinner was less a gathering of harmony and more a battlefield. What would pass across the table would not be celebratory wine, but words sharpened like blades.

“It’s not too late, even now.”

Blair, who had already emptied her glass of water several times, turned her head. Edmund, seated in the seat of honor beside her, was watching her as she tried to calm her restless nerves.

“Not too late for what?”

“To prevent your father from crossing the threshold. There’s no reason this meeting has to happen today.”

“I’m fine. And issues like this only grow heavier the longer they’re delayed.”

Blair added stubbornly, “I’d rather settle it today.”

“I will respect your decision.”

“…But?”

“I just hope our child doesn’t inherit your stubbornness.”

At Edmund’s muttering tone, Blair let out a quiet laugh. The unfamiliar sensation of his words made her repeat them silently.

Our child. His and her child. Blair liked that expression very much. It wasn’t a cold, functional word like heir, but a warm expression that assumed a life the two of them would build together.

As time passed, Blair realized her own values weren’t particularly aristocratic. The marriage she envisioned was one where two people treated each other as equals and walked side by side from the same position.

But what noble couple in the world lived that way? Rather than equality, most wives were treated as decorations to support or embellish their husbands.

That was why the word child, as Edmund spoke it, contained a hope that even she found somewhat unrealistic.

Blair idly traced the rim of her glass with her fingers and asked quietly, “Would you prefer it to be a boy?”

According to the will, Edmund’s ducal title would be secured regardless of the child’s gender as long as he had an heir, but to continue the family legacy he’d long desired, she thought he would naturally prefer a son over a daughter.

But his answer was unexpected.

“I don’t see any reason it has to be a boy.”

“…Really?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t even look like you had to think about it.”

“Does that surprise you?”

“Well… you….”

Blair stopped herself mid-sentence. Words like bloodline and succession rose to her throat, but the serious gaze of the man watching her closely silenced her.

At that moment, the silence broke as the dining hall door opened.

The one who appeared through the slowly widening gap was Isabelle. She’d only removed the black veil from her head, but she still wore mourning attire. She stared at the two seated side by side in the seat of honor with an unreadable gaze, then lowered her eyes and approached the table.

“You’ve arrived.”

“Madam.”

Isabelle said nothing in response to the brief greetings of the duke and duchess. She simply sat upright and waited quietly for the next guest to arrive.

The atmosphere was unbearable. As Blair endured the tense silence, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed outside. Soon, a servant’s voice announced the arrival of Count Twyford. Blair instinctively swallowed dryly.

“Your Grace, Duke Libert.”

The moment the door opened, Count Twyford bowed deeply to Edmund with exaggerated formality. He wore mourning attire as well, as if he’d only recently received news of Rufus’s death.

Edmund gave a slight nod. “Welcome, Count.”

“Oh, I was utterly shocked to hear the news of Sir Rufus’s passing. I hope that by coming here in person, I may at least atone for my discourtesy in being unable to attend the funeral.”

The funeral had been held privately, and no place had even been prepared for Count Twyford, yet he spoke smoothly as he took his seat. Then he bowed his head in turn toward Isabelle, seated across from him.

“I offer you my deepest condolences as well, madam. I know my condolences may bring little comfort, but I am grateful to be able to see you and pay my respects in person.”

“Your visit alone is something to be grateful for. It is a sorrowful day, but all the more reason for family to share a meal together, wouldn’t you agree?”

After replying calmly, Isabelle lowered her eyes as if she’d finished speaking. A moment later, the count’s gaze turned toward Blair.

“You look very well.”

It was the last greeting he offered. Though his expression was carefully arranged to suit the gravity of the occasion, Blair could still sense the faint displeasure directed at her.

“It’s been a while, Father.”

When Blair answered cautiously, the count narrowed his eyes slightly and remained silent. His meaningful gaze seemed to fall from her face to the slight swell at her waist. Blair thought his eyes resembled those of a merchant calculating profit while inspecting a ledger he’d nearly forgotten.

“You must have had a reason for making the journey all the way here.”

Edmund spoke first, drawing the count’s attention to himself.

The count replied in a voice lowered even further, “Yes, Your Grace. I am aware that bringing up such a matter during a period of mourning may be considered improper, but it’s not something I can simply overlook.”

“Go on.”

Even as the count greedily raised the main point the moment the appetizer was served, Edmund permitted him to speak without objection.

“I hear my daughter has brought very joyful news to the Libert family.”

Edmund’s suspicion that the count had already spoken with Isabelle in advance proved correct. Blair took a sip of fruit juice, trying to steady herself.

“Judging by the healthy color of her face, it must certainly be true. The child she carries is the heir to the ducal family, but at the same time, is it not also the grandchild of the Twyford family?”

“And?”

Edmund blinked slowly and cut him off.

“What is it you’re trying to say?”

The tense air surrounding the dinner table froze instantly. After a heavy silence, Count Twyford spoke with open confidence.

“As the maternal grandfather of the child to be born, I wish to be guaranteed my rightful share.”