Deceived, Yet Drawn to You - Chapter 138

Even then, Edmund didn’t immediately leave. He reached out to brush the stray hair from Blair’s forehead and gently caressed her flushed cheek with his knuckles. Even in the moment he stepped away from the bed, his hand carefully pulled the blanket over her sleeping form. Yet the moment his gaze shifted toward the closed door, every trace of tenderness washed from his face.

“Your Grace.”

Unlike the composed tone expected of a seasoned butler, the voice sounded as if it were urging him repeatedly. There was no reason for him to welcome an interruption to the peaceful time he’d been thoroughly monopolizing. He’d already instructed that no one was to approach the bedroom while Blair slept unless it was urgent. That meant something had happened that even the butler’s loyalty couldn’t override.

Edmund opened the door and stepped out of the bedroom. He quietly pulled the handle behind him and stared at the butler, Albert.

“What is it?”

“My apologies. A guest has arrived at the mansion.”

In the dim corridor, under the low light, irritation flickered across Edmund’s face. There was only one person who would dare shatter the silence of the ducal residence in the middle of the night.

“I told you never to let her in again.”

“Well… she forced her way in, insisting that since the young master’s remains will be moved to the public cemetery tomorrow, she be allowed to offer one final prayer. She said there was no need to escort her to the drawing room, and her manner made it difficult for even the guards to drive her out….”

“Where did you let her in?”

“She is in the chapel.”

The chapel was the very heart of the grand mansion of Eldenvale. Even while residing in the mansion, Isabelle often spent long hours there. Of course, he knew she wasn’t devout. There was no way that woman believed in God. To Isabelle, the chapel was closer to a stage where she could perform the dignity and authority expected of a noble lady.

“Seal off the entire corridor so the Duchess doesn’t wake, and make sure no disturbance carries through.”

“Yes. I’ll increase the guards and station them near the bedroom.”

Edmund passed Albert and walked toward the end of the corridor where darkness pooled. There had to be a clear reason Isabelle returned wearing that disgusting mask of a woman who had lost everything. Whatever it was, he wouldn’t allow her to slash apart this peace.

***

Edmund stood before the massive doors of the chapel with Albert. He stopped the butler from opening them and grasped the handle himself.

“I’ll go in alone.”

“…Will you be all right?”

“Of course.”

He had no intention of being accompanied, not even by his loyal butler. It was always best to clear away the remnants of the past with his own hands.

“I’ll wait outside.”

Leaving Albert, who bowed his head, behind him, Edmund pushed the handle.

Creak.

In the heavy silence, the sound of the hinges grated sharply. Having chosen to enter alone, Edmund stepped inside and surveyed the dim interior.

Beneath the high ceiling, a cold chill lingered in the chapel, illuminated only by the candles burning on the altar. At the center of that faint light stood Isabelle alone, her back turned.

When Edmund stripped Isabelle of her authority and expelled her from the mansion, he anticipated it would stir subtle resistance among the servants, considering she’d long reigned there as the lady of the house.

Fearing that accusations of excessive punishment might turn their arrows toward Blair, he’d already spread through the butler the full account of Isabelle’s involvement in the kidnapping plot. The incident Blair endured that day while carrying the heir resulted in the deaths of two people, a tragedy grave enough that even the servants of the ducal residence could no longer look upon Isabelle with simple pity.

Perhaps because of that, even though the former Duchess of Libert had arrived, not a single attendant stood by her side. It was the treatment a sinner rightfully deserved.

The sound of firm footsteps echoed across the stone floor as he advanced straight ahead. Isabelle still didn’t move an inch.

“What brings you here so late at night?”

His cold voice rang through the empty space like an echo. Only then did Isabelle turn her head. As expected, there was no trace of sorrow on her face illuminated by the flickering candlelight.

“Tomorrow is the day Rufus’s grave will be moved.”

Isabelle murmured quietly. Her voice sounded weak, yet beneath it a blade-like edge flashed.

“My dead son is to be driven even from the cold earth, left to wander in a nameless cemetery, while you spend a warm night with a woman.”

“Have you forgotten why Rufus was denied even a handful of ashes from this family?”

Edmund shot back in a low voice, pressing down his displeasure. Even so, Isabelle didn’t waver. She merely extended a finger toward the altar and lightly brushed one of the trembling candles.

“Do you love her?”

The question struck abruptly, catching him off guard. Edmund knew at once whom Isabelle meant.

“I love her.”

He added, as if grinding the words out between his teeth, “To the point that if anyone tries to take her from me, I’d kill them.”

“Do you think you have the right?”

“I create my own right. Just as you failed to protect your only son and ended up like this, I would trample the world over and over for her.”

At his icy reply, Isabelle let out a faint laugh between her trembling lips. She toyed with the small flame as if she couldn’t even feel her fingers being scorched.

“How arrogant. Just like Count Twyford believing he could confine a maternal grandfather’s rights within the clauses of a contract.”

“The Count was foolish to think my child’s fate would be determined by mere lines in a contract.”

“How unfortunate. To be that foolish, and not even know how to properly use the cards he held….”

Instead of answering, Edmund’s brows drew together. Isabelle continued while gazing at the wavering light.

“Motherhood is remarkably useful. Touch that yearning thirst, and even the most cautious person’s judgment is bound to grow clouded.”

He knew what Count Twyford had used to seize Blair’s ankle after appearing at the hospital following her examination. It was a letter from her birth mother, whom she believed had long since fled. He had wondered why, at that point, the Count chose to unearth a secret he could have buried for life, but he dismissed it as a crude lure used by a cornered father to turn his daughter’s steps.

But hearing Isabelle speak of motherhood made him think differently. The tactic Count Twyford used, striking at the most fragile part of Blair, was never an idea that would have come from his own head.

Blair was still wavering over that letter even now. Her fragile voice, wondering about the whereabouts of a mother no one knew, still lingered in his ears. The promise he gave to find out what became of her birth mother was, in truth, Isabelle’s venomous fang, and the realization made his fingertips tremble.

“Didn’t you say I incited the Count to threaten your wife’s safety? Half right and half wrong. I merely wanted to use that child’s long-standing deprivation to break her soul.”

“…So that was your purpose from the beginning.”

“You think you protected your wife. But tell me, child, if Blair learns what became of her mother, will she ever live whole again?”

At last, Isabelle turned her back on the altar and stared straight at Edmund.

“You too are living your entire life atop the corpse of the mother who died in your place. Perhaps that woman will become the same.”

Edmund’s eyes burned red. The thought that Isabelle didn’t merely condone the kidnapping but wished to shake Blair’s entire life apart and condemn her to suffer forever disgusted him. All for the sake of watching him collapse.

“You look angry.”

“….”

“Will you strangle this mother’s neck?”

Seeing him waver, Isabelle tilted her chin and asked. In that instant, Edmund paused. A strange scent brushed the tip of his nose. It wasn’t merely the level of candle wax burning. It was the stench of oil.

At that moment, a series of urgent commotions erupted outside the door. Instinctively sensing danger, Edmund immediately turned on his heel. He seized the handle and pulled. The massive door shook violently.

But it didn’t open. It was as if it had been barred from the outside.