Rachel stared at Blair with a look of disdain. “Why should I listen to you? Everyone has the right to love freely, and I don’t need your permission.”
The stance was a stark departure from her attitude just moments ago, when she had been desperate for Blair’s approval.
Blair felt neither anger nor humiliation. Those emotions had long since withered away. Now, she felt only a hollow pity for her cousin, who was boldly spouting such foolishness.
“It seems your rights take precedence over your morals.”
“Don’t pretend to be so noble. Who in this hall would actually find fault with it? I’m sure everyone behind closed doors lives exactly as I do.”
“Just because it’s common doesn’t mean it’s something to be proud of. If you’re so boastful, why not declare it to their faces? Go tell them you intend to be the mistress of Duke Headrin.”
Blair gestured toward the room with her eyes. Seeing the crowd, Rachel faltered. Even if everyone lived in the shadows, an affair was not something to be worn as a badge of honor.
Blair looked at her steadily, her voice flat. “How you live your life is your business, but you should at least know where the line is drawn.”
Rachel gasped, stunned by the calm rebuke, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled for a rebuttal that wouldn’t come. Blair turned away, leaving her behind. Perhaps it was the wine working through her blood, but for a moment, she felt a strange, cold urge to laugh.
* * *
Headrin, having finished a conversation with a group of nobles, caught the eye of a Count who was preparing to depart. Beside him, his wife looked visibly pregnant.
The Count, realizing he had been spotted, offered an awkward explanation. “My wife is tired, and I thought it best to leave quietly rather than disturb the atmosphere…”
“It is a pity we cannot enjoy your company longer,” Headrin replied. “It is a kindness that you attended despite your discomfort. I hope you will join us again after the birth.”
Headrin’s tone was uncharacteristically gentle—a rare grace from a man who usually projected a chilling, heavy pressure. The wife blushed, smiling shyly.
“I certainly will. I hope there will be similar good news for you and the Duchess by then, Your Grace.”
Good news.
Headrin’s gaze dropped to the woman’s swollen belly. A flicker of icy intent clouded his eyes, though it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. The couple, oblivious, bowed respectfully.
“We shall see you at the hunting competition.”
Headrin watched the Count carefully wrap an arm around his wife’s waist, guarding her as if she were the most precious treasure in existence. He then turned his gaze away, naturally seeking out Blair. Clad in a navy gown that mirrored his own attire, she was a striking presence in the room.
Mine. My wife.
But it was a title destined to expire when the contract ended.
‘Good news, she says.’
Headrin sneered, his eyes lingering on Blair’s slender waist. She clung to her contraceptive pills like a lifeline, ensuring her belly would never swell—at least, not with his child.
Unless, of course, it were someone else’s.
The thought sent a sudden, freezing jolt through his veins. Just imagining it made his blood run cold. He pushed the unpleasant image aside and looked for her again, but she was nowhere to be found.
Instead, his eyes landed on Wesley Baldwin.
The bastard who had been pestering her at Katrina’s birthday banquet.
‘Why is he here?’
Blair had handled the invitations herself. Surely, she hadn’t invited him out of desire; it must have been a formal obligation. It would look poor to slight the Marquess Baldwin family while inviting the rest of the high nobility, and the house was more than just Wesley. Still, the Marquess himself had come to apologize after the scandal.
‘I assumed he would have enough sense of shame to stay away.’
It seemed the fool had crawled back in without a shred of awareness. The sight of him brought a wave of unease. Furthermore, if Blair were currently intoxicated and hiding from view, as was her habit—
Would she be cornered by some other bastard? Would she show that soft, drunken vulnerability to someone else?
The mere thought made his skin crawl with a murderous impulse. He wouldn’t be at peace until she was within his sight.
Headrin left the hall, systematically checking the balconies and side rooms. Since the event was ongoing, she wouldn’t have retired to her chambers. After searching, he finally found her on a secluded balcony, mercifully alone.
Tap, tap.
Headrin knocked on the glass door. Blair, who had been staring out at the garden, turned at the sound. He stepped onto the balcony.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was clearing my head.”
“Then what is that?” He gestured to the glass in her hand.
Blair realized her actions might seem contradictory, so she clarified, “It’s water.”
The liquid was colorless, lacking the telltale hue of white wine.
“How wise. It wouldn’t do to show ‘that side’ of yourself to the guests.”
Headrin emphasized the phrase with a deliberate edge. He took the glass from her and pressed his lips to the rim where hers had been. The water was sweet, touched by a faint scent of wine.
Frustrated that he was taunting her about her previous lack of restraint, Blair clamped her mouth shut. She wasn’t brazen enough to defend her past embarrassment, so she pivoted.
“Were you looking for me?”
“Yes.”
“Was someone else looking for me?” She pointedly excluded him from the reason for his search.
Headrin found the implication annoying, but given the setting, he chose to let it pass. “No. I had something to say to you.”
Blair looked up, her large, violet eyes reflecting his own image. He found a strange satisfaction in that sight. He paused, then spoke.
“You’ve worked hard today.”
At the unexpected praise, Blair blinked. She hadn’t expected to crave recognition, nor had she cared for the empty pleasantries of the other guests. She had been satisfied with her own performance—yet, hearing his simple, sincere words, her heart fluttered.
And then, a sharp, bitter realization hit her.
‘I was waiting to hear these words from him.’
It was praise he had never offered in the past. In her previous life, she had accidentally overheard the cruel gossip of her own retainers on this very balcony. She had fled, barely managing to finish the night, and when she finally saw Headrin, he had held her as usual, without a word.
He hadn’t known. He couldn’t have known.
Still, if he had said these words back then—if he had acknowledged her efforts—would everything have been different?
His praise, delivered so late, felt like ash in her mouth.
“Thank you.”
She replied softly and reached for the glass. Their fingers brushed.
“Are you not hiccuping today?”
“That’s because I’m not drunk.”
The glass, now empty, caught the moonlight, as did her small, damp, crimson lips. Headrin’s gaze darkened. A fierce, persistent thirst ignited within him.
He cupped her cheek and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. Startled, Blair gripped the glass tightly, but Headrin took it from her hand and pulled away, leaving her breathless.
He stared at her from the narrow space where their breaths mingled, his eyes burning with a raw, undeniable craving. He wanted her. The intensity of his gaze was frightening, yet she found she had no desire to pull away.
‘Is it because I’m too tired to fight him anymore?’
Blair set the glass down, unable to resolve the turmoil in her heart. Headrin took it as a sign, his hand finding her waist as their lips met once more. Their breath mingled, deep and chaotic, unaware of the shadow that watched them from the dark.