Chapter 41
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 41
"It was warm. I... I just went for a walk, that's all."
"Dressed like that?"
The smile slowly faded from Blair's lips. His deep-set eyes, which seemed to have already figured everything out, felt utterly unfamiliar. Unlike his usual self—always hiding his true feelings, ready to deflect with a joke—this was a clear declaration. He would not back down, and he would not pretend to be ignorant this time.
Vanessa held her tongue, staring at him as if he were a stranger. When had Blair ever pried into her life like this? To so directly question someone's private affairs was highly improper, even for the closest of friends.
Then again...
From the moment he snuck into her room and waited for hours, Blair must have already resolved to cross that line.
And today, he had finally sensed something.
"I don't recall ever seeing you in a dress like this."
Taking a step closer, Blair seized her slender wrist, pulling it into the air. The dress was so daringly cut that the slightest movement threatened to make it slip past her collarbones.
Out on the festive city streets, the outfit might have passed as relatively modest. But here, inside Gloucester Castle, it was scandalously vulgar.
"..."
Fortunately, River Ross was a careful man, meticulous about not leaving marks where they might be seen. Unless she was stripped to her chest, no trace of their lovemaking would be visible. Even so, she felt completely naked.
Vanessa wrapped her free arm around her stomach.
"I've had this dress for a long time. I just don't usually wear it..."
"Have you decided to adopt the latest fashion of the nouveau riche?"
"..."
"Vanessa."
He reached out, cupping her face and forcing her to look at him.
"You can never look me in the eye when you lie."
His grip was unyielding. His deep green eyes bored into hers, his lips twisting into a crooked smile.
"Found yourself a lover, have you?"
"...It's not like that."
"I heard you've been seeing a certain navy officer."
"I was just happy to see him, so we exchanged greetings in the garden a few times. That's all. He's an old friend who used to stay at Gloucester Castle when we were children, so... Blair, let go of me!"
He overpowered her struggles and forcefully yanked down the neckline of her dress. There, on skin reddened from the fabric's friction, were mottled bite marks, clear as day.
Blair stared down at the marks, his expression devastated, his lips twisting into a vicious snarl.
"And do friends do this to each other?"
Anger and fear eclipsed her shame. She didn't know this man—not this face, not this behavior. Her breath hitched, trembling uncontrollably.
"Let... let go of me..."
"Does your uncle know you're fooling around like this? Does he know about this navy officer?"
"Don't you dare touch him."
Panting, Vanessa glared at him, her blue eyes blazing. They were aristocrats by birth—elegant beasts, each with their own distinct territory.
Such was the high society of Ingram. No matter what sordid deeds they committed behind closed doors, they strove to maintain a beautiful, solid facade for the world to see. They despised those who used friendship as an excuse to meddle.
Their friendship had been built on that very foundation: maintain their respective positions, offer occasional advice, and never, ever cross the line. The fact that Rosalyn and Blair had never actively intervened in her situation was an extension of this custom. They were young, yes, but they respected her world. They were, after all, friends.
She had never been hurt by this; she had always considered it a matter of course, the mark of true nobility. And that was why his actions today felt so utterly cowardly. Vanessa violently shook off his hand.
"What right do you have to do this to me?"
"What?"
"You have Sissy."
At her words, the color drained from Blair's flushed cheeks. His eyes widened, his face slackening as if he'd been struck. The remark had clearly hit a nerve.
Vanessa knew Blair just as well as he knew her. For the longest time, they had been practically inseparable. Looking back, the Winchester twins had been there for every major milestone of her life.
When they were four or five, people would tease them, calling them a little married couple as they toddled around holding hands. There was the time Rosalyn, jealous of having her brother stolen away, pushed Vanessa off the sofa. And there was the day the three of them wept together, huddled face to face, at the Count and Countess's funeral.
Blair slowly clenched the hand she had flung away. A hollow laugh escaped his lips. Then, his crumbling expression hardened into a mask.
"Naive Vanessa."
A low whisper followed, his somber, dark green eyes glinting dangerously in the shadows.
"You're so defenseless, you don't even realize the filthy way men look at you."
How could she not know? She saw the dazed expressions when they looked at her face, the way they blushed while pretending not to stare at her breasts. Their eyes stripped her bare in their imaginations, only to then judge her as if she were a loose woman.
A woman with breasts like that couldn't possibly be a virgin. Raised by a man, she must have lost her purity long ago. Therefore, she is not chaste enough to be the mistress of a household.
That was why she felt a fresh wave of anxiety. Because Blair—the friend who had known her inside and out since childhood—had now become just another man, looking down at her with those very same eyes.
"Wait, Blair..."
Vanessa took a hesitant step back as Blair closed the distance with long strides. For every step she retreated, he advanced. After this repeated a few times, her back hit the cold wall.
The moment she realized there was nowhere left to run and tried to bolt, Blair threw out his arms, trapping her between the wall and his body.
His back was to the light, casting his face in shadow and making his expression impossible to read. A face she once thought she knew so well.
Blair's breath carried the faint scent of strong whiskey. His presence was unmistakably that of a man. He wasn't a soldier like River Ross, and though he was still unrefined, having only recently reached adulthood, he was far larger and stronger than she was.
She already knew what would follow from here.
She clenched her fists and raised them to strike, but he caught her wrists, pinning them painfully against the wall. She barely managed to swallow a groan. The fool didn't even realize his own strength... He seemed to think he could still grab her carelessly, just like when they were children. Her skin already stung and throbbed, surely bruised.
"Don't do this."
"How could you possibly know what I'm about to do?"
"..."
"Did you go all the way with that bastard?"
Her eyes, having adjusted to the dim light, could finally make out his expression. It was one of utter devastation. This was not the friend she knew; every trace of his usual playfulness had vanished.
In Blair's unfamiliar, sunken green eyes, the reflection of a frightened woman stared back at her. No matter how she struggled, he didn't budge an inch. Vanessa looked up at him, her eyes filled with terror.
"Blair, please... You can't do this..."
"Why?"
"We're fri—friends, and..."
With a harsh laugh, he leaned down, his breath hot against her face. Unable to bear it, Vanessa squeezed her eyes shut. Her lips, pressed tight to deny him entry, turned white with the pressure.
Blair laughed at her desperate, frantic, yet utterly weak resistance. She was only acting this way because she believed he wouldn't actually go through with it. How naive, to think that simply pressing her lips together counted as rebellion.
Staring down at her delicately trembling eyelashes, he spoke as if suddenly remembering something.
"Mother thought you had already lost your virginity to your uncle."
"...Did the Marchioness really say such a thing?"
"The old rumors about your uncle were just that bad. Especially after that incident... So, Mother was desperate, in her own way. Rosalyn flew into a rage and was put under house arrest for the entire holiday."
Vanessa blinked rapidly. During her second summer break at St. Louis, there had been a period when every letter she sent to Rosalyn was returned. At first, she thought she'd written the wrong address; later, she suspected the postman was playing a prank.
Until the Marchioness Winchester threw a thick bundle of those letters onto her lap.