Garden of May

Chapter 81

“It’s hot. I went for a walk.”

“Dressed like that?” The smile slowly faded from Blair’s lips. His eyes, dark and deep, seemed to see right through her. Unlike his usual self, always ready with a joke or a distraction, he seemed determined not to let her slip away this time. It felt like a declaration of his intent—he wouldn’t pretend not to know.

Vanessa stared at him, silent, as if he were a stranger. When had Blair ever interfered in her affairs like this? To directly question her private activities was a significant breach of etiquette, even between close friends. Then again, perhaps Blair had already decided to cross that line when he’d secretly entered her empty room and lingered for hours. Today, it seemed, something had clicked.

“I don’t recall ever seeing you in that dress.”

Blair took a step closer, his hand reaching out, hovering over her slender wrist. The dress, precariously positioned, threatened to slip further down her shoulders with the slightest movement. While it had seemed relatively modest amidst the lively revelry of the night streets, within the walls of Gloucester Castle, it was shockingly inappropriate.

The only saving grace was River Ross’s discretion regarding visible marks. Unless her br3asts were bared, there would be no trace of their lovemaking. Despite this, Vanessa felt utterly exposed. She instinctively covered her stomach with her free arm.

“I’ve had this dress for a while. I just don’t usually wear it…”

“Decided to follow the latest trends among the nouveau riche?”

“Vanessa.” He reached out and turned her face towards him. “You can’t look me in the eye when you lie.” His grip tightened. A crooked smile touched his emerald green eyes as he held her gaze. “Have you taken a lover?”

“…It’s not like that.”

“I saw you with a naval officer.”

“We just exchanged greetings a few times in the garden. He’s a childhood friend who used to visit Gloucester Castle. It was just… Blair, let go!”

Ignoring her protest, he forcefully pulled down the neckline of her dress, revealing the faint, mottled love bites that marked the skin reddened by the fabric. Blair stared down at the marks, his expression twisting into a grimace.

“You do this with friends?”

More than shame, Vanessa felt a surge of fear and anger. She didn’t know this man, this man with this face, capable of such actions. Her breath hitched in her throat.

“Let… go…”

“Does your uncle know you’re carrying on like this? What about this naval officer?”

“Don’t you dare touch him.” Vanessa, though breathless, glared at him with defiant, ice-blue eyes. They were nobles by birth, elegant beasts each with their own established territory.

That was the nature of Ingram’s high society. No matter what sordid affairs occurred behind closed doors, outward appearances were paramount. They strived to maintain a façade of impeccable elegance and deeply scorned those who used familiarity as an excuse to intrude upon the lives of others.

Their friendship, too, had been built upon this foundation: respecting each other’s boundaries, offering occasional advice, never overstepping. Rosaline and Blair’s reluctance to directly intervene in her situation stemmed from this same principle. They were young, but they respected Vanessa’s world. They were, after all, just friends.

She had never resented this; she considered it the mark of true nobility, the natural order of things. Which made Blair’s behavior today all the more appalling. Vanessa forcefully pushed his hand away.

“What right do you have to do this to me?”

“What?”

“You have Cecily.”

The color drained from Blair’s flushed cheeks. He stared at her, momentarily stunned, as if he’d been struck. The words had clearly hit a nerve.

Vanessa knew Blair as well as he knew her. They had been inseparable for years. Looking back, the Winchester twins were present at every significant moment of her life. From the age of four or five, when people teased them for looking like a little married couple holding hands, to the time Rosaline, jealous of her brother’s attention, pushed Vanessa off the sofa, to the day they stood together, weeping, at the Count and Countess’s funeral.