Garden of May

Chapter 82

Blair slowly curled his fingers into a fist, a hollow laugh escaping his lips. The expression on his face, as if he were shattering into pieces, hardened.

“Innocent Vanessa,” he murmured, his dark green eyes gleaming dangerously in the dim light. “You have no idea how those men look at you, how vulnerable you are.”

How could she not know? They all wore the same dazed expression when they looked at her face, then blushed and looked away when their eyes fell to her chest. They undressed her with their eyes and, in their minds, painted her as a wanton woman.

They whispered that a woman with br3asts like hers couldn’t possibly be a v1rgin, that she must have been raised by the hands of men and lost her innocence long ago, that she could never be the virtuous wife a respectable family sought.

That was why she was so anxious. Blair, her childhood friend, who understood her so completely, was now a man, looking at her with the same predatory gaze as the others.

“Wait, Blair…” Vanessa stumbled backward as Blair advanced, closing the distance between them with each retreating step. Finally, her back hit the wall.

Just as she realized she had nowhere left to go, Blair stretched out his arms, slowly trapping her between the wall and his body. With the light behind him, his expression was obscured, impossible to read. A face she once thought she knew so well.

The faint scent of strong whiskey clung to his breath. He felt undeniably male. Not a soldier like River Ross, and still a bit unrefined due to his youth, but much larger and stronger than she was. Vanessa knew what would come next.

She balled her fists, intending to strike him with all her might, but he caught her wrists and pinned them painfully against the wall. She bit back a moan. The idiot didn’t realize how strong he’d become… He seemed to think he could still manhandle her as he had when they were children. Her skin already stung and throbbed as if bruised.

“Don’t do this.”

“How do you know what I’m about to do?”

“Did you go all the way with him?”

Her eyes, now accustomed to the darkness, finally discerned his expression. It was desolate. All traces of his usual playfulness had vanished, leaving behind a stranger in place of the friend she knew.

Reflected in the depths of Blair’s troubled emerald eyes was a frightened woman. She kicked and struggled, but he didn’t budge. Vanessa stared at him, her eyes wide with fear.

“Blair, please… you can’t do this…”

“Why?”

“We’re… friends…”

He laughed harshly and lowered his head. His breath was warm against her skin. Unable to bear it any longer, Vanessa squeezed her eyes shut. Her lips, pressed tightly together in a desperate attempt to deny him entry, were pale with fear.

Her desperate, futile resistance, so fragile and vulnerable, made Blair laugh. She was acting this way because she believed, deep down, that he wouldn’t go through with it. So naive, thinking that tightly pressing her lips together constituted a real defense.

He gazed silently at her trembling eyelashes, then spoke, as if suddenly remembering something.

“Mother believes you’ve already lost your v1rginity to your uncle.”

“…Did the Marchioness truly say such a thing?”

“The old rumors about your uncle were quite horrific, you know. That incident alone… Mother was desperate. Rosaline was furious and spent the entire holiday confined to her room.”

Vanessa blinked rapidly. She remembered the second summer holiday at Saint Louis, when the letters she sent to Rosaline were returned, one after another. At first, she thought she had written the address incorrectly. Later, she suspected the postman was playing a cruel joke.

Until the Marchioness of Winchester dumped a bundle of letters onto her lap.