Reborn: The Duke's Obsession-Chapter 21 - Twenty One

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The heavy scent of medicinal herbs filled Anne’s bedroom. She opened her eyes slowly, her head aching as if it was hit against the wall a million times. The first thing she saw was her mother’s anxious face as she spoke in low tones to the family doctor.

"Mama," Anne called out, her voice weak and fragile.

Augusta immediately dismissed the doctor and rushed to her daughter’s bedside. She sat down, her hand instantly going to Anne’s forehead, smoothing back her hair with gentle strokes. "My sweet girl. How are you feeling?" ƒгeewebnovёl_com

The doctor, seeing his services were no longer needed, quietly dropped off some calming medicines on a side table and saw himself out.

The memory of the previous night—of Delia and the Duke walking away together—came rushing back to Anne, and fresh tears began to well in her eyes. She cried softly in her mother’s comforting arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Shhh, my sunshine, it’s alright," Augusta cooed, holding her close. "The doctor said you fainted from shock, but you will be fine, okay? There is nothing to worry about. I will put everything back on track. I promise you."

"No, Mama. Everything is already ruined. Delia has ruined my marriage proposal." Anne spoke in between sobs. " She has ruined me. She took the Duke away from me." Her body trembling with pent up tears. " She stole him from me."

Augusta pulled away from Anne, her expression hardening as her comforting expression was replaced by one of cold rage. "Everything will be fine. I’ll be right back," she said, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. "I just need to have a word with that little flirt. She seems to have forgotten her place so quickly."

Delia heard footsteps approaching then the heavy click of the lock on her bedroom door. She got to her feet just as the door swung open, revealing her stepmother. Augusta stepped into the room, leaving the door open behind her, a clear sign that this was not a discussion but a declaration. Her eyes immediately snagged on the dark blue ribbon tying back Delia’s hair. A scornful scoff escaped her lips.

"So," Augusta began, her voice dripping with contempt as she slowly circled Delia like a predator sizing up its prey. "Because you spent a single night with the Duke, you think it meant something? You think you’ve won?" She let out a short, ugly laugh. "No, my dear. It meant nothing. You were just a plaything for him. A momentary diversion for him to use and then discard."

"Wh... What?" Delia stuttered, taken aback by the words coming out from the Baroness’s lips. Those words, so casually cruel, struck her like a slap to the face. She felt insulted, diminished. All the confidence she had felt in the Duke’s cabin began to wither under the heat of her stepmother’s cruel words.

Augusta saw the flicker of pain in her eyes and pressed her advantage. "And do you know what that makes you?" she asked, her voice soft and poisonous.

Delia stood there, silent, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. She would not give this woman the satisfaction of a response.

"A whore," Augusta said, spitting the word out as if it tasted foul. "You are no different than the women in the pleasure houses on the wharf. In fact, yours is worse, because at least they get paid for their services. You? You threw yourself at him for free. A cheap whore without dignity."

Tears, hot and sharp, welled up in Delia’s eyes. She fought them back with every ounce of her will, lifting her chin slightly in a small act of defiance. She would not cry. She will not show any ounce of weaknesses or pain. Not in front of her.

Seeing the unshed tears, Augusta smiled, a cruel, triumphant expression. She knew she had struck a nerve and continued with her harsh words. "Do you know what kind of women men hate even more than plump women?" she asked, letting the question hang in the tense air before she answered it herself. "Women who defile their own bodies. Women with no honor, no purity and you just threw yours for him to trample on."

She stepped closer, her voice taking on a tone of false pity. "George is still here, you know. He is still willing to take you back, even after all the stupid, scandalous things you have done. He has been waiting and is still waiting." She shook her head as if Delia were a hopeless case. "Instead of you being grateful to him for accepting you as you are, you are here, causing scenes,putting this entire family to shame, disrupting your sister’s marriage proposal and making yourself a laughing stock."

"I..." Delia started, her voice catching in her throat. She wanted to scream, to tell her about the contract, about the deal, but the words wouldn’t come. The years of emotional abuse had left their mark, and a part of her still felt like that small, scared child locked in this very room.

Augusta saw her falter and put on a fake, motherly smile, her eyes remaining as cold as ice. "Don’t worry," she said, patting Delia’s arm in a gesture that felt more like a threat than a comfort. "I will send a letter to the Pembrokes tomorrow morning. We will have to rush your wedding to George, of course. It is the only way to save you some small shred of dignity." Her smile tightened. "That’s the best I can do for you, as my daughter. A quick, quiet wedding to cover up your shame. You can—"

"Delia."

A man’s voice, calm and powerful, called out from the doorway. It was a voice that did not belong in this house, a voice that cut through Augusta’s venomous statement like a sharp, clean sword.

The sudden interruption made both women turn towards the open door in stunned surprise.

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