Reborn: The Duke's Obsession-Chapter 26 - Twenty Six

The sun was high and bright as Delia walked out of the heavy doors of the Ellington manor, leaving the oppressive atmosphere behind her. A genuine, unburdened smile graced her lips for the first time that day. In the courtyard, the magnificent carriage of the Duke of Elinburgh was waiting, a silent testament to the new reality of her life.

The driver, the older man from before whom she now knew to be Mr. Rye, tipped his hat to her as she approached. "Good morning, Milady," he greeted her, his voice warm and respectful.

Delia’s smile widened. It felt good to be addressed with such simple courtesy. "Good morning to you too, Mr. Rye," she returned warmly.

Mr. Rye made a move to get down from his perch to help her into the carriage, a standard gesture of service. But Delia, so used to doing everything for herself, stopped him with a raised hand.

"Don’t worry about it, Mr. Rye," she said kindly. "I can do it myself."

She clutched the small pouch tied at her waist, which held a few coins she intended to give the Duke for the meal he gave her yesterday, and stepped up into the carriage. "Thank you for coming all this way to pick me up," she chuckled as she settled onto the plush velvet seat, the door closing behind her with a soft click. The interior was luxurious and dim, a welcome escape from the harsh light outside. She looked up, expecting to be Eric, but her eyes landed on a figure sitting quietly in the opposite corner.

She let out a piercing shriek.

The unexpected sound caused the figure, a young man who had perhaps been dozing, to jolt awake and let out a startled shriek of his own, a sound several octaves higher than one might expect.

Instinct took over. Delia, thinking an intruder had hidden in the carriage, immediately went on the attack. She swung her small but sturdy pouch with all her might, shouting at the top of her lungs. "Mr. Rye! There’s a thief in here! Help!"

She hit the stranger squarely on the head.

"Ouch!" he yelped, rubbing the spot she had hit. He scrambled backwards, pressing himself into the corner of the carriage as if to escape her furious assault. She was about to hit him again, ready to bolt out of the carriage, when he finally regained his composure and held up his hands in surrender.

"Wait! Ouch! Milady, please stop!" he pleaded, his voice full of panicked alarm. "I’m sorry I scared you. I am Aiden. Aiden Caldwell. I am His Grace’s aide." He quickly straightened his slightly rumpled coat and gave a short, jerky bow from his seated position.

Delia froze, her pouch still raised mid-swing. An aide? She looked at him more closely. He was a well-dressed young man with a flustered but honest face. The realization of her mistake crashed down on her, and a hot blush crept up her cheeks. She slowly lowered her pouch.

She cleared her throat, trying to compose herself and regain some semblance of dignity. "Oh," she said, her voice small. "I see."

"His Grace is... busy," Aiden explained, still rubbing his head gingerly. "With some work-related issues. He sent me to pick you up and escort you to his private residence in the city."

Delia mouthed another silent "oh," feeling rather foolish. " Thank you."

Aiden, seemingly recovered from the assault, leaned forward and knocked twice on the top of the carriage, a sharp, clear signal to the driver outside. With a gentle lurch, the carriage began to move, carrying them away from the manor.

————————-

In the suffocating quiet of her bedroom, Anne had retreated from the world. She lay curled up in the center of her grand four-poster bed, the heavy blankets pulled up to her chin, creating a fortress against her own disappointment.

The door creaked open and Augusta entered, her expression a mixture of concern and impatience. "Aren’t you going to eat, my dear?" she asked softly, seeing the untouched breakfast tray on a nearby table. "You haven’t eaten anything all morning."

Anne didn’t respond. She just pulled the blanket higher.

Augusta sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, her weight causing the mattress to dip. "You are breaking my heart when you continue to be like this, Anne."

The words finally drew a response. Anne turned over, her face pale and stained with tears. "What about how I feel, Mama?" she asked, her voice thick with misery. "What about my heart? It’s the one that’s broken."

Augusta pulled her daughter into a soft, comforting embrace, stroking her hair. "I know, my darling, I know," she soothed. "But you know your father. He cannot disagree with this marriage now. The Duke has given him reasons, powerful ones, not to refuse."

Anne pulled away from the embrace, her greatest fear bubbling to the surface. "But what if it works, Mama?" she whispered, her eyes wide with dread. "What if his family—his mother, the Duchess, and his sister—what if they actually accept Delia? What if they come to like her?"

Augusta shook her head, a firm, confident movement. A cold, determined glint entered her eyes. "That," she stated with absolute certainty, "is not going to happen." She gently shifted a stray strand of brown hair away from Anne’s teary face.

"The Duchess is a woman who values breeding, reputation, and legitimate bloodlines above all else. Delia has none of those things. She is a scandalous, illegitimate child with a history of broken engagements. The Duke may be temporarily infatuated, but his mother will never approve of such a match for her heir." Augusta’s lips curved into a thin, knowing smile.

"Don’t you worry about it, okay?" she said, her voice now a low, conspiratorial whisper. "Let Delia have her small moment of victory. Let her ride in the Duke’s carriage and believe she has won. The higher she climbs, the harder she will fall." She patted Anne’s hand, her touch now feeling less like a comfort and more like a promise.

"I will take care of it."

Follow current novℯls on f(r)eewebnov𝒆l