Reborn: The Duke's Obsession-Chapter 49 - Forty Nine

Back in her small, familiar room at the Ellington manor, she felt a renewed sense of purpose. She pulled out a large, battered trunk from under her bed. Well, not that she had many things that were truly hers to pack. A few plain simple dresses, a handful of well-worn books, and the blue ribbon from the Duke. That was the sum of her life in this house.

As she folded a plain cotton dress, her mind couldn’t help but reminisce, drifting back to the conversation she’d had that very morning. After the intense meeting with the family and she slept in his residence, Eric had insisted on taking her home himself. She remembered the moment clearly, standing by his carriage as Mr. Rye waited patiently.

~ FLASHBACK ~

Eric had helped her into the carriage, his hand warm and steady on her arm. He closed the door softly but didn’t move away. Instead, he rested his arms on the open window of the carriage door, then rested his head on his arms, simply watching her with a soft, unguarded expression. He was taking in her beauty, and the intensity of his gaze made Delia’s cheeks grow warm.

She looked at him, at the way the morning light caught in his dark, messy hair. He asked with a gentle smile, "What will you be doing today?"

Delia returned his question with one of her own. "What about you? What will you be doing today?"

Eric sighed, a sound of weary responsibility. "I’ll be working," he answered. "I might have to work all through the night, actually. I have an international procurement order to finalize, and I can’t leave it all for Aiden to handle. The burden will be too much." He paused. "Or, if I finish early, I might go to the cabin by dawn to get some rest."

"Why don’t you go home to your family’s mansion?" Delia asked, curious.

A familiar, boyish smile returned to his face. "You know I love my cabin and my privacy." He stared into her blue eyes, his own gaze turning serious again. "Do you want to come with me, Delia?"

The invitation was tempting but she shook her head. "I can’t. I’ll be busy packing."

Eric’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Are you moving out of the Ellington manor today?"

Delia nodded her head.

"Should I send Mr. Rye to come and pick you up this evening, then?" he offered. "To bring you back to my residence?"

"No, thank you," Delia replied, a stubborn streak of independence rising in her. "I will hire a carriage myself when I am ready."

Eric’s expression softened. He lifted his head from his arms and reached through the window, his fingers gently caressing her cheek. "Don’t do it all alone, Delia."

She fell silent, her breath catching at his tender touch.

"I meant what I said," he continued, his voice a low, sincere murmur. "I will always be by your side. You don’t have to do everything by yourself anymore."

The raw sincerity in his voice was overwhelming. It felt too real, too much like the love she had sworn off forever. In a moment of playful self-defense, she lightly swatted his hand away from her cheek.

"Don’t treat me like a child," she said, though there was no real heat in her words. "If a situation arises that I can’t handle, I will be sure to let you know."

Eric pulled his hand back and crossed his arms on the carriage window, leaning on it again, a look of immense pride on his face. "I’m proud of you, Delia."

A short chuckle escaped her lips. "You said you were going to be busy. It sounds more like you’re just bored and looking for ways to pester me."

"No," he replied, a teasing glint in his eye. "I have to be busy. I have to work hard so that Delia can get anything she wants."

Delia smiled, a real, genuine smile that made his own expression soften further. "Then you had better work harder, Your Grace."

She leaned forward. "Mr. Rye, we can go now!" she called out to the driver. She turned back to Eric and waved. "Bye."

He watched her with a fond smile as the carriage started to move, staying there until it turned the corner and was out of sight.

~ FLASHBACK ENDS ~

Delia finished packing the last of her things and closed the heavy lid of the trunk. As she did, she saw a thick, cream-colored envelope lying on her writing table. She had been so busy since she got back from her meeting Owen that she hadn’t even noticed it. A courier must have delivered it while Augusta and Anne were out, otherwise she knew she would have never received it.

She picked it up. It smelled faintly of lavender. A small, involuntary smile touched her lips.

"What an attentive man," she thought to herself, a little bubble of warmth spreading in her chest. "How did he figure out in under two weeks that I love the scent of lavender? I spent half of my life with George, and he never once noticed. But he knew from our first meeting that Anne’s favorite smell is roses."

She immediately shook her head, trying to dispel the thought. "It doesn’t mean anything," she told herself firmly. "This is just part of the act. Eric is a meticulous man. He gathered information on me, just as I did on him. This is all for the contract."

The self-deception was a familiar defense mechanism, a way to protect her heart from a hope she was terrified to feel.

She carefully broke the wax seal and opened the letter. The handwriting was strong and bold, just like him.

I hope you ate something this morning? I couldn’t stop thinking about it after you left, so I had to write this letter.

Are you alright? Remember what I said. You don’t have to do everything all alone.

For my Duchess,

Your Duke.

She smiled as she read the words. Someone was worried about her. Someone cared enough to check if she had eaten. It might be a performance, a part of their deal that would only last for a year, but for now, she will enjoy the feeling while it lasts. She folded the letter carefully and tucked it safely inside her dress.

She dragged the heavy trunk out of her room, down the stairs, and out the front door, leaving it at the bottom of the steps. She then walked to the end of the long driveway to wait by the main gate for the carriage she had hired.

In a few minutes, a carriage approached and came to a stop in front of her. It was a simple, unmarked vehicle, just as she had requested.

"Goodness gracious, you’re late, mister," she said to the driver, her tone light and teasing as she proceeded to open the passenger door herself.

But the door swung open by the passenger inside, her smile froze on her face. Sitting inside, looking at her with a somber, determined expression, was George.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freewe(b)nov𝒆l