Reborn: The Duke's Obsession-Chapter 51 - Fifty One

Delia turned, the key still in her hand, her back pressed against the cold, hard wood of the door. "What?" The word came out as a strangled whisper, lost in the cool night air.

George stepped closer, his face a mask of grave concern, his voice low and urgent. "He set off a wild horse against his own brother, Delia. It was during a hunt years ago. They were both young, competing for their father’s praise. Eric... he wanted to win so badly. The horse went wild, it threw his brother, Philip, and the accident... it made his brother disabled. He caused Philip to limp for the rest of his life."

The story was horrifying, a dark and ugly tale that seemed impossible to associate with the man who had so gently cared for her. Delia was too shocked to speak, her mind reeling, trying to process the terrible accusation.

"The reason the Duke left the family business, the reason he built his own empire from scratch, wasn’t out of ambition," George continued, his voice full of feigned pity. "It was because he didn’t want to fight for the succession with his older brother. He felt guilty, Delia. He knew he didn’t deserve it after what he did. That’s why he lives such a private life now, hidden away in his cabin or this empty house. It’s to avoid bringing the matter back to light, to avoid facing what he did and to protect others from himself."

Delia just stood where she was, frozen, the world tilting on its axis. The man who had promised to protect her, to be her shield... was he capable of such a monstrous act?

George walked to where she stood, his expression softening into one of deep sympathy. "You must be in shock," he said softly. "I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this." He reached out and took her gloved hand in his, slowly putting his fingers in them. It was the first physical touch he had dared since their fallout, and her hand lay limp and cold at his touch.

"But who else is going to tell you the truth, Delia?" he murmured, his eyes searching hers. "Who else in this world cares about you as much as I do?" Before she could react, he enveloped her shocked, supple body in an embrace. He pulled her close, his breath warm on her neck, his voice a tickling, insidious whisper in her ear. "So come back to me, Delia. It’s not too late. Let’s try again."

The unwanted closeness, the feel of his arms around her, the hypocrisy of his words—it was the jolt she needed. Her shock solidified into a white-hot rage.

Getting her bearings, she pushed against his chest with all her might and delivered a slap so hard and loud it echoed in the silent courtyard.

"How dare you?" she seethed, pointing a trembling finger at him. "How dare you touch another man’s woman, an engaged woman to be precise? Stay away from me!"

The force of the slap made George stumble back, creating a welcome distance between them. A red handprint was already beginning to bloom on his cheek.

With fumbling, angry movements, Delia unlocked the heavy door, pushed him aside with a look of utter contempt, grabbed her trunk, and dragged it inside, slamming and locking the door behind her.

George stood outside for a moment, his cheek stinging, a look of pained confusion on his face. As he turned to leave, he saw a weaselly figure scurrying away from behind a large bush at the edge of the property beside the gate, a small notebook clutched in his hand. George let out a long sigh. The gossip monger had gotten his story.

As he got to the front, completely leaving the premises, he realized the carriage he hired was gone. " I must have spent a lot of time in there," he murmured. Just then, he heard a soft, slow clapping sound. Anne emerged from the shadows of her hiding place, a wide, triumphant smile on her face.

"Wow, George," she said, her voice dripping with mock admiration. "You are really quite good at putting on a show. That hug was very convincing. Very intimate." She continued to clap softly. "The gossip monger will be absolutely thrilled to spread the lovely news. I can see the headline now." She tilted her head, imagining it. "’Fiancée of the Duke of Elinburgh caught in an intimate embrace with her former lover in front of the Duke’s own residence.’ Oh, it’s going to be so very interesting."

She stopped and looked at George’s cheek, which was now a vibrant shade of red. A flicker of annoyance crossed her face. "Though you could have done without getting slapped." Anne shook her head mockingly and walked towards where her own carriage was now waiting. "Let’s see how you get out of this one, Delia," she murmured under her breath.

George, his earlier despair gone, now replaced with the eager energy of a loyal servant, rushed to open the carriage door for her. He followed her inside, his face beaming with pride at their shared success. As the carriage began to move away, he glanced at Anne. Her smile was so wide, so full of genuine, malicious happiness, it almost made him forget the sting on his cheek.

"Will it be enough?" he asked, his voice full of hope. "Will it be enough to break them?"

Anne’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of cold, hard calculation. "Didn’t you see the shock on Delia’s face when you told her the story?" she asked. "I am sure she can’t wait to confront him about it. She must be afraid. She might even think that if he tried to get his own brother killed, he might one day try to get her killed too, if she displeases him."

George was silent as he watched the smile slowly fade from Anne’s face, replaced by a look of deep, bitter resentment.

"They say they burn for each other, right?" Anne said, her voice now a low, venomous hiss. "So full of passion and fire." She looked out the window at the dark city. "Let’s just see how well those flames hold up when their trust for each other finally breaks."

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