Reborn: The Duke's Obsession-Chapter 68 - Sixty Eight

The quiet old post inn on the east road was just as Delia remembered it from the day before, only now she walked into it with a sense of dread rather than confusion. She saw him immediately, sitting at a secluded table in the corner, a glass of wine untouched before him. Duke Philip was the mirror image of his brother—the same dark hair, the same strong jawline—but his eyes were colder, and a shadow of bitterness seemed to cling to him.

She approached the table, and he stood as she neared, a polite but cool gesture.

"So you didn’t want to meet with me?" Philip said, his voice smooth but with an undercurrent of accusation.

Delia met his gaze directly, refusing to be intimidated. "No," she replied straightforwardly.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face. "I had to leave yesterday because something urgent came up," he explained, offering a belated excuse. "But if you are upset about being stood up..."

"No, Your Grace, it is not like that," Delia responded, her tone calm and respectful. "I came here today to tell you in person that if what you were going to tell me is about Eric, I would much rather hear it from him directly." Her logic was simple and unassailable. It was a statement of loyalty. "That is why I came here today. To give you that courtesy."

She stood up and gave a slight curtsy, preparing to leave. She had said what she needed to say. But his next words stopped her cold.

"He sent me a letter, you know," Philip said, a cruel, knowing smile touching his lips. "Almost immediately after his little performance at the council meeting. He sent one to warn me." He how tensed she was and savored it. "He told me not to tell you about our story."

Delia turned back slowly.

"Yes," he continued, enjoying her reaction. "The story of Eric and me. The tales of the stepbrothers’ past. Including, of course, the little incident that disrupted Eric’s sound mind."

The threat was clear. He was holding a secret over her head, daring her to walk away from it. But Delia would not play his game. She simply curtsied again, respectfully, turned her back on him and his poisonous words, and left the inn.

She got back into the waiting carriage, her heart pounding with a mixture of anger and annoyance.

"Are we going home now, my lady?" Mr. Rye asked as he came to her window.

Delia unfolded the letter she had received from the Dowager Duchess that morning. The elegant script invited her to tea at a private garden estate. She gave the letter to Mr. Rye so that he could see the address. "No, Mr. Rye," she said, her voice firm. "I still have one more place to go."

~ ••••• ~

The Dowager Duchess Elena’s private pavilion was a masterpiece of elegance and nature. It was an open-air structure made of white marble, surrounded by a lush, vibrant garden filled with fragrant flowers and the sound of trickling fountains. Several serious-looking guards stood at a discreet distance, ensuring absolute privacy and protection.

Elena was already there, sitting at a small table laden with tea and scones. "Does my grandson know you are here?" she asked as Delia approached.

Delia, who had curtsied deeply, sat across from her. "No, Your Grace. I didn’t think I needed to let him know."

Elena looked at the way Delia softly ate a scone she had been offered. "Are you hungry, child? Should I get you more?"

Delia waved her hand politely. "No, thank you, Your Grace. I don’t even eat this much normally. But I promised Eric I will not skip breakfast or brunch, so I am trying."

A flicker of approval passed through Elena’s eyes. "I called you here to ask you a question, Delia," she said, her tone shifting to one of business.

"Please, go ahead, Your Grace," Delia replied, placing her teacup down and giving the Duchess her full attention.

"Your grandfather, Baron Edgar, paid me a visit," Elena started. "He has asked me to help with expanding the Ellington textile establishment internationally. He found out that the Port Authority Official and I go way back. He wants me to use my personal connection to grant him a free pass at the port, without paying the proper taxes and without following all the rules and regulations." She took a slow sip of her tea, her sharp eyes watching Delia over the rim of the cup. "So, tell me, Delia. What should I do?"

Delia was confused. Why was her opinion needed on a matter between her grandfather and the Duchess? "Your Grace?"

"Your marriage is at stake," Elena said bluntly. "That is why your opinion on this family matter is the only one that counts."

Delia’s mind raced. Father wouldn’t do this, she thought, her mind going to the Baron Henry. Wait, she said my grandfather, Edgar. Still, it felt wrong. He was proud, but she didn’t think he was crooked. This must be the Baroness Augusta’s doing. She must be using my grandfather to make this request. One wrong answer now, and her contract, her revenge, everything would be destroyed. She thought long and hard before she spoke.

"Your Grace," she began carefully. "I don’t know if I am in the right position to say this, but I hope that you will ask the Port Authority Official to look out for the Ellington family business."

Elena’s face remained impassive, but Delia saw a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. "Look out for them?" she asked, her voice cool.

"Yes," Delia confirmed.

Elena relaxed back in her seat. "Oh my," she sighed dramatically. "I really do need to question my grandson’s taste in women."

Delia smiled, knowing she had not yet finished her thought. "What I meant, Your Grace," she continued, her voice gaining confidence, "is that I hope you will ask the official to look into the Ellington accounts very thoroughly. To check every ledger, every shipment. If there has been any issue, or if he feels there might be any hint of corruption, he should expose it immediately, so that it will not have a chance to tarnish the good name that you have worked so hard to build over the years."

Elena’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean," Delia said, leaning forward, her eyes shining with sincerity and a wisdom that impressed the older woman, "that when we women were being subjected to simple household duties, you were doing rough work alongside men. You disguised yourself as a young lad to travel and learn the origins of the textile trade. You started a simple mend-and-wear store with only your lady-in-waiting to help you. And from that, you have built the great Carson Textile Establishment. You are a legend, Your Grace. How could I possibly ask a person like you to tarnish the name you worked so hard to create, just for my family’s gain?"

"I thought you loved your father, and your grandfather, more than anything," Elena asked, her voice now laced with suspicion. This was a test. "Saying this will put him in prison if he is found guilty of corruption. Do you know that?"

Delia smiled, a sad but firm expression on her face. "Yes, I know that. And I am sure my father and grandfather knows that too. I still love them, but I cannot stand by and watch if my grandfather or anyone else in my family commits such acts. Justice is more important than family ties."

Elena stared at her for a long, silent moment. The girl had a spine of steel and a moral compass that was unshakable. She had passed the test with flying colors. The Dowager Duchess finally broke into a wide, genuine smile.

"Your father is innocent, Delia," she said, her voice warm with approval. "As is your grandfather. I just cooked up the entire story to see what kind of person you truly are."

Delia smiled back, a wave of relief washing over her.

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