Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 83 - Eighty Three

The sun began to set, painting the sky in the same colors of orange, purple, and ash that had just consumed Senna’s residence.

Outside the massive, iron gates of the Thompson estate, a small, curious crowd had gathered. They were the "people" Senna had sent—gossip-mongers, paid whisperers, and a few genuinely curious passersby, all drawn by the "show."

In the center of the dusty road, kneeling on the hard, unforgiving ground, was Senna.

Her expensive, emerald-green gown was torn, blackened with soot, and stained. Her beautiful hair, usually so perfect, was a wild, tangled mess, her face streaked with black soot and the very real, very convincing tracks of her tears. She was shivering, a poor, broken, pitiful thing, her hands clasped in front of her as if in prayer. Esme knelt beside her, weeping loudly into a dirty handkerchief.

The onlookers gossiped, their voices loud and full of a delicious, dramatic pity.

"By the gods, is that her? The dancer?"

"It’s Lady Senna! The Duke’s mistress!"

"What happened to her? Look at the state of her... she’s covered in soot!"

"I heard the Golden Swan burned to the ground this afternoon. A terrible, terrible fire."

"And she comes here? Seems the Grand Duke is about to have another very public, very romantic scandal. How exciting!"

The great iron gates of the estate creaked open. A guard, having clearly been alerted to the commotion, rushed out. He saw the kneeling, weeping woman, recognized her instantly, and his eyes went wide. He turned and ran back inside.

A moment later, the gates opened fully. Derek strode out, his face a mask of thunder. He had been interrupted from his work, and he was clearly, visibly annoyed.

And then he saw her.

His anger evaporated. He stopped, his gaze fixed on the small, broken, shivering figure. "Senna?" he breathed.

He strode forward, his expression no longer angry, but filled with a sudden, sharp, and undeniable worry. "Get up," he said, his voice low and urgent. He reached down, his hands closing around her soot-covered arms, and pulled her to her feet.

She was so light, so frail. She collapsed against his chest, her "sobs" muffled against his fine coat.

"What happened?" he demanded, his gaze falling on the weeping Esme. "What in the hell is going on?"

Esme, a perfect, terrified, and loyal servant, launched into her rehearsed speech. "Your Grace!" she wailed, "It was terrible! Horrible! My lady... she... she helped you yesterday, Your Grace! She pushed that drunken Lord Ashford away from you both! He... he held a grudge!"

Derek’s face darkened. He remembered the chaos, the guards, the drunken lord.

"He came back, Your Grace!" Esme cried. "This afternoon! He came with... with ruffians! He said he would teach my lady a lesson! They... they set fire to our residence! We... we barely escaped with our lives! We have lost everything! Everything!"

Derek looked from Esme’s terrified face to the woman in his arms. He looked at her soot-stained skin, her torn dress, the way she was trembling. Her home had been destroyed. And it was because of him. Because she had helped him.

"Come," he said, his voice a low, protective growl. He put his arm around her, supporting her, and began to lead her inside the gates. "You are safe now. Come inside first."

They took no more than two steps before a new voice, clear, cold, and dripping with an authority that stopped them both in their tracks, rang out.

"Your Grace."

Derek and Senna froze. Marissa, with Beatrice leaning on her arm, stood in the main entrance, blocking their path.

Marissa’s face was a polite, unreadable mask, but her eyes were like chips of ice. Beatrice, however, looked openly, acidly, displeased.

"Your house burned down," Marissa stated, her voice flat. "A true tragedy." She looked at the shivering, soot-covered Senna. "There are plenty of very fine inns available in the city, Lady Senna. Why, in all your distress, would you come here?"

Senna, her plan on the very brink of success, could not let this woman ruin it. She slowly, weakly, pulled herself away from Derek’s hold, though she kept a hand on his arm for "support." She turned her large, tear-filled, beautiful, and utterly innocent eyes on him.

"I... I wasn’t thinking, Your Grace," she whispered, her voice a fragile, heartbreaking sound. "I didn’t know where else to go. I... I was just so worried. I had to come... I had to see if His Grace was alright. I was so afraid that Lord Ashford, in his anger, might have come here, too..." She looked at Derek, her eyes overflowing. "I am so relieved you are not harmed."

The onlookers, who had been watching in rapt, silent fascination, erupted in a new wave of loud, sympathetic whispers.

"Oh, the poor woman! After suffering such a hardship, her first thought is still for him!"

"How pitiful! And the new Duchess is so cold to her!"

"She truly loves him. What a noble heart."

Beatrice rolled her eyes, her lips pursed in open disgust.

Marissa, however, smiled. It was a bright, warm, and deeply understanding smile. "You are right, Lady Senna," she said, her voice full of a sudden, surprising warmth. "You have been wronged today. You have suffered a great loss, and you are a guest of this family. We cannot turn you away."

Senna’s heart leaped. Yes! It worked! She’s letting me in!

"Which is why," Marissa continued, her smile never faltering, "I have a perfect, immediate solution." She turned to a nearby guard. "Have them prepare my carriage. And send word to the groundskeeper at the small willow house, in the suburbs. Tell him to prepare it for a long-term guest."

She turned back to Senna, her smile full of perfect, wifely generosity. "It is a lovely, small house, Lady Senna. Very private, very secure. It belongs to the Thompson family, so you will be safe there. You can stay there, temporarily, as our guest, until your own home is rebuilt." 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

The words hit Senna. The suburbs. An exile. A small, "private" house, far away from the estate, far away from him. She was being politely, brilliantly, and publicly banished.

Her mind went blank with panic. She looked, desperately, at Esme, her eyes a silent scream: Say something! Fix this!