Reborn: The Duke's Obsession-Chapter 23 - Twenty Three

The Baron’s quiet consent fell into the room like a stone, sending ripples of shock and outrage through the assembled family.

"Papa!"

"Henry!"

The words were spoken at the exact same time, a look of disbelief from Anne and Augusta. Anne, her face blotchy and stained with tears, shot a look of pure venom at Delia.

"This doesn’t make any sense," she accused, her voice rising with anger.

"When did you two even know each other? How can you possibly be so smitten with one another after a single night?" She pointed a trembling finger at Delia, her mind desperately searching for an explanation that made sense, one that painted Delia as the villain. "Were you cheating on George all this while? Is that it? You broke up your engagement with him as soon as you knew the Duke was coming to the ball!" freēwēbηovel.c૦m

The barrage of false accusations, the familiar sting of being blamed for things she hadn’t done, finally broke through Delia’s shocked stupor. A fire she didn’t know she possessed ignited in her chest. She met her stepsister’s furious gaze, her own eyes now cold and hard.

"I will not take any more vile nonsense from your lips," Delia spat, her voice low but firm, each word sharp and clear. "So I suggest you bridle your tongue."

Before the fight could escalate, Eric gently took Delia’s hand in his. His thumb began to rub soothing circles on the back of her hand, a small, grounding gesture that sent a jolt of warmth through her. He didn’t look at Delia, however. His gaze was fixed on Anne, a lazy, challenging smirk now playing on his lips.

"If you put it that way, Lady Anne," he said, his voice smooth as silk, deliberately pouring fuel on the fire, "perhaps you should know that last night was, indeed, the first time she shared my bed."

The scandalous declaration silenced Anne instantly. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. She looked as if she had been slapped.

Augusta, seeing that direct confrontation was failing, tried a different tactic. She plastered a look of motherly concern on her face and turned to Eric. "Your Grace," she began, her voice dripping with false sincerity. "Isn’t this all a bit... rushed?" She glanced at Delia, as if worried for her well-being. "She just broke off her engagement. She is still a young girl, full of emotional baggage. Surely she needs time to heal."

Eric’s smirk disappeared, replaced by a look of profound devotion that he directed entirely at Delia. He lifted her hand to his lips and planted a soft, lingering kiss on her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers. The gesture was so intimate, so full of possessive tenderness, it made Delia’s breath catch in her throat.

"Well, Baroness," Eric said, finally turning his gaze back to Augusta, though he did not release Delia’s hand. "That will be my job as her husband, isn’t it? To love her so completely that no other man besides me ever resides in her heart again." He gave Delia’s hand a gentle squeeze. "You don’t have to worry about her. I will be her support from now on."

He looked back at Delia, who was still utterly stunned by the romantic gestures, by the feeling of his lips on her skin. She felt a blush creep up her neck, a mixture of embarrassment and a strange, unfamiliar feeling in her chest.

The public display of affection was too much for Anne to bear. It was a scene ripped from the romantic novels she so adored, but she was only a spectator. With a choked sob of jealousy and annoyance, she stood up abruptly and fled the room.

Eric stood up, gently pulling Delia to her feet with him. "I’ll take your approval as final, then," he said to the Baron. "I will inform my mother so that we can begin to finalize the wedding date."

Baron Henry, looking weary but resolute, nodded his approval. "Of course, Your Grace."

"Then we must be going," Eric said.

"So soon?" the Baron asked, a hint of sadness in his voice at losing the daughter he barely saw.

"Yes," Eric replied, his expression softening slightly. "We need to talk about our wedding plans."

"Okay," Henry said, accepting it.

Eric took Delia’s hand again, this time intertwining his fingers with hers, a solid, unbreakable link. He led her towards the door, but paused beside Augusta, who stood rigid with silent anger.

He smiled, a cold, polite expression that did not reach his eyes. "Thank you so much, Baroness," he said, his voice loud enough for the Baron to hear. "Thank you for all the love and affection you have shown to my fiancée over the years. But I believe I will take it from here on."

Then, he leaned in closer, his mouth just inches from Augusta’s ear. His voice dropped to a low, menacing whisper that was for her and her alone.

"Those red marks I saw on her cheeks when I arrived made me very angry," he murmured, his tone now completely devoid of its earlier charm. "I don’t ever want to see something like that again. Not a bruise, not a scratch, not even a single tear in her eye that you have caused." He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye, his own gaze as hard and cold as an iceberg at sea. "I believe I have made myself clear?"

Augusta didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. She just stared at him, her face pale, the full weight of his threat settling upon her like a shroud.

Satisfied, Eric straightened up, his charming smile returning as he turned back to the bed. Still holding Delia’s hand tightly in his, he gave a final, respectful bow to her father.

"Until we meet again, Baron Henry."

The Baron smiled faintly. "Until then, Your Grace."

And with that, Eric led Delia out of the room, away from her prison, and into the terrifying, brilliant light of their new beginning.

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