Reborn: The Duke's Obsession-Chapter 38 - Thirty Eight

The carriage rocked gently as it made its way through the city streets, the setting sun painting the sky in soft shades of orange and purple. The tense energy of the tea shop had faded, leaving a quiet, weary atmosphere in its place.

"I’m sorry about today," Eric said, breaking the silence. He had been staring out the window, but now his gaze was on her, his expression full of sincere regret. "I should have anticipated my mother would do something like that. I should have stopped it before it began."

"Don’t mention it," Delia replied, offering him a small, tired smile. She looked at him more closely. There were faint, dark circles under his eyes, and the usual sharp energy he carried was muted. "You look kind of tired," she observed, her voice soft with concern.

"I couldn’t sleep last night," he admitted with a sigh.

"Why?" Delia asked.

Eric relaxed back against the plush velvet seat, a playful glint returning to his eyes. He folded his arms across his chest. "Are you worried about me?" he asked, a teasing smile on his lips. Before she could answer, his smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of genuine weariness. "I don’t want to go home tonight," he confessed quietly. He looked at her, his gaze direct and knowing. "Just like you don’t like going home."

The simple, shared sentiment hung between them, a thread of understanding. Delia smiled. "At least we have something in common." She looked out at the familiar streets that led back to the Ellington manor, a place that had felt more like a prison than a home. The thought of returning there tonight, to face Augusta’s cold fury, was unbearable.

"Can you take me to your private residence?" she asked, turning back to him. "I don’t want to go home tonight either."

Eric’s expression brightened. "On one condition," he replied.

Delia’s brow furrowed. "A condition?"

"Can you play me a song on the piano?" he asked.

She was so surprised by the request that she was momentarily speechless. "How did you..."

He smiled, a full, genuine smile that made him look younger. "Do you think you are the only one who knows how to get information on others?"

Delia smiled back. It seemed they were more alike than she thought.

In the grand drawing room of the Duke’s private residence, the only light came from a few strategically placed lamps, casting a warm, intimate glow. The air was filled with the beautiful, melancholic notes of a piano piece Delia knew by heart. Her fingers, graceful, danced over the ivory keys, pouring all of the day’s frustration, fear, and strange, budding hope into the music.

Eric stood leaning against the doorframe, a steaming cup of tea in his hand, watching her. There was a raw intensity in his eyes, a loving gaze that traced her every movement. He watched the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the way her body swayed with the music, the way the lamplight caught in her dark hair. He was completely captivated.

When the last note faded into silence, Delia let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The silence that followed felt heavy. She stood from the piano bench, took the cup and saucer of warm tea Eric had brought for her, and deliberately walked to the far side of the room to sit on a sofa, putting as much distance between them as possible.

Eric sat down in an armchair opposite her, a look of amused disappointment on his face. "Are you trying to tell me I’m not welcome?" he asked.

Delia took a sip of her tea, using the cup to hide her expression. "What?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"It suddenly turned awkward," he pointed out. He looked at her, his eyes twinkling. "Is this some kind of..." ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

"Some kind of what?" Delia rushed her question, her heart beginning to beat a little faster.

Eric leaned forward. "Is it that you can’t stand the sight of me or..." He suddenly stood up and rushed to the other side of the table, towards the sofa where she was sitting. Panicked, Delia jumped up and ran to where he had just been sitting, taking refuge in the armchair. They had switched seats in a frantic chase.

He stopped, a wide grin on his face. "...or you see me as a man," he finished, his voice full of amusement.

"The former," Delia lied, her voice coming out a little too quickly. She took another sip of her tea, but she couldn’t hide the blush that was burning her cheeks.

Eric chuckled. "How are we going to get my family’s approval if you run away every time I get close to you?"

"I don’t understand," Delia replied, though she understood perfectly.

"We need to know each other better," he said, his tone becoming more serious. "We need to get closer. That way, when we are in front of my mother, or anyone else, we will appear to be a real couple. A couple in love. If they believe it, they won’t have any choice but to approve."

Delia lowered her cup, her mind immediately shifting to logic. This was a problem that could be solved with logic, not emotion. "I guess so. You have a point." Her calculating mind took over. "We can just adjust the contract, then. We can input some new clauses about the specific feelings we are meant to show when in public."

Eric stared at her, speechless for a moment. "Con... contract?" he repeated, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He shook his head. "That won’t be necessary, Delia. This isn’t something we can write down." He looked at her, his expression turning into one of a child who was intensely interested in a new activity.

"Let’s play a game instead. We take turns asking each other questions. About what we like, what we dislike, what we want."

Delia didn’t say anything. The idea of sharing personal information felt far more dangerous than any written clause.

Seeing her hesitation, Eric stood up and went to the liquor cabinet. He returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses. She looked at him, her eyes questioning. "Wine?"

He nodded, a mischievous smile returning. "I figured out that it helps you to be a little more... outspoken," he said, pouring a generous amount into a glass for her. "Since you’re such a lightweight."

Annoyed at being called out, Delia grabbed the glass he offered and gulped half of it down in one go. "I am not," she declared, though the wine was already making her head feel warm and fuzzy.

Eric shrugged, a gesture that said, ’if you say so.’ He took a small sip of his own wine and set his glass down on the table. His playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a look of seriousness.

"You want to take revenge on Anne, her mother, and your ex-fiancé," he stated, getting straight to the point of their new game. He dropped his glass on the table. "Do you know the fastest way to do that? The most effective way?"

She shook her head, her mind a little slow from the wine.

He smiled, a slow, dangerous, and utterly captivating smile. He leaned across the table, his eyes locking with hers, his voice a low, compelling whisper.

"Love me."

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