Reborn: The Duke's Obsession-Chapter 43 - Forty Three

"That’s not her fault, is it?"

Duchess Lyra’s words, spoken so calmly and with such simple logic, were a shield against Augusta’s harsh words. Delia looked at the Duchess, at this woman who was defending her, and her heart filled with a warmth so profound it almost brought tears to her eyes. For the first time, she felt like she had a true ally.

Augusta, however, was a master of turning defeat into a new angle of attack. She smiled, a gracious, understanding expression that was utterly false. "If only everyone in this world was as open-minded as you, Your Grace," she sighed theatrically. "How great would our kingdom be?"

She took a delicate sip of her tea before setting the cup down, her expression turning sorrowful. "But in reality, people will talk. They will whisper behind your back." She looked at Lyra with feigned concern. "’She’s an illegitimate child,’ they will say. ’That’s why she can’t amount to anything. She was taught all the wrong things.’ I have worked extra hard my entire life, Your Grace, to protect our family name, not to hear such terrible things, but..." She turned her pitying gaze upon Delia.

"She can’t behave like a proper lady. She can’t maintain decorum in a public setting. She doesn’t know the most basic etiquette, and so on." She looked back at Lyra, shaking her head sadly. "After you have married her into your prestigious family, I do wonder what people will say then. The whispers will follow her, and by extension, they will follow you."

From across the table, Amber murmured under her breath, just loud enough for Eric to hear, "Did they show up just to ruin this marriage completely?"

Delia felt a familiar wave of anxiety wash over her. Her hands, hidden in her lap, began to tremble. Augusta’s words were poison, designed to make her seem like damaged goods, a liability to the great Carson family. Eric felt the tremor in her hand and covered it with his own, his grip firm and reassuring. His eyes met hers, and they seemed to say, "Don’t worry. I am here."

He spoke, his voice calm but firm, a direct challenge to Augusta’s claims. "If you are saying all of this out of concern for us, Baroness, then you don’t need to worry. Delia is an amazing person. If she weren’t, I would have never wanted to marry her in the first place."

Augusta smiled, her eyes glittering. She turned her attack back to Delia. "Delia, do you feel the same?" she asked sweetly.

When Delia remained silent, still shaken, Augusta pressed on. "I’m just curious, my dear. Do you truly think you are qualified to be the Carson’s daughter-in-law?"

The direct challenge, the public questioning of her worth, was meant to break her. But instead, it ignited a spark. Delia took a deep breath, stilled her trembling hands, and smiled.

"You are right, Mother," she said, her voice surprisingly steady. The other women looked at her, shocked by her sudden agreement. "I am inadequate. Like you said, I’m not good enough." She paused, then continued, her eyes now shining with a clever light. "But for this special occasion, knowing I would be meeting you all, I brought a small gift. It is the only thing I am good at. May I show it to you?"

The Dowager Duchess, intrigued by this unexpected turn, leaned forward. "A gift? What is it, child?"

Delia stood up and went to the entrance of the room, where she had asked a footman to place a small wooden crate. She brought it back and set it on the table. Inside, nestled in soft straw, were dozens of small glass bottles filled with the most vibrant, beautiful dyes the women had ever seen—deep crimsons, brilliant sapphires, and rich emeralds.

Augusta’s eyes widened, her face turning pale. She recognized them instantly.

"You made these, Delia?" the Dowager Duchess asked, picking up a bottle of deep violet dye and admiring the color.

Delia smiled and nodded. "Yes, Your Grace. I worked at the Ellington Textile Establishment for many years, so I am pretty much good at this." She took a quick, pointed glance at Augusta before she continued. "You could say my dyes are quite different from the ’fakes’ that are sometimes circulating in the market."

Augusta’s face turned ashen. She knew Delia was referring to her own practice of diluting and counterfeiting dyes.

"Actually," Delia continued, her voice now full of a daughter’s pride, "my mother does some charity work. She often takes the dyes I make and sells them, donating the profits to charitable causes, like this very orphanage." This was a masterful lie, one that painted Augusta as a saint while simultaneously trapping her.

"I brought some here today," Delia said, gesturing to the crate. "I thought the staff could use these dyes for the children’s clothing, to bring some color into their lives. Or, they could sell them and use the profits for the children’s welfare."

"Oh, my," the Dowager Duchess said, her voice full of genuine admiration. "How incredibly thoughtful of you, Delia. Thank you so much for this wonderful gift."

Still angry and now publicly outmaneuvered, Augusta stood up, her composure finally cracking. Her smile was gone, replaced by a tight, furious line.

"Delia," she said through gritted teeth. "Could we talk for a moment? Alone." She turned and stalked out of the room.

Eric held Delia’s wrist, a worried look on his face. "You don’t have to go."

Delia shook her head and gently removed his hand from hers. She gave him a small, reassuring smile, then stood up and followed her stepmother.

She found Augusta pacing angrily in the empty hallway, like a caged tiger. The moment she saw Delia, she rounded on her. "When did you make those dyes?" she demanded, her voice a low, furious hiss. "You told me you couldn’t achieve that color and texture! You told me it was impossible! So tell me, what are those dyes doing here?"

Delia smiled, a cold, calm expression. "Calm down, Mother. I figured out a long time ago that it wasn’t worth the stress to create perfect dyes for you, since you would just make a cheap fake to sell to the poor masses, while you sold the original one I made to rich merchants for a massive profit." Her voice was devoid of emotion. "So, I decided to save my best work. I thought it might be better used to impress my future in-laws."

"That was Earl Conrad’s procurement!" Augusta whisper-shouted, her face red with rage. "He paid a fortune for that specific shade of violet! What am I supposed to tell him?"

"It’s just one rich buyer," Delia said with a dismissive shrug. "I’m sure you can find more." She smirked.

"You really want to go at it with me?" Augusta snarled, taking a threatening step forward. "Are you out of your mind?" freewёbnoνel-com

"Yes, I am," Delia replied, not backing down an inch. "I’m going through with this marriage, no matter what you or anyone else tries to do." Her voice grew stronger with every word. "And while I’m at it, I’m going to do it right. I will be wearing the most expensive wedding dress money can buy, at the most luxurious venue in the kingdom. With you, Anne, Father, and Grandfather all sitting in the front row to bless our marriage."

She moved closer to Augusta, her own eyes now flashing with a dangerous fire. "So, Mother," she whispered, her voice like ice. "Wrap up this little introduction nicely, and stop trying to provoke me. You won’t like the consequences."

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