Reborn: The Duke's Obsession-Chapter 46 - Forty Six

It was a new day at the grand Carson family mansion. The morning sun streamed into the breakfast room, a cheerful, airy space filled with flowers and the scent of freshly baked bread. Duchess Lyra sat at the head of the table, taking a slow, contemplative sip of her morning cinnamon tea. Across from her, the Dowager Duchess, her mother-in-law, took a delicate bite of a warm scone with clotted cream and jam.

Amber came into the room with a bright smile, followed by a maid who carried a large silver tray holding three small, ornate dishes of freshly chopped mixed fruits containing strawberries, grapes, and melon.

"You can just drop it on the table, Elara. I’ll take it from here," Amber said kindly to the maid. "Thank you."

The maid did as she was told, curtsied, and left the room. Amber, humming a cheerful tune, took a plate of fruit from the tray. "Grandma," she said, her smile warm as she placed the dish in front of the Dowager Duchess.

Then, her smile faded a bit as she turned to her mother dropping a plat of fruit in front of her. Lyra was staring blankly into her teacup, a deep frown line etched between her brows. "Mama," Amber said, her cheerful tone softening with concern. "Why are you so moody this morning?"

Lyra snapped out of her thoughts, her gaze clearing. "Amber," she said, her voice serious. "What do you think?"

Amber popped a bright red strawberry into her mouth, her cheeks puffing out slightly as she sat down. "Of what?" she asked.

"The family of the girl who wants to marry your brother," Lyra clarified. "The Ellingtons. What did you think of them?"

Amber chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then swallowed. "Do you remember that book I procured last month from that bookseller in the north?" she asked. "The one about the evil stepmother who torments the poor orphan girl?"

Lyra nodded her head, remembering the gothic novel her daughter had been so engrossed in.

"Well," Amber continued, her expression turning serious, "Baroness Augusta is a more evil, more cunning, and much better-dressed version of that stepmother in my book."

Lyra didn’t say anything. She just continued to listen to her daughter, her own thoughts mirroring Amber’s.

"You saw it too, right, Mama?" Amber went on, her voice full of displeasure. "You saw her pretending to be so nice and concerned, while at the same time putting her own daughter down right in front of us. It was so obvious. I noticed it immediately."

"I know, I noticed it too," Lyra agreed, her voice tight with annoyance. "And accusing us of not having manners, of not treating them with the proper respect, simply because we chose a humble venue. The nerve. "

Amber nodded her head vigorously as she used a small silver fork to poke a plump green grape. "And then," Lyra continued, her anger growing as she replayed the scene in her mind, "they put their own child down in front of a room full of strangers for being an illegitimate child. As if Delia had anything to do with the circumstances of her own birth, as if she could change that fate."

Lyra slumped back into her cushioned chair, the memory making her feel tired and annoyed all over again. Her eyes suddenly shot wide as a new, more disturbing thought occurred to her. "Wait a second," she said, sitting up straight again. "Isn’t that ill-treatment of a child?"

Her mother-in-law, the Dowager Duchess, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke. "She is no longer a child, Lyra."

"But she was a child once!" Lyra insisted. Amber, her mouth now filled with melon, nodded her head in agreement with her mother. "They have probably been treating her like that since her childhood. Do they even feed her properly? No wonder she’s so skinny. She’s like a fragile little bird. Poor child."

The Dowager Duchess and Amber both stopped eating their fruit. They looked at Lyra, who was now pacing back and forth in front of the window, her face a mask of worried contemplation. Amber, her fork still in her mouth, slowly developed a wide, mischievous smirk.

Lyra, sensing their gazes, stopped her pacing and looked at them. "What? What’s wrong?"

Amber smiled, licking her fork slowly and deliberately. "Wow, Mama," she said, waving the fork at her mother in a teasing gesture. "Has she stolen your heart already?" She raised a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

Lyra’s face flushed slightly. "Stolen my heart? What do you mean?" she said, flustered. "I just feel bad for her, that’s all. The girl is clearly in a difficult situation."

The Dowager Duchess, ever the voice of wisdom, smiled gently. "Pity, my dear Lyra, is what you feel for a stray animal you find in the rain," she said softly. "It is not the emotion one typically feels for a future daughter-in-law."

"Mother... I don’t..." Lyra began, but she was interrupted by her daughter.

Amber, seeing her mother’s discomfort, tried to improve the atmosphere. "In any case, all of this is irrelevant now," she declared with a dramatic wave of her hand. "We could sit here all day talking about it, but it doesn’t matter to Eric. He’s already completely smitten and absolutely crazy about her."

"Amber!" the Dowager Duchess scolded gently. "Young girls do not talk about their older brothers in such a manner. ’Crazy about her,’ indeed."

"Has Amber ever treated us like proper older brothers before?"

A new voice, male and filled with a deep, rumbling amusement, sounded from behind the three women, interrupting their conversation. A young man, tall and well-built, with the same dark hair as Eric but with lighter, warmer eyes, walked into the room. He was handsome, perhaps four years older than Eric, and he walked with the aid of an elegant but sturdy cane, his left leg held slightly stiffly.

The three women turned, their faces breaking into smiles at the sight of him.

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