Reborn: The Duke's Obsession-Chapter 52 - Fifty Two

The drawing room of the Duke’s private residence was bathed in the warm, golden light of a new morning. Owen sat on the edge of a plush, velvet sofa, his small feet not quite reaching the floor. He looked around the room, his eyes wide with an awe he couldn’t conceal. He gazed at the high ceilings, the elegant furniture, the grand piano in the corner, and the way the sunlight streamed through the tall, clean windows, making dust motes dance like tiny fairies in the air.

He bounced up and down several times on the soft sofa cushion, a wide, delighted grin spreading across his face. It was the most comfortable thing he had ever sat on.

Delia entered the room carrying a tray with a crystal jug of lemonade and two tall glasses. She smiled at the sight of him. "I see you’re making yourself at home." fгeewёbnoѵel_cσm

"Thank you for inviting me here, Lady Delia," Owen said, his bouncing coming to an immediate stop as he tried to look more formal and mature. "I never even dreamt I would be inside the Duke’s residence one day. It’s... it’s amazing."

Delia smiled and poured him a glass of the lemonade. "I’m glad you could come, Owen."

He took the glass she offered and drank it down, savoring the sweet and tangy taste as if it were the finest wine. When he was done, he set the glass down with a satisfied sigh.

Delia sat in the armchair opposite him, her expression turning serious. "Owen, I wanted to ask you about something," she started, "something that’s been bothering me a great deal."

Owen’s cheerful expression immediately fell. He put on a long, pouty face. "And here I was, thinking you invited me over just because you missed my company," he said, his voice full of mock disappointment.

Delia couldn’t help but smile at his childish behavior. She reached over and ruffled his messy brown hair. "It’s not like that, Owen. Of course I missed you."

His pout vanished, replaced by a shrewd, business-like look that was far too old for his young face. "Well, you know my information isn’t cheap, Lady Delia."

Delia’s smile widened. "What do you want this time?"

"Gold coins," he replied promptly. "Enough that would last me for a whole week, with extra for meat pies and apple tart."

"Okay," Delia agreed without hesitation. His information was worth far more than that. "It’s a deal." With the business out of the way, she asked her question, her voice dropping low. "Duke Eric and his older brother, Duke Philip... they aren’t close, are they?"

Owen’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Where did you hear that?" he asked, his tone cautious.

"You told me yourself, the last time we met," Delia reminded him. "You said Duke Eric wouldn’t return to the family business for Duke Philip’s sake. You said they are not on good terms." She paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself before asking the distressing question that had been haunting her since she last saw George. "Is it true, Owen? Is it true that Duke Eric set off a wild horse against his own brother?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and ugly.

Owen looked away, suddenly finding the pattern on the expensive rug very interesting. "I don’t know about that, my lady," he said, his voice losing its usual confidence. "I’m not sure." He was hesitant to share this particular piece of information. It was dangerous.

"Please, Owen," Delia pressed, her voice urgent. "I need to know the truth."

He sighed, realizing he couldn’t refuse her. He looked back at her, his young face serious. "It’s true that a horse went wild during a family hunt many years ago," he confirmed quietly. "And it’s true that it threw his brother, Duke Philip. The accident... it made his brother disabled. That is a fact."

"But it could have been an accident," Delia said, a hopeful, pleading note in her voice. "Just a terrible accident caused by a naive boy."

Owen shook his head slowly. "That’s not the story that was told at the time," he said, his voice a low whisper. "Duke Philip insisted firmly, to anyone who would listen, that Duke Eric released the wild horse on him intentionally. And... the stable hands who were there that day gave a similar testimony." He leaned forward. "No one in the Carson family ever brings that incident up. It’s like it never happened. It’s their deepest, darkest secret."

Delia was silent for a long while, the beautiful, sunlit room suddenly feeling cold and dark. The story was worse than she had imagined. It wasn’t just George’s desperate rumor; there were witnesses. She didn’t know what to do, what to believe.

~ ••••• ~

Across town at the dye industry headquarters, Eric was in his study, reviewing a stack of international procurement orders. The door to his study suddenly burst open, and Aiden rushed in, panting, his usual perfect composure completely gone.

"Your Grace!" he shouted, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. "Your Grace!"

Eric looked up from his papers, a deep frown forming on his face. "Aiden," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "You know how much I hate it when you..."

"Your Grace, there’s a problem," Aiden interrupted, his voice full of urgency. "A serious problem."

Eric’s annoyance vanished, replaced by a sharp focus. He looked on, waiting for the information.

Aiden continued, still panting. "It’s Duke Philip..."

Eric’s expression immediately hardened at the mention of his brother’s name. "What did Philip do now?"

"He’s made things difficult, Your Grace," Aiden said. He walked closer to the desk and held out a letter. It was sealed with the official, imposing wax seal of the Carson family head. Aiden bowed his head and quickly left the room, knowing the Duke would want to be alone to read this.

Eric stared at the letter on his desk, a feeling of cold dread seeping into his heart. Nothing good ever came in an envelope bearing that seal, especially not from his brother.

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