Reborn: The Duke's Obsession-Chapter 48 - Forty Eight

The study at the heart of Eric’s dye industry was a reflection of the man himself: organized, tasteful, and serious.

Polished oak shelves lined one wall, displaying not books, but glass bottles filled with vibrant powdered pigments. Bolts of exquisitely dyed silks and velvets were neatly arranged on a large table, and the air carried the faint, earthy scent of indigo and madder root.

Eric sat behind his large uncluttered desk. Aiden stood by his side, ever the professional aide. Across from them sat Count Robert, a tubby, cheerful nobleman with a genuine appreciation for quality.

"I must say, Your Grace, I really do love the royal dye I procured from you the last time," the Count said, his voice booming with enthusiasm. "My daughter’s dress for the summer festival had the brightest, most brilliant glow. Everyone was asking about it. Thank you, Your Grace."

Eric smiled, a gesture of genuine pleasure. "We love to hear such positive reviews about our work, my lord. It is our goal to provide unparalleled quality."

"Indeed, indeed!" Robert continued. "That is precisely why I am here again. I need another procurement. My eldest daughter is getting married, you see, and I want to give her a wedding gift that will be the talk of the kingdom for years to come. I would like two liters of your signature royal purple dye."

Eric leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. "A magnificent choice. But may I offer a suggestion?" He paused, allowing the Count to lean in with interest. "What if you get one liter of the royal purple, and one liter of our new lilac dye? A bright, ethereal color paired with a deep, dark one would be a stunning contrast. Imagine the wedding procession, with fabrics of both shades. It would be unforgettable."

Count Robert’s eyes lit up. "By jove, what a splendid idea, Your Grace! Perfect!" He beamed. "What would be the price for such a combination?"

"Ten thousand gold coins," Eric stated simply, his voice even.

The Count’s cheerful expression faltered. He flinched, a slight tremor passing through his portly frame. "Your Grace," he began, his voice losing some of its boom. "Forgive me for saying so, but... the price has nearly doubled since my last purchase."

Eric replied truthfully, his tone reasonable and direct. "Unfortunately, the cost of making our royal purple dye has increased significantly. The rare sea snails we must import from the southern coasts have become much harder to acquire. So, we had to increase our prices to match. It is a matter of supply and demand."

Robert nodded slowly, his face a mixture of disappointment and understanding. He was a reasonable man. Before he could agree to the new price, the study door was flung open with such force that it banged against the interior wall.

"Is this how you run your business, Your Grace?"

George Pembroke stood in the doorway, his face flushed with anger, his breathing heavy. Two of Eric’s guards were right behind him, trying to pull him back.

"I’m sorry, Your Grace," one of the guards said, apologizing profusely. "He was too quick. We tried to stop him."

Eric simply gestured for them to leave, his expression unchanged. He then turned to George with a quiet, friendly smile that did not reach his eyes. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your unexpected visit, Lord George?"

George, ignoring the dismissal of the guards, strode into the room and took a seat beside the bewildered Count Robert. "I am here to procure a purple dye for my sister," he announced, "but I couldn’t help but overhear the ridiculous hike in the price."

Eric began to drum his fingers softly on the polished surface of his desk, a slow, deliberate rhythm. Aiden looked at George, at the casual, almost disrespectful manner in which he was speaking to the Duke, and his own posture stiffened with disapproval.

"Of course," Eric replied smoothly. "As I was explaining to the Count, the cost of production increased, so the sales price must also increase. Or do you expect me to run a charity and incur losses, my lord?"

George returned Eric’s smile with a challenging one of his own. "Of course the sales price will increase, Your Grace, but surely not to that margin. You can’t just exhort people and overcharge them because you are a high-profile nobleman and a successful business owner."

Aiden could not stay silent any longer. "Lord George," he interjected, his voice sharp and cold. "Those are some very strong and unfounded words."

Eric held up a hand to silence his aide. "If I can’t run my business the way I see fit," he asked George calmly, "then why should I be the owner?"

Seeing the rising tension, Count Robert tried to be a peacemaker. "About the ten thousand gold coins," he said quickly, "I will send..."

But George interrupted him, his focus solely on Eric. "So, the voice of a patron isn’t worth anything to you? You doubt a loyal patron’s judgment?"

Eric’s calm smile finally faded. "Yes," he replied, his voice flat. "Especially yours, Lord George." George looked stunned. Eric continued, his voice still quiet but now laced with ice. "You can’t even tell if a woman is a good and loyal one or not. Why should I trust your judgment on the price of my dyes?"

The personal insult, so sharp and unexpected, hung in the air. Aiden immediately rushed to Count Robert’s side, helping the confused man to his feet. "My lord, if you would please follow me," Aiden said with urgent politeness. "Let’s finalize your procurement in my study."

Robert stammered, looking from Eric’s cold face to George’s shocked one. "B-but I’m not done with..."

"His Grace is suddenly very busy," Aiden continued, steering the Count towards the door. "I will take it from here."

Robert allowed himself to be led out, and the door closed behind them, leaving Eric and George alone in the now-silent study. Eric relaxed back in his chair and crossed his legs, the picture of ease.

"Stop making excuses about buying dyes and say what you really want to say, Lord George," Eric said, his voice dripping with disdain. "It’s not like you have the money to make such a purchase anyway."

George took a long, deep breath, inhaling the insult, trying to maintain his composure. He finally exhaled and answered. "You are a respectable man, Your Grace, or so I thought. But lusting over another man’s fiancée... that is the height of disrepute. Don’t you think you have gone too far?"

Eric shifted his position slightly, feigning a look of deep thought. "I believe," he said coolly, "that I arrived on the scene after you were dumped, Lord George. There was no fiancée to lust over."

"No!" George insisted, his voice rising. "Delia and I were simply taking a break! To think things through!"

"And Delia thought about things," Eric said with a shrug, "and then she made her decision."

"She doesn’t mean it!" George said, desperation creeping into his voice.

Eric looked at him with genuine curiosity. "Did you really know her that well?"

"I know how much she loved me," George replied confidently. "And for how long. I know she is just upset right now, and I am trying to put everything under control!"

A small, pitying smile touched Eric’s lips at George’s incredible stupidity.

"I’m sorry that you are being used in her little game, Your Grace," George continued, trying to sound sympathetic.

"I don’t care," Eric replied simply.

The blunt, honest answer surprised George. "What?" he asked.

Eric leaned forward, his friendly mask completely gone, his expression now one of deadly seriousness. "I am so in love with her, I don’t care if I am being used. In fact," he said, his voice dropping to a low, intense whisper, "it is an honor to be used by her."

George’s mouth fell slightly open in shock.

Eric continued, his gaze unwavering. "I despise hearing her pretty name coming out of another man’s mouth. It makes me want to do... unreasonable things. I could cut off your tongue and sear your lips shut so that you could never utter her name again."

A cold grip of fear seized George. This was not the calm, reasonable nobleman he had intended to confront.

Then, as quickly as it appeared, the menacing look was gone. Eric smiled, his friendly expression returning. "But that’s love, right?" he said cheerfully. "I’m sure you’ve felt that kind of passion, too."

George, unnerved, tried to get back to his point. "What are you planning on doing to Delia?"

"What do you mean?" Eric asked, feigning innocence. "My duties as her husband, of course." He began to list them off on his fingers, his voice now full of a deep, unwavering sincerity. "Love her. Trust her. Stand by her side. Protect her. And give her the freedom and the life that she so richly deserves."

Each word was a blow to George’s ego. He felt a hot wave of shame wash over him as he realized that in all the years he had been with Delia , he had never given her even one of those things.

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