Reborn: The Duke's Obsession-Chapter 50 - Fifty

The moon was beginning to climb the sky, casting a silvery glow over the quiet street as the carriage pulled to a stop. George came down first, his movements stiff and formal. He then went around and opened Delia’s door, holding his hand in an attempt to take her trunk from her.

She held onto the handle, pulling it back. "What are you doing?" she demanded, her voice low and angry. "Didn’t I warn you never to appear in front of me again?"

George ignored her questions, his own face set in determination. He replied with his own question. "You are going to the Duke’s residence, right? I’ll drive you there."

"No, thank you," Delia said, yanking the trunk from his grasp. "I will go on my own."

George tried again to take the trunk, his grip firm. "I know the way," he insisted. "And I need to talk to you, Delia. It’s important."

She held her ground, her fingers digging into the worn leather handle of the trunk. "I said no, George Pembroke! What part of that do you not understand? What is your problem?"

"Please, Delia, just let me do this one thing," he pleaded, his voice cracking slightly. "It might be the last time I can ever do anything for you."

His words, so full of pathetic, manipulative despair, made her resolve falter for just a second. In that moment of hesitation, he snatched the trunk from her grasp, quickly loaded it into the carriage, and then turned back to her. He held out his hand to help her up. She swatted it away with a sharp, angry motion and got inside the carriage herself, taking a seat as far away from him as possible.

The ride to the Duke’s residence was completed in a heavy, suffocating silence. The only sound was the rhythmic clatter of the horse’s hooves on the cobblestones. The moon climbed higher, a silent, white witness to the tension between them.

They finally arrived outside the high, elegant gates of Eric’s private residence. Delia came down first, not waiting for his help. George followed, pulling her trunk out after her.

"I’ll put this inside for you," he offered, starting towards the gate.

"No, thank you," Delia replied sharply, taking the trunk from him. "Please leave now, George."

He didn’t move. "Delia," he said, her name a soft, pained sound on his lips. He sighed, a long, weary exhalation. "Did you only ever think of me as a lover?"

The question was so stupid, so completely self-absorbed, that Delia was momentarily shocked. "What?"

"So if that part of our relationship is over, are we just going to be strangers from henceforth?" he continued, his voice full of a sorrow she no longer believed was genuine. "We were childhood friends, Delia. We had no one but each other for years."

Delia scoffed, a short, bitter sound. "Are you blaming me for this now?" she asked, her patience wearing thin. "Have you completely forgotten how we ended up here in the first place?"

"I know it was my fault," George replied quickly. "I know that. And that’s why I can’t be mad that you’re marrying another man. Even if it hurts me, I will wish you happiness. I will. As a friend who still cares about you."

Delia dropped her trunk on the ground with a thud and folded her arms across her chest, her expression one of utter irritation. "What is it that you really want, George? Just spit it out."

"I wouldn’t be like this if it was any other man," he said, his voice dropping low. "But the Duke... he’s not it, Delia." He took a step closer. "Think about it. He just met you. In a matter of days, he proposed to you, met with your family, and now he’s having you move into his house, and you two aren’t even married yet. The few people who know the Duke, who know how private and serious he is, would never believe this. It just doesn’t sit right."

"That must be how in love he is with me," Delia replied coolly.

George looked shocked that she wasn’t seeing his reasoning. "When men are in love," she continued, her eyes raking over him with open disdain, from his expensive shoes to his handsome, worried face, "they can’t see anything else. They do things that seem irrational to others." She paused, letting her next words land.

"Like you, for instance. Wanting to be close to the one you love so badly that you don’t even mind marrying her sister just to achieve that."

George let out a loud sigh, as if he had been holding his breath for a long time. The accusation had hit its mark. "I asked him," he said, changing the subject. "I asked him if he knew about our relationship, about our past. And he said he didn’t care. What kind of man doesn’t care about his woman’s past?"

Delia, now thoroughly annoyed, replied, "His Grace is fine with it, unlike some pathetic humans I know." She picked up her trunk, brought out the key Eric had given her, and began to unlock the heavy iron gate.

George followed her in as she pushed the gate open. "Delia, please listen to me. I’m not doing this for no reason. The Duke is a scary person. I’m sure he has ulterior motive for all of this."

Suddenly, the sound of a heavy door opening echoed from the direction of the carriage house. A figure emerged from the shadows. It was Mr. Rye, but he was not the kindly old driver she knew. In his hands, he held a long, dark rifle. The menacing click of him loading a cartridge into the chamber echoed in the silent courtyard. He raised the rifle and pointed it directly at George’s chest.

"Who are you?" Mr. Rye’s voice was no longer warm and friendly. It was cold, hard, and dangerous. " State your business here now before a bullet breaks your skull."

Delia was shocked. She stared at the driver, at the professional, steady way he held the weapon. It became instantly clear that Mr. Rye was not just a driver; he was a guard, highly trained, tasked with protecting Eric’s residence and his safety, using the role of a simple driver as a disguise.

"It’s fine, Mr. Rye," she said quickly, stepping between George and the rifle. "Lord George is just about to leave. You can return and enjoy your rest."

Mr. Rye looked at George for a long, hard moment, his eyes filled with suspicion, before he finally lowered the rifle. "Let me know if you need anything, Milady." Delia nodded. With a curt nod to her, he turned and disappeared back.

Delia let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and continued walking to the front door, dragging her trunk behind her. George, looking pale and shaken, followed her.

As she was about to put the key in the keyhole, finally ready to enter her new, safe life, George said something that made her entire body freeze.

"Do you know the Duke tried to kill someone?"

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fre𝒆webnove(l).𝐜𝐨𝗺