Reborn: The Duke's Obsession-Chapter 28 - Twenty Eight

"Because I want to."

Those four simple words echoed through the sunlit kitchen, hanging in the silence between them. They were an answer that explained everything and nothing at all.

"What?" Delia asked, her voice barely audible, certain she must have misheard him. Was he admitting to feelings that went beyond their deal?

Eric’s serious expression suddenly broke, and a charming, teasing smile took its place. He picked up his spoon again. "You asked me why I’m doing all of this for you," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well, it’s because I want to. To cook, that is." He gestured with his head towards the stove. "It’s been a while since I’ve had the chance to cook for someone else."

Delia felt a strange mixture of disappointment and relief. He was deflecting, keeping her at a distance, but also easing the sudden, intense pressure that had filled the room. She let out a small, pretentious smile of her own, playing along with his game.

"Eat," Eric told her again, his tone gentle once more. "The food is getting cold."

She nodded and took a small, hesitant bite. It was delicious. The flavors were perfectly balanced, and the vegetables were cooked just right. She took another small bite, conscious of his eyes on her.

"Eat more," he urged softly.

"I might throw up," she replied honestly, the memory of the previous night still fresh.

"Then we start slow," he said, his voice patient and understanding.

They ate together in a comfortable silence. Delia ate more than she had in months, but she was careful, taking small portions and stopping when her stomach began to protest. Eric, noticing she was done, finished his own plate and then, without a word, reached over and pulled her plate towards him, finishing the food she couldn’t. It was a simple, domestic act, yet it felt more intimate than anything she had ever experienced.

After the meal, Delia helped him gather the plates. "It was delicious," she said sincerely. "Thank you."

"I’m glad you liked it," he replied, his smile warm.

He held her hand, his touch sending a familiar jolt through her. He led her out of the kitchen and into a grand drawing room. He sat her down on a plush sofa before disappearing into his study. A moment later, he returned with an inkwell, a fine quill, a heavy brass seal, and a rolled sheet of thick parchment.

He dropped everything on the low table in front of her and passed the parchment to her. "You can read it," he said. "It has all the conditions you set from our last conversation. Aiden drafted it this morning."

Delia unrolled the document. The handwriting was neat and precise. She read the lines, her lips moving as she whispered the key phrases aloud, making them real.

"’...the Duchess Delia may have a lover, and the Duke Eric may have a mistress...’" she murmured. "’...the parties shall not invade each other’s private space or personal affairs unless explicitly invited...’" She scanned further down. "’...Duration of contract: one year, with an option to renew upon mutual agreement...’"

It was everything she had asked for. A business deal, clean and simple, that gave her a year of protection and power. She nodded her head in approval and gave the parchment back to Eric.

"Is everything to your liking?" he asked.

She nodded again, her throat suddenly too tight to speak. He dipped the long quill into the dark inkwell, the scratching sound loud in the quiet room as he signed his name with a confident flourish. He then passed the parchment and quill to her. Her hand trembled slightly as she signed her own name beneath his. With her signature, Delia Ellington ceased to exist, and Delia Carson began.

He took the document back, dripped a small pool of dark red wax onto it, and pressed his family seal into it, a deep indentation of a lion holding a star. It was official.

He carefully rolled the parchment and took it, along with the inkwell and quill, back to his study. Delia watched him go. He returned a moment later, his hands empty.

"Would you like to live here after we get married?" he asked, breaking the silence. "Of course, if you choose to, I will employ a full staff to meet your needs." He offered another option. "Or you can stay at the main Carson estate with my mother and my sister, Amber."

"I don’t know yet," Delia replied honestly.

The thought of choosing her own home was a luxury she had never considered.

"It’s no rush," he said easily. He stood up, stretching out his hand to her, which she took without hesitation. "But there’s no harm in showing you around your potential new home, right?"

She allowed him to pull her to her feet. He led her on a tour, his hand holding hers loosely. He showed her his study, filled with ledgers and books; the kitchen she was now familiar with; the grand drawing room with a beautiful black piano in the corner; a library that rivaled her father’s, filled with books from floor to ceiling; and the beautiful, sun-drenched garden at the back of the house.

Finally, they came to a stop upstairs in front of a large wooden door. "This is my room," he said. He gave her a teasing look. "I won’t be staying here often, unfortunately, so don’t go trying to sneak in because you miss me."

His playful tone made her smile. He then led her to another door, just a few feet from his. "And this," he said, his voice softening, "is your room."

He opened the door, and Delia stepped inside. She gasped.

"It’s beautiful," she breathed, her eyes wide with awe.

The room was bigger and more elegant than any room she had ever been in, let alone her own small, sparse chamber at the Ellington manor. It was decorated in soft shades of cream, blue, and silver. A massive four-poster bed with light, airy curtains stood against one wall. A comfortable-looking chaise lounge sat by a large window that overlooked the garden. There was a beautiful vanity table with a silver-backed brush set and a writing desk made of light-colored wood.

She walked around, taking in every detail, her fingers trailing along the fine furniture. She came to the wardrobe, a set of tall, beautifully carved wooden doors.

Hesitantly, she opened one. Inside, she saw an array of beautiful dresses hanging in neat rows: day gowns in soft cottons and linens, and elegant dresses for occasions in shimmering silks and velvets. She touched each fabric, the feel of the fine materials a world away from the worn-out hand-me-downs she was used to.

"Whose taste is this?" she asked, turning back to him, her eyes shining. "Was it you, Your Grace?"

He shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. "That would be my aide’s work. If you don’t like them, please let me know. I can always fire him."

Delia’s face broke into a radiant, joyful smile, one so full of childlike innocence it made Eric’s breath catch. "Quite the opposite, actually," she beamed. "I love them." She turned back to the wardrobe. "Make sure to give him a raise." She continued Browse through the collection, pulling out a simple blue day dress and holding it against herself. She looked through the drawers, finding neatly folded stockings, chemises, and accessories. Everything a lady could ever need was here.

Eric smiled, leaning against the doorframe, content just to see her so happy. freёwebnoѵel.com

She turned back to him, her happiness making her bold. "Aiden sure has good taste."

"He’s quite knowledgeable about women," Eric answered, his tone dry. "They always seem to be flocking around him."

Delia nodded, finally stepping away from the wardrobe. The reality of their situation began to settle in again.

"I will have an audience with my mother first," Eric said, his voice becoming serious again, sensing her shift in mood. "I will handle her. Only after that will I invite your family for the formal introduction. So don’t fret." He stepped closer to her. "I will be with you every step of the way."

His reassurance was a comforting balm on her anxious heart. She looked up at him, into his steady, sincere eyes, and for the first time, she truly believed him.

"Okay," she replied.

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