Reborn: The Duke's Obsession-Chapter 29 - Twenty Nine

The air in the gambling ring was thick and heavy, a soupy mixture of cigar smoke, spilled wine, and noise. The low-ceilinged room was dimly lit by flickering oil lamps that cast long, dancing shadows on the walls. The only sharp sounds were the clinking of gold coins, the soft slap of cards on felt tables, and the low, constant murmur of voices, which buzzed like a nest of angry bees.

And today, the bees were buzzing around one person in particular: Lord George Pembroke.

He sat at a card table in the center of the room, though he wished he could melt into the shadows. Every time he looked up, he felt their eyes on him. Stares filled with pity, with scorn, with morbid curiosity. The rumors about his broken engagement with Delia Ellington had spread through the city’s underbelly like wildfire.

"Poor fellow," a man at a nearby table muttered to his companion, just loud enough for George to hear. "To be jilted so publicly. She must be a cold-hearted one."

"I heard he was the one at fault," another voice from a different direction whispered. "Neglected her for years. What did he expect?"

"Cheated, I’d wager," a third voice added with a mocking laugh. "They say he has a fondness for the other sister, the pretty one."

Each word was like a small, sharp needle pricking at George’s already frayed nerves. He tried to focus on the cards in his hand, but the voices kept intruding, twisting his thoughts into knots. He took a long gulp of strong, burning wine from the glass at his elbow, hoping it would dull the noise both outside and inside his head.

Then, a fresh piece of gossip flew in, landing at a table just behind him, delivered by a merchant who had just arrived. "Never mind the local drama," the man said, his voice full of excitement. "Have you heard the real news? The Duke of Elinburgh, Eric Carson himself, is courting someone!"

The words flew past George’s ear and struck him like a blow. His blood ran cold. He knew, with a sickening certainty, who they were talking about.

The whispers started up again, now more excited, more intense.

"The Duke? Finally settling down?"

"They say a wedding is imminent!"

"But who is the lucky lady? No one seems to know her name. A mystery woman.

George’s grip on his cards tightened, his knuckles turning white. Hearing them talk about Eric and Delia, even in these vague terms, made his stomach churn with a toxic brew of jealousy and regret. He was so consumed by the whispers, by the image of Delia with the Duke, that he completely lost focus on the game.

"Your play, my lord," his opponent said, a man with a sly, patient smile.

George looked down at his hand, his vision blurry. He saw the cards, but their values and suits meant nothing to him. He chose one at random and threw it onto the table.

A collective gasp went through the men watching the game. His opponent’s smile widened into a triumphant grin. He laid down his own cards, revealing a winning hand that George could have easily beaten if he had been paying any attention at all.

"A foolish move, my lord," the opponent said, not unkindly, as he began to rake in the small mountain of gold coins that had been staked.

George just sat there, staring at the empty space on the table where his money had been. With a low groan of frustration, he ran both hands through his hair, scattering the neatly styled locks into a disheveled mess. He had lost the game, he had lost his money, he had lost Anne and he had lost Delia. He was completely and utterly lost, and he had no idea what to do.

Meanwhile, across town, the atmosphere could not have been more different. In a brightly lit jewelry shop, where sunlight streamed through polished glass windows and glittered on a thousand precious gems, Anne Ellington was playing a game of her own. She had taken Evelin Pembroke, George’s younger sister, shopping.

"How is your mother taking the news?" Anne asked, her voice full of carefully crafted sympathy as she pretended to examine a diamond necklace. freewёbnoνel.com

Evelin sighed, her eyes scanning the rows of glittering jewelries. "She’s devastated," she replied, her voice flat. "She had already planned the entire wedding celebration in her head."

Evelin was a practical girl. While she felt a sliver of sympathy for Delia, she was also keenly aware that a connection to the wealthy Ellington family was now severed. Her loyalty, it turned out, was a commodity, easily swayed by the person she stood to benefit from the most. At the moment, that person was Anne.

Her eyes landed on a particular set in a glass case. It was exquisite: a necklace and matching earrings made of large, teardrop-shaped emeralds, each surrounded by a halo of tiny, brilliant diamonds and set in pale gold. It was a piece worthy of a Duchess.

"Perhaps you and your mother should try to persuade my sister," Anne suggested casually, noticing where Evelin’s attention was focused. "Don’t you think? You know her so well."

Evelin finally tore her eyes away from the emeralds, though the effort was visible. "But Delia isn’t interested anymore," she said with a shrug. "She seems to have made up her mind."

"Who said so?" Anne replied, her tone light and dismissive. "You have forgotten how hopelessly in love she has always been with your brother. I think she is just having cold feet. A moment of panic." She leaned in closer, her voice becoming more persuasive. "She’s likely just trying to make George jealous, to get his attention after he neglected her. It’s a silly game, but you know how dramatic we women can be."

This was a complete lie, but it was a version of the story that might soothe the Pembrokes’ wounded pride. Still absentminded, her gaze drifting back to the emeralds, Evelin said, "Really?"

"Yes," Anne confirmed, sensing she was winning. "If you two could just sweet-talk her a little, remind her of her deep feelings for George, I am sure she would come to her senses. She just needs a little push from a trusted friend."

Evelin nodded slowly, the idea taking root. If she could fix this, she would be a hero to her family. And perhaps there would be other benefits.

Anne looked at the emerald set, then back at Evelin. "Do you like it?" she asked, her voice as smooth as honey.

Evelin’s eyes widened, her heart giving a little flutter of excitement. "Yes," she breathed. "I do. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen." She quickly added, "But is it okay? I don’t want to impose. It must be terribly expensive."

Anne smiled, a triumphant, knowing expression. This was the moment of purchase—not just of the jewelry, but of Evelin’s full cooperation. She gestured to the attentive salesman who was hovering nearby. "We’ll take this set," she said clearly. "Please have it packaged."

Evelin beamed with pure, unadulterated happiness. The emeralds were hers. She would do anything Anne asked. As the salesman carefully placed the jewelry into a velvet-lined box, Evelin’s gaze drifted towards the shop’s entrance. Her eyes suddenly lit up with a new kind of excitement.

"Oh, look!" Evelin said, grabbing Anne’s arm and pointing towards the door. "Isn’t that Amber Carson?"

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