Reborn: The Duke's Obsession-Chapter 35 - Thirty Five

"I’m Delia Ellington."

Delia’s voice, clear and steady, hung in the suddenly silent room. The ladies who had been rushing to hold Duchess Lyra back froze, their hands still hovering in the air. Duchess Adeline, her face still red with anger, stared at the newcomer with open hostility. Every eye in The Gilded Cage was on Delia.

Duchess Lyra, however, gave the most telling reaction. She took a long, slow look at Delia, her gaze sweeping over her from head to toe, taking in her simple dress, her determined expression, and the blue ribbon in her hair. After a moment of silent, intense scrutiny, Lyra turned her back completely and returned to her easel as if nothing had happened. It was a dismissal more profound than any insult she could have spoken.

The tense moment was broken. The day’s activity had clearly come to an end. The noblewomen, sensing the drama was over for now, began to leave one after the other, their whispers following them out the door.

"Goodbye, Lady Isla. A most... eventful day."

"Have a nice afternoon, Lady Isla."

Isla, the club’s founder, greeted them all with a strained but polite smile, her composure returning as she escorted them out. Soon, the magnificent room was empty, leaving her alone with Delia. The silence that remained was heavy with unspoken questions.

Lady Isla turned to Delia, her professional hostess smile gone, replaced by a look of shrewd curiosity. "Thank you for becoming a member here, Lady Delia, but..." she paused, choosing her words carefully. "Don’t you think it is going to be incredibly awkward between you and Duchess Lyra now?"

"I’m here so that things don’t get awkward," Delia replied, her voice surprisingly confident.

Isla raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "So, it’s true. You want to get her approval to marry her son. You came here specifically to convince his mother." It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. Isla gave a knowing smile. "That has very little to do with our scheduled recreational activities."

Delia bowed her head respectfully. "I’m sorry to be so direct, Lady Isla. But I heard this is where the noblewomen often arrange matches for their children. You yourself have been the one matchmaking His Grace with eligible prospects for years. So, I believe I am in the right place."

Isla’s smile widened. She appreciated the girl’s confidence and her honesty.

"Besides," Delia continued, "I do need to know how to be a proper lady. I was never taught. I heard you also teach noblewomen how to cook for fun. I want to learn that, and painting, and everything else the membership has to offer. I want to be worthy."

Lady Isla looked at Delia, a flicker of interest in her eyes. "Then prove it to me," she challenged. "Prove to me that you’re worth the trouble you’ve just walked into."

Delia reached into the small pouch at her waist. But instead of pulling out more gold coins, she brought out a small, clear glass bottle filled with a vibrant red liquid. It was a food dye.

Isla was shocked. She stared at the small bottle, then back at Delia, her expression a mixture of confusion and amusement. "What is this?" she asked.

"It’s a food dye," Delia replied. "I made it myself."

Isla didn’t know how to approach the situation. It was the most unusual and unexpected thing a prospective member had ever done.

"That means I’m very productive," Delia continued, trying to explain her strange logic. "It means your efforts and lessons on me will not be a waste. I am a fast learner and a hard worker." She held the bottle out. "It’s a healthy food dye, very nutritious. It’s made from strawberries and beets, with no harmful chemicals. Making dyes is what I know. Food dyes, textile dyes, candle dyes, you name it. My family has a textile establishment, and I learned everything there. Dyes... dyes and playing the piano are the only things I truly know how to do." She paused, then added with a self-deprecating smile, "I was hoping to use it as a bribe." She hoped her choice of words wasn’t too stupid.

Isla took the bottle. A small, genuine smile touched her lips. "I don’t accept bribes, Lady Delia," she said. She uncorked the bottle and sniffed it. A rich, sweet strawberry fragrance filled the air. Looks good, she thought to herself. She looked back at Delia. "What if I buy it instead? Have you ever sold a dye before?"

Delia shook her head. "No." fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

"Then I will be your first patron," Isla declared. She opened her own coin pouch and gave Delia several silver coins, a fair price for the unique, handcrafted item. "Here you go." She smiled. "I don’t like owning anyone favors. This makes us even."

Delia collected the coins, a thrill running through her. She couldn’t believe she had just made her first sale. "So... am I accepted?"

Isla’s professional smile returned. "The club meets thrice a week. Mornings for activities, afternoons for tea and conversation." She held out her hand, a gesture of formal welcome. "I guess you’re in my care now, Lady Delia."

Delia smiled and took the offered hand, shaking it firmly. It was a start.

Leaving the imposing building, Delia felt a small sense of victory. As she stepped out into the courtyard, she saw Duchess Lyra sitting alone on a marble bench, fanning herself slowly as she waited for her carriage. Her anger seemed to have subsided, replaced by a cool, thoughtful air.

Delia gave a respectful curtsy as she got to where the duchess was.

Lyra snapped her fan shut with a sharp click. "I doubt you paid the exorbitant membership fee for an expensive recreational club for ladies just to learn how to paint," she said, her voice cool and direct.

Delia couldn’t say anything. The Duchess was too perceptive.

Lyra stood up, her gaze intense. "Hmm,"

She said "How about it, Delia Ellington? Do you have time for a cup of tea?"

The invitation was a command. "Yes, Your Grace," Delia responded.

They got into the Duchess’s luxurious carriage and left. They arrived at an exquisite tea shop in the most fashionable part of the city, a place so exclusive that only the highest nobility could afford it. A man in a fine attire hovered by the door, bowing low as they approached.

"Welcome, Your Grace," he said, his voice full of respect. "Thank you for gracing us with your presence today. Your private space is set and ready, just as you requested."

He led them through the main tea room, where elegantly dressed ladies paused their conversations to watch the Duchess pass, and into a separate, more lavish section of the shop, closed off by a velvet curtain. As the man pulled the curtain aside for them to enter, a familiar voice greeted them from within.

"Your Grace," the voice said. "You’ve arrived."

Delia’s eyes widened in complete and utter surprise. Seated at the table, looking just as shocked to see Delia, was Anne.

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