Chapter 125 - Hundred And Twenty Five

Words : 1004 Updated : Sep 25th, 2025

The carriage pulled up into the familiar courtyard of Eric’s private residence, the crunch of the wheels on the gravel the only sound in the quiet night. The long day, filled with the tensions of the preparation for the upcoming business trip, was finally over. "Your Grace," Aiden said from the seat opposite him. "I will come to pick you up very early tomorrow morning, before sunrise. We need to be at the port to board the ship on time." " How many days are we spending there?" He asked, his voice a soft murmur. Aiden replied. " Two days at most if everything goes smoothly." Eric, his mind already elsewhere, just nodded. He got down from the carriage, and the vehicle drove off, carrying Aiden with it back into the sleeping city. Mr. Rye, who must have been waiting for their return, came out from the main house to greet him. "Welcome back, Your Grace." "Thank you, Mr Rye," Eric said, his voice tired. He looked up at the grand house, his gaze immediately finding the windows to Delia’s room. A soft, warm light flickered behind the drawn curtains, and for a fleeting moment, he saw her silhouette pass by the window. The simple sight, the knowledge that she was in there, safe, in their home, sent a wave of warmth through his weary body. "I am going on a business trip tomorrow, Mr Rye," he said, his eyes still fixed on her window. "I will be back in a few days. Please, take good care of her while I am away." Mr. Rye bowed his head, his expression one of absolute loyalty. "I will protect the Duchess with my life, Your Grace," he vowed. Eric patted the older man on the back, a gesture of deep trust and gratitude, and then went into the house. He climbed the grand staircase, his steps quiet on the thick runner, and went straight to Delia’s room. He knocked softly on the door. "Come in," her soft voice replied from within. Eric opened the door and his breath caught in his throat. She was sitting up in the large, comfortable bed, her back resting against the plush headboard, the thick, downy covers pulled up to her waist. She wasn’t wearing her usual modest robe, just a simple, silk nightgown, its thin straps showing off her delicate shoulders. Her long, dark hair was down, a cascade of soft curls framing her face and tumbling over her shoulders. She had a book she was reading on her hand, and the flicker of the lamp she was using to read made her luminous blue eyes shine like jewels in the soft light. "Eric, you are home," she said, a small, welcoming smile on her face as she put the book down on her laps. He returned her smile but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. She saw the smile, but she also saw the sadness that still lingered in the corners of his eyes, like something has been bothering him and he could not seem to hide it. "Are you alright?" She asked, her own voice full of a worry she couldn’t hide. "Is something wrong?" Eric shook his head, though he knew she could see the truth in his eyes. "Can I come in?" he asked, his voice a soft plea. Delia nodded. "Are you hungry?" she asked, her own voice full of a gentle, wifely concern. "You look tired. Are you sure nothing happe..." He was ignoring all her worried questions. He walked to her bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He removed his shoes, and then, without a word, he laid down, pushing the book aside, resting his head on her lap and wrapping his arms tightly around her waist, holding onto her as if he were afraid she might vanish into thin air. His actions cut her words short. For a moment, she was stiff with surprise. Then, her hand came up, and she hesitated for a fraction of a second before her fingers began to gently smooth the stray strands of dark hair that had escaped his perfectly styled hair. " What is wrong?" She asked. "I am going on a business trip tomorrow," he said, his voice muffled by the blankets. "It is something important, a business deal in the eastern isles, concerning those ledgers I was reviewing the other night. I cannot send Aiden to handle it alone. I need to be there myself with him." His grip on her waist tightened. "But I don’t want to be away from you." Delia continued to stroke his hair, her touch a silent, soothing comfort, treating him like a sad child in need of pacifying. "It’s fine," she said softly. "I understand. Work is important." "I told Mr. Rye to take good care of you," he continued, his voice full of a deep, restless worry. "But if this big house will be too lonely for you while I am away, I can tell him to take you to the main Carson estate tomorrow. You can stay there with my mother and Amber until I get back, and then I will come and take you home." "I will stay here," Delia replied, her voice firm but gentle. "And when you are back, we will go and visit them together." Her words, the simple, solid promise of "we," was a balm to his aching heart. He finally looked up at her, a look of profound gratitude on his face. "Go and clean yourself up," Delia told him softly. "And then get changed. You must be exhausted." He didn’t move. "Can I spend the night here with you?" he asked, his voice a vulnerable whisper. "It will... it will help me, when I am leaving tomorrow morning." She thought about it for a long moment, looking down at her powerful husband who was now looking at her with the pleading eyes of a lost boy. She nodded her head, a silent, simple agreement that meant the world to him.

Chapter 125 - Hundred And Twenty Five

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