Chapter 22 - Twenty Two

Words : 1277 Updated : Sep 17th, 2025

Chapter 22 of "Reborn: The Duke's Obsession" begins with intriguing events: Chapter 22: Chapter Twenty Two"Delia." The voice, calm and deep, echoed from the doorway. Both women,... Don’t miss it!

Chapter 22: Chapter Twenty Two"Delia." The voice, calm and deep, echoed from the doorway. Both women, the abuser and the abused, turned towards the sound. Eric was leaning by the doorframe, the very picture of relaxed authority, his hands tucked casually into his coat pockets. Anne stood just beside him, her eyes red and swollen from the aftermath of crying. She looked from Eric’s commanding profile to Delia’s pale face, and in that moment, she saw the same intense, focused gaze the Duke had given Delia in the garden last night. A final, painful wave of acceptance washed over her; she had truly lost. She lowered her gaze to the floor, a silent admission of defeat. It turned out that when Anne had fled her room, distraught, she had nearly collided with the Duke in the main hall. He had simply looked at her and said, "Show me to Delia’s room." The command was so absolute, she had obeyed without thinking. "Come here," Eric said to Delia, his voice low and firm, but not unkind. Delia couldn’t move. It felt as though her feet were stuck to the floor, rooted by an invisible force. A terrifyingly familiar sensation washed over her, a flashback to her past life when she had been framed for a murder she didn’t commit. That same paralyzing fear, the feeling of being trapped with no way out, gripped her now. She could only stand there, trembling. Eric sighed, a soft sound of impatience not with her, but with the situation. He pushed himself off the doorframe and walked towards her with long, purposeful strides. He walked right past the stunned Augusta as if she weren’t even there. When he reached Delia, he gently brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. His fingers paused as he saw the angry red marks of the slaps on her cheek. His expression hardened for a fraction of a second before softening into one of profound tenderness. He caressed the spot, his touch as light as a feather, careful not to bring her more pain. "I’m sorry I’m late," he whispered, his voice for her ears alone. His hand remained on her cheek, a warm and steady anchor in her swirling world of fear. "Please forgive me." He looked into her wide blue eyes and could see the pent-up tears shimmering there, a dam ready to break. One blink, and everything would come crashing down. Delia was so completely dumbfounded that she didn’t know what to do. Her mind simply could not process what was happening. Someone was here. Someone was standing up for her, touching her with kindness, apologizing for not saving her sooner. This was the first time in her entire life she had ever experienced something like that. Augusta stood frozen where she was, her mind racing. How much did he hear? she thought, a cold dread seeping into her veins. Without another word, Eric took Delia’s wrist to lead her out of the room, but her feet still seemed glued to the floor. She was trapped in her own fear. Seeing this, and without any hesitation, he slid one arm under her knees and the other around her back, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. Delia let out a small, surprised gasp. He held her securely against his chest as he walked past a speechless Augusta. He paused at the door where Anne stood. "Where is your father?" he asked. Anne, looking intimidated, replied in a small voice. "In his room." "Take me to him," Eric commanded. A few minutes later, the scene had shifted to the Baron’s dimly lit bedchamber. The atmosphere was thick with tension. Anne and Augusta sat stiffly on a settee, while Eric stood in the center of the room, still holding Delia, who had yet to say a single word. He gently set her down in a large, comfortable armchair near the Baron’s bed before turning to face the man himself. "Good day, My Lord," Eric said, introducing himself with a polite and deeply respectful bow. "I am Duke Eric Carson, Duke of Elinburgh I believe you know well." Baron Henry, who had been lying back against his pillows, pushed himself up to a sitting position. "Carson?" he asked, his voice weak but his mind sharp. He tried to remember where he had heard that name recently. Then, it struck him, a memory from long ago. "Duke Julian and Her Highness, Duchess Lyra’s, son. You always accompanied your father whenever he came for a visit years ago." Eric nodded, a warm smile touching his lips. "The very same." "You need not be so formal, Your Grace," Henry said, offering a weak but genuine smile in return. "Please." "As you wish," Eric replied. Henry’s gaze moved around the room, taking in the shocked and furious faces of his wife and youngest daughter, and the utterly bewildered expression on Delia’s face, before turning back to Eric. "What brings you to my home, Your Grace?" "I came to ask for your blessing," Eric stated clearly, his voice ringing with purpose. "To marry your daughter." The Baron’s tired face lit up. "Oh, that’s wonderful news," he said, a touch of his old energy returning. "Is it to Anne? I heard she had taken a liking to you." Eric chuckled softly. "Actually, it’s to your other daughter," he clarified, his gaze flicking for a moment to Delia. "I wish to marry Delia." The announcement landed like a rock casted in an ocean. Augusta and Anne’s faces were plastered with identical expressions of disbelief and horror. The Baron himself looked surprised. Before he could reply, Augusta jumped in, unable to contain her outrage. "This doesn’t make any sense!" she exclaimed. "You were set up to be paired with Anne! Our families had an understanding. Now you suddenly want to marry Delia?" Eric turned his calm, unbothered gaze to her. "Thank you for the reminder, Baroness. But while we are speaking of understandings, are you aware that I know you bribed Baroness Dupont to recommend Anne to my mother in the first place?" Augusta’s mouth snapped shut. The color drained from her face. Henry looked at his wife with a deep, disappointed frown before turning his attention back to Eric. The Duke continued, his tone reasonable and direct. "I have never been a fan of arranged marriages. My own parents married for love. I have always wanted that for myself. It is why I have remained unmarried to this day, turning down every proposal sent my way." He then turned his gaze briefly to Anne. "I met with Lady Anne the afternoon of the ball, as was arranged. I told her then that I was not interested in pursuing a marriage with her. That is why I left the ball early and went to the garden—to avoid any further interaction with her." Baron Henry let out a heavy sigh, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. "So you had already turned down Anne?" "Yes," Eric confirmed. "And you want to marry Delia?" the Baron continued, his eyes now on his eldest daughter. Eric’s expression softened as he looked at Delia, who was still trying to process everything that was happening. "More than anything," he said with quiet conviction. "And as soon as possible." The Baron looked at Delia, at her pale face. He saw the way the young Duke looked at her, with a gentleness and determination he had not seen in any man before. He sighed again, this time deeply. "If she will have you, Your Grace," Baron Henry said, his voice firm and final, "then I have no objections."

Chapter 22 - Twenty Two

Comments (0)