Reborn: The Duke’s Obsession

Philip looked at his younger brother, who was sitting quietly, his fingers drumming a soft, steady rhythm on the polished table. Philip smirked, a look of pure, confident victory on his face. He had his brother right where he wanted him: on the defensive, in front of the entire advisory council.

"I find it deeply problematic," Philip continued, his voice full of a false, grave concern, "that these terrible rumors are attached to the wife of someone who might hold an important position in this company in the very near future. Are you able to explain this situation to the council, brother?"

The direct, public challenge hung in the tense air. Just as Eric was about to respond, a sharp knock sounded on the heavy, oak door of the council room.

"I have a package and a letter for His Grace, Duke Eric," a voice came from the other side of the door.

Lord Hawthorne, the head of the council, looked at Eric with a questioning expression. Eric simply gave a slight, calm nod. "Enter," Lord Hawthorne replied.

A young clerk from Eric's own company came in, his face a little flushed from the urgency of his task. He walked directly to Eric, gave him the small parcel and the sealed letter, bowed his head respectfully to the assembled lords, and then quickly left.

Everyone at the table, including Philip, looked on with a mixture of confusion and curiosity at this strange, unexpected interruption.

Eric saw the sender: Delia Carson and calmly broke the seal on the letter, his eyes scanning the contents. As he read, a slow, knowing smile began to spread across his face. He then opened the parcel. Inside was a thick stack of freshly printed pamphlets.

Eric raised one of the pamphlets for the entire council to see. "Well, Lord Hawthorne," he began, his gaze then shifting to his brother, a mocking, triumphant light in his own eyes. "The 'public opinion' that my dear brother was so concerned about?" He shook his head. "It appears it has just changed."

"What?" Philip replied, his own smug smile faltering. "How is that possible?"

"A new pamphlet was just printed and is, as we speak, being distributed all across the city and the kingdom," Eric explained.

He began to read from the paper in his hand, his voice clear and strong. "'About the Royal Colors Dye Establishment's Owner, Duke Eric Carson of Elinburgh's wife, Duchess Delia Carson: This Is The Truth.' That is the title of the full, signed confession that my wife's ex-fiancé, Lord George Pembroke, released to the public this very morning."

He took several more pamphlets from the parcel and began to share them among the stunned council members. Everyone, now with their own copy, began to read it, their expressions shifting from confusion to shock. Philip looked around the table, seeing everyone completely engrossed in the pamphlet. Small, nervous beads of sweat started to form on his own forehead. His carefully laid plan was crumbling before his very eyes.

Eric continued his explanation, his voice a calm, realistic report. "As you will see in his own words, the entire reason my wife canceled her engagement in the first place was because she found out that Lord George was in love with her younger sister." He looked directly at Philip, whose own expression was now one of growing, barely concealed unease. "Per that younger sister's request, Lord George's family then wrote and distributed the false gossip that you were all so concerned about. They created a public scandal, deliberately slandering my wife to ruin her reputation."

He continued, his evidence now piling up, undeniable and absolute. "As further proof, Lord George has provided the official receipts for the expensive dresses my wife's younger sister used to bribe his own sister into helping her with this scheme. And there are multiple, sworn eyewitnesses who saw Lord George and my wife's younger sister conversing in secret, not once, not twice, but repeatedly, in the days leading up to the scandal."

Philip closed his eyes, a low groan of frustration escaping his lips. Anne's carelessness, her foolish, clumsy attempts at bribery, had completely destroyed his plan. He hung his head low, defeated.

"What kind of a woman does that to her own sister?" Lord Everton, one of the older advisors, asked, his voice full of a shocked disgust.

"And who is this terrible younger sister?" another advisor asked.

Philip opened his eyes hearing this and looked up, just in time to see his brother looking back at him with a cold, triumphant smile.

"Gosh, my goodness, that is the most interesting part," Eric said, his voice full of a feigned, dramatic surprise. "Her name is Lady Anne Ellington. And she just so happens to be the new fiancée of someone who is very important to this company. Our very own acting president, Duke Philip Carson."

The name, and the connection, dropped into the room with the force of a physical blow. Philip felt as if the air was being squeezed from his lungs. He loosened his cravat a little, trying to breathe, because the way the tables had been so completely and utterly turned against him was suffocating him.

Murmurs started flying around the table, no longer hushed whispers, but loud, shocked exclamations. Philip couldn't count how many times he heard his own name, now linked to this new, even more disgusting scandal.

Eric continued, his gaze still holding his brother's. "How will you clear up this new negative publicity, Mr. Acting President?" he asked, using the very same condescending words Philip had used on him just moments ago.

Philip looked at him with a burning, impotent anger. Lord Hawthorne and the rest of the now-hostile council looked at Philip, all of them waiting for his response.

Eric then let out a dismissive sigh. "Actually," he said, "I don't really want to know. I have much more important questions that need answers than to think about mere public opinion."

Philip looked at him, a sense of dread washing over him.