Reborn: The Duke’s Obsession

The grand Carson carriage, looking more like a stately war chariot than a vehicle for a social call, stopped with a smooth, silent precision in front of the Ellington courtyard. The driver reined in the horses as they came to a stop.

The footman opened the carriage door and Duchess Lyra stepped out, adjusting her fine silk gloves and the elegant, severe-looking hat that sat upon her head. She was followed by the Captain of the Royal Palace Guards, his uniform crisp and his expression grim, and the head of the Carson legal team, a man whose face was as sharp and as serious as his employer, along with his subordinate. This was not a visit; it was an official delegation.

Delia, who had ridden with them, was the last to emerge. She put on her silk gloves, adjusted her hat and smoothed her skirt as Lyra led them all, a small, powerful army, towards the front door of the house Delia had once been so desperate to escape.

The door was opened by a nervous-looking butler, who bowed low at the sight of the formidable group.

"Welcome, Your Grace." He greeted.

" Where is the master of this house?" Lyra asked, her voice carrying an undeniable authority.

The butler replied, his voice shaky from being intimidated by Lyra's presence. " He's in his room."

" Lead the way." She said.

The butler chuckled nervously. "Of course, Your Grace. Please follow me." He gestured with his hands as he bowed.

They were escorted in, their footsteps echoing in the quiet, tense hall. Lyra and Delia walked in majestically, side-by-side, a picture of unified, unassailable power. They went straight to Baron Henry's room.

The moment Delia saw her father, her heart broke a little. She had been so consumed with her own plans, with her revenge and her new life, that she had not had the time to visit him.

The change in him was shocking. He looked smaller, frailer, his skin the color of pale, faded parchment. He was looking more sickly than he did in her past life." I have to get him out of this house", she thought to herself, a fierce, protective resolve hardening in her heart.

Henry, who was propped up in his bed, tried to sit up straighter, his voice trembling with the effort. "Your Grace," he said, his greeting a weak, breathless sound. "It is a great pleasure to have you in my humble home. I was just informed of your visit. You are most welcome."

Lyra replied with a small, sad smile, her anger at the family momentarily softened by the sight of the sick man. "It is a pleasure to be here, my lord."

Anne and Augusta were already seated on a settee in the corner of the room, their expressions a mixture of fear and defiance. Lyra shot them a harsh, dismissive glance before taking a seat in the armchair that had been prepared for her, with Delia sitting in a chair right by her side, a clear and public display of her allegiance.

"My lord," Lyra began, her voice now cool and business-like. "I am sure you are not aware of the recent happenings in the city."

She opened her elegant reticule and brought out three of the cheap, flimsy gossip pamphlets that were circulating all over Albion. She gave them to Henry.

Henry's brow furrowed in confusion as he took the papers. His hands shook as he read the first ugly headline: EXPOSING DUCHESS DELIA'S MESSY PRIVATE LIFE. His eyes scanned the cruel words, the lies about her being a social climber, the story of her shoving his ex fiancé mother to the ground. Then he read the second pamphlet, the one that had been released just the some days ago after the first one, the one with an even more vicious, life-ruining lie. He saw the words: SECRET PREGNANCY AND A BASTARD CHILD? and below it, an even more horrific insinuation: THE TRAGIC TALE OF A BABY KILLER.

He couldn't believe what he was reading. His face, which had been pale with sickness, now turned a deep, furious red. He couldn't bring himself to read the third pamphlet.

"Who?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous growl that Delia had not heard in years. "Who dares to slander my daughter, my Delia, in such a vile and disgusting way?"

Lyra did not say a word. She simply turned her head and looked, with a pointed, damning stare, at Anne, who immediately bowed her head, her gaze fixed on the floor, unable to meet the Duchess's accusing eyes.

Seeing this, Henry knew immediately who was behind it all.

"You must understand, my lord," Lyra said, her voice now that of a powerful Duchess defending the honor of her house, "that Delia is now a part of the Carson family. She's my daughter. The fact that the daughter of the Ellington family has slandered her in such a public and malicious way… should we be forced to assume that this is a slander against the entire Carson family as a whole?"

The room was completely silent. The weight of her question, the threat of a full-blown war between one of the kingdom's most prominent families and a much lesser known family, was a heavy, suffocating presence.

Anne, her voice a small, trembling whisper, finally spoke, directing her words to Lyra. "Mother," she began, "I… I did not do it."

"I have told you so many times not to call me that," Lyra replied, her voice filled with a cold, sharp irritation. "Please, do not repeat it again. The sound of that word, coming from you, is deeply unpleasant to me."

Anne swallowed her words, her face now ashen.

Lyra continued, her gaze now sweeping over both Anne and the silent Augusta. "Anyway, regardless of your denials, we will be taking formal legal action. A complaint has already been filed with the criminal and justice division."

She looked at Augusta, who remained completely quiet, her face a pale, unreadable mask. "Your daughter will have to face the legal consequences of her actions, will she not?"