Reborn: The Duke’s Obsession

The room was small and airless, with the lingering smell of damp wood and boiled cabbage from a neighboring house. A single, grimy window looked out onto a muddy alley where stray cats fought over scraps. The plaster on the walls was cracked and peeling, and the floorboards groaned with every step. This was George's world now. A new reality away from the polished halls and manicured gardens he once called home.

He sat on the edge of his bed, which was little more than a thin mattress on a rickety wooden frame. The blanket was threadbare, offering little comfort. In order to honor the deal they had struck, Eric had been merciful and had spared his sister and him from going to prison. Eric had only stripped him of his title and acquired his lands as compensation. It was a mercy, they called it. But living like this, as a commoner in the shabbiest part of the kingdom, felt like its own kind of prison.

In his hands, George held a pamphlet, the same one that was being passed around the entire city. The paper was cheap and flimsy, but the printed words carried the weight of a world he was no longer a part of. He had already read the first part, the carefully crafted story of Anne's attempt at reconciliation. He had skimmed past Augusta's bold statements about the future of Ellington Textiles. His eyes were fixed on a small column of text near the bottom of the page, a section dedicated to society gossip. His finger traced the words as he read them for the tenth time.

"…Lady Anne, who has been keeping a low profile of late, is said to have found a new happiness. And in the most surprising social turn of the season, she is now rumored to be seen in the constant company of the esteemed Duke Philip of Kaulder. Sources say the two have been spending a great deal of time together, and a match seems likely and other sources close to the Carson family say the two are courting, a new and powerful alliance forming in the heart of the aristocracy…"

George let the pamphlet fall from his fingers. It fluttered onto the thin blanket, the words now meaningless. He leaned back, his head hitting the stained wall with a soft thud. He stared up at the water stained ceiling, tracing the network of cracks that spread like a spider's web above him. A long, sad sigh escaped his lips, a sound of pure defeat. It was over. All of it.

Suddenly, a loud crash came from the adjacent room, his sister Evelin's room. It was followed by a muffled scream of frustration and the sound of something being thrown against a wall. George closed his eyes for a moment. He was so tired. He didn't have the energy for one of her fits. But the commotion continued. The sound of stomping feet, another thud, and what sounded like ripping paper.

With a heavy groan, he pushed himself off the bed. His joints ached. He felt like an old man. He walked across the creaking floorboards and pushed open the door to his sister's room.

The scene was one of contained chaos. Evelin's small room, a mirror of his own, was in disarray. Her thin blanket was thrown on the floor, her single pillow was being stomped on by her foot, and scattered all around her were the torn, shredded pieces of another copy of the pamphlet.

Evelin stood in the middle of the room, her face red and blotchy, her hair a wild mess. Her fists were clenched at her sides, and her chest was heaving with angry, ragged breaths. She looked like a cornered animal, full of rage and despair.

"Evelin, stop it," George said, his voice flat and weary. There was no anger in it, only exhaustion.

His voice broke her trance. She spun around to face him, her eyes blazing with furious tears. "Stop it?" she shrieked, her voice cracking. "You want me to stop it? Did you read it, George? Did you see what she has done?"

"I saw it," he said quietly.

"It's not fair!" Evelin cried, kicking at a piece of the torn pamphlet on the floor. "It's not fair! What else could I do? What else am I supposed to do?" She started pacing the small room, her movements frantic. "Anne came to me! She begged me! She said Delia stole the man she was going to marry! She said Delia hurt you, and she wanted revenge for both of us! She asked me to help her, and I did! I did everything she asked!"

Her voice grew louder with each word. "I helped her ruin Delia's reputation! I spread the rumors she wanted me to spread! I made myself an enemy of the Duke's family, all for her! For our revenge!" She stopped and pointed a trembling finger at the scraps of paper on the floor. "And now this! She's courting his own brother? Duke Philip Carson! How can she do that? Why? Why did she pursue revenge against a family if she knew she would still cling to his brother? How can a person be so cruel? So selfish?"

George just watched her, his heart aching for her. He saw not just her anger, but the deep, painful confusion beneath it. She had thrown her own future away for a cause that turned out to be a lie.

Evelin's energy finally gave out. Her rage collapsed into gut-wrenching sobs. She stumbled over to her bed and crashed onto the bare mattress, burying her face in her arms. Her shoulders shook violently as she cried, the sounds muffled and full of pain.

George walked slowly into the room and sat on the edge of the bed beside her. He didn't touch her at first, just sat there. The only sounds were her ragged sobs and the distant noise of the city outside their window.

After a few minutes, her crying began to subside into quiet, hitching breaths. He finally reached out and placed a hand on her back, rubbing it gently. He felt a flicker of something other than his own self-pity. He felt sorry for her. They were just two foolish, disposable pawns, used and then discarded by Anne the moment they were no longer of any use to her.