Reborn: The Duke’s Obsession

"Shall we have a proper toast, then?" Amber asked, a bright, cheerful smile on her face as she raised her wine glass.

Delia nodded, a genuine smile lighting up her own face, and the delicate sound of glasses clinking filled the dining room.

They started eating again, the mood light and comfortable. The earlier banter had settled into a pleasant silence as they enjoyed the delicious food Eric had prepared.

A moment later, Eric reached over and, with a smooth, deliberate motion, pulled Delia's chair closer to his own. The chair leg scraped softly against the marble floor. The movement was so unexpected that everyone at the table paused, their forks hovering mid-air. Amber raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips.

Aiden's eyes widened for a second before he quickly looked down at his plate. Even Delia looked at her husband with surprise written all over her face.

Eric acted as if nothing had happened. He picked up his fork and calmly continued eating, his expression perfectly serious, as though moving his wife closer to him in the middle of dinner was the most normal thing in the world.

After a while, as the conversation started to flow again, Delia felt a gentle weight on her thigh. She froze for a second. It was Eric's hand, resting there under the cover of the tablecloth. At first, it was just a simple placement, a quiet claim. But then, his thumb began to move in a slow, soft caress, a secret message of affection just for her. Delia turned to look at him, her cheeks warming. He met her gaze for only a second, his expression still completely serious, before turning back to a comment Aiden was making. The contrast between his public composure and his private touch sent a shiver of warmth through her.

When their meal was finally done and the plates were cleared, Amber leaned back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. "We are finally out of wine," she announced to the room.

"I'll go get some," Delia said immediately, grateful for the chance to move, to escape the intoxicating feeling of Eric's hand on her leg and cool her flushed cheeks. She stood up and made her way toward the hallway that led to the cellar. Just as she left the room, Eric quietly pushed his chair back and stood up as well, following her without a word.

As they got to the cool, dark cellar, they were surrounded by earthly smell. Bottles rested in wooden racks that lined the stone walls. As Delia's eyes adjusted to the low light, Eric walked past her to a section of reds. He picked up a bottle, examining the label.

"Having them over is too crazy, right?" he asked, his voice a low rumble in the quiet space.

Delia smiled. "They are trying to cheer us up," she replied softly. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his strong back. The fabric of his shirt was warm. "Thanks to them, I'm smiling. Really smiling."

Eric stilled for a moment, then turned around in her embrace, his hands coming to rest on her arms. He looked down at her, his gaze thoughtful. "You seem a bit different tonight."

"How so?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

He tilted his head, considering his words. "How do I say this?" He looked directly into her eyes. "You seem more at ease. Lighter."

A soft, genuine smile spread across Delia's face. They left the cellar and walked slowly down the hallway, the bottle of wine now in her hand. "I was thinking about it earlier," she said, her voice reflective. "I remembered the old me. The one who was wrapped up in nothing but directionless anger. It reminded me of myself before I met you."

She slid her hand from his back to his arm, her fingers curling around his bicep. They stopped walking and just looked at each other, their eyes locking in the dimly lit hall. A slow, gentle smile grew on Eric's face.

Delia continued. "I'm not going to live like that anymore. I won't let anger be the only thing that drives me. Because now, I have you. And I have my family."

Eric gently removed her hand from his arm, but only to intertwine her fingers with his. With his other hand, he took the bottle of wine from her. He lifted their joined hands to his lips and pressed a soft, lingering kiss on her knuckles. "Right," he said, his voice deep and sincere. "Let's make sure to be very happy."

Delia nodded.

They went back to the drawing room, their hands still linked. When they opened the door, they were met with a scene they did not expect.

Amber was sitting forward in her chair, a large, heavy ledger spread open on her lap. She was flipping through the pages with a determined look on her face, her mouth was moving. Beside her, Aiden, a quill in his hand, was writing furiously on a fresh sheet of parchment trying to keep up with what she was saying. And leaning between them, little Owen was pointing a small, careful finger at a line in the ledger, saying something to them both.

"…Baron Edgar's reputation was questionable, which led to his son, Baron Henry, taking over suddenly," Owen was saying, his little finger tracing a family line in the book. "But that caused problems because of Henry's poor health condition. It created a power vacuum."

Aiden looked up from his notes, his quill paused. "What if Baroness Augusta is the actual culprit behind his worsening health? What if she's been manipulating the situation all along?"

Amber flipped another page in the ledger. "Of course she is," she replied without hesitation. "That's why she's in such a hurry to get the advisors and the public on her side now. She needs to secure her position before her plan turns sour."

Owen spoke up, his voice clear and serious, a stark contrast to his small frame. "Well, you will need some emotional appeal for the advisors, too. Not just facts. They need to feel that siding with Lady Delia is the right thing to do."

Aiden looked at Owen with genuine surprise and admiration. "Wow," he said. "You're so smart for a twelve-year-old boy."

Owen puffed out his chest just a little, a proud smile on his face. "I get that a lot."

It was at that moment that Eric and Delia stepped fully into the room. "What are you three doing?" Eric asked, his voice cutting through their intense discussion.

They all looked up, slightly startled.

"What is going on?" Delia asked, her eyes wide with confusion. "Amber, what is that in your hand?"

Owen answered first. "It's the Ellington Textiles ledger, Your Grace. It shows all the shareholders and council members. Lady Amber brought it."

Delia's gaze snapped to Amber. "How did you get that?"

Amber just gave her a mysterious smile.

"Mr. Aiden is making a draft of the letter to be sent to all of the minor advisors," Owen continued his report. "The one with low authority."

Aiden held up the parchment. "The people with more power, the senior council members, you should meet them personally. Here is the list, ranked by influence and their known loyalties." He stretched his hand out to Delia, offering her the paper.

She took it, her fingers trembling slightly. She looked at the list, then at everyone, at these three incredible people who were working so hard, all for her.

"Thank you, everyone," she said, her voice soft. "I haven't done anything for you, and you've all done so…"

"Stop being so serious, Delia," Amber cut her off gently. "It's nothing. Family should help each other out. That's what we do."

Aiden raised his hand with a grin. "Excuse me, I'm still an employee. This will be billed accordingly." He turned to Eric. " Right, Your Grace?"

Owen raised his tiny hand as well, mirroring Aiden. "And I'm her friend. Does that count?"

Everyone laughed, the serious tension of the last few minutes breaking and dissolving into the warmth that had filled the house all evening.