Reborn: The Duke's Obsession
Chapter 104 - Hundred And Four

Chapter 104: Chapter Hundred And Four

It was morning. The harsh light of a new day streamed through the single, grimy window of the small inn room, illuminating the chaos within. A man’s formal coat was thrown carelessly on top a small table, a shirt was tossed over a chair, a woman’s silk gown was a puddle of lavender on the floor, and the bedsheets were a tangled, rumpled mess.

Knock...

Knock..

Knock.

A series of sharp knocks came on the door. "It is past the hour of nine, my lord. It is time for you to leave, please," a voice called from the outside.

The sound from the knock finally woke him up. George’s eyes opened slowly, blinking against the bright, unforgiving light. For a moment, he was disoriented. Then, he looked to his side. The space beside him on the lumpy mattress was empty. " Where’s she?" He asked himself, his voice a low whisper.

"Anne?" he said in a soft, hopeful whisper.

The door to the small bathing area opened, and Anne came out, a cloud of steam following her. She was dressed only in her delicate chemise, her long brown hair damp and clinging to her shoulders. She looked at the main door and called out, her voice clear and steady. "We will be out in a moment. Thank you."

George could hear the footsteps of the innkeeper retreating down the hallway. He looked around the messy room, his memory of the previous night flooding back in a warm, pleasant rush. After their passionate, desperate kiss behind the carriage, he had paid for a night at this quiet, out-of-the-way inn. They had, in the heat of the moment, graced each other’s bed. He looked at Anne, who was now standing in front of a small, cracked mirror, drying her hair with a rough towel. A happy, lovesick smile spread across his face.

"How was your night?" he asked, his voice full of a new, hopeful intimacy.

She replied sharply, without turning to look at him. "It was okay."

She picked up his wrinkled white shirt from the back of the chair and tossed it onto the bed, in his direction. She then sat down at the small table to begin the long process of dressing her hair. "Have your bath and wear your clothes so we can leave, it’s already late," she said curtly. Her tone was not that of a lover, but of a general giving orders to a soldier.

The happiness fell right off George’s face, replaced by a look of hurt confusion. "Okay," he replied, his voice small. He gathered his things and went to take his bath.

He took her to a small, respectable establishment nearby to eat breakfast. As she ate, her gaze was fixed firmly on the plate of toast and eggs in front of her, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, avoiding his gaze.

"Why did you go to that tavern last night?" he asked, his voice full of a gentle, worried concern. "Didn’t you know it’s dangerous for a lady like you?" He lowered his voice. "What if someone had seen you there? What if that man had hurt you? What if I wasn’t there?"

"That was why I was wearing a cloak so that no one recognizes me," Anne replied, answering the first question without looking at him, her face still down as she cut into her food, avoiding the other two questions.

"Does your mother know you were out so late?" George asked.

"No," she replied, her answer short and clipped.

"Please, Anne," he said, his voice pleading. "Don’t do such reckless things again. I was so worried."

She was silent, continuing to eat her breakfast.

Wanting to change the subject to something more pleasant, to the new reality of them, he asked, "So... are you okay?"

"About what?" she asked, her tone bored.

"Well..." he began, a hopeful smile returning to his face. "About us. With what happened last night, I couldn’t help but think about something."

"Which is?" She asked, her voice muffled from eating.

"If we start... you know... courting, officially. Our parents will be so confused, Anne. Is that okay with you?" He finished.

The word ’courting’ seemed to shock her out of her stupor. She choked on a piece of bread, coughing into her napkin. "What?" This time, she looked up, her eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

George, mistaking her shock for maidenly surprise, continued, his own face flushing with happiness. "I know it will be difficult to explain, but I am sure we can make them understand. I will talk to my mother, and you can talk to the Baroness, and—"

Anne started to laugh, a loud, genuine laugh of pure, unadulterated amusement at his foolishness. "Oh, George," she said, shaking her head. "I am very thirsty. Can I get a glass of water?" She picked up the empty glass from the table and handed it to him.

"Of course, my lady," George said, immediately looking around for a server.

"No," Anne stopped him, her voice now cool and commanding. "I want you to get it for me. Yourself."

George’s face lit up with a simple, dog-like devotion. He was being given a task, a way to please her. He smiled. "Of course, Anne. Right away." He stood up and went to the counter to do as he was told.

As she watched him go, the amused smile on Anne’s face curdled into a look of pure, utter contempt. "Fool," she sneered under her breath. "You think one night with you has won my heart? I blame myself for getting carried away, for letting my intoxicated self make such a mistake."

Her eyes scanned the small room and landed on a discarded pamphlet lying on an empty table nearby. Curious, she reached over and snatched it. She unfolded the paper and read the headline, her expression immediately turning sharp and interested.

CARSON TEXTILE ESTABLISHMENT SPRING LINE PROJECT ON THIN ICE? NEW OFFICIALS FINDS SOMETHING DISTURBING.