Reborn: The Duke's Obsession
Chapter 109 - Hundred And Nine

Chapter 109: Chapter Hundred And Nine

"It’s all right, Father," Eric said, his voice a calm, reassuring presence in the tense dining room. "We are just worried about you."

Delia nodded her head in agreement, her gaze still fixed on her father with a deep, sincere concern. "That’s right, Father. And that is why we came up with a solution to help you. A way to lessen your burdens." She looked at Eric, a silent signal passing between them. "Eric and I discussed it, and we found a way to help."

Henry looked interested, a flicker of his old energy returning to his tired eyes. "You two did?"

Delia nodded. "It is about the Ellington Textile Establishment."

The name of the family business hung in the air. Augusta, who had just been lifting a spoonful of soup to her lips, choked, the rich liquid catching in her throat. She coughed violently into her napkin.

Delia continued as if she hadn’t noticed. "I was thinking that you should give it to me to handle, Father."

Augusta wiped her mouth, her face pale with shock, her voice coming out in a rushed, strangled sound. "W-what? Give you what?"

Anne, who had been sullenly pushing her food around her plate, looked up, her own expression one of pure, utter disbelief.

"But Augusta is already handling the day-to-day affairs," Henry replied, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Yes, Father, I know," Delia said, her tone reasonable and calm. "But the workload is too much for her to handle alone, especially with you being so unwell. I can be in charge of the dye sections. I have a great deal of experience there. She can continue to take care of the textile aspects of the business."

Anne slammed her spoon down on the table, the sharp clatter making everyone flinch. It was the first sound she had made the whole day. "In that case," she interrupted, her voice sharp and full of a renewed fire, "the establishment should obviously go to me. It is mine by right. Why would you suddenly go after it now, Delia?"

"Well, Anne," Henry said with a weary sigh. "It is really quite obvious why."

"Papa?" Anne asked, her voice a wounded cry.

"The Ellington textile business used to be the pride of our family," Henry explained, his voice full of a deep, old sadness. "Before your grandfather, my father, destroyed its reputation with his... mistakes." He looked at Anne, his gaze now stern. "Do you truly believe you have done anything to deserve to be its owner?"

Anne was speechless for a moment, stunned by her father’s direct challenge. "Well," she stammered, recovering herself, "of course I do! Dealing with textiles and fashion is what Mama is good at, and what she has taught me. And you started reforming the establishment in the first place for me to take over, right?" She looked at her father, her expression now pleading. "And Papa, you have seen what I can do. In terms of referrals, I have brought a lot of young ladies from high society to our doors through my own good fashion sense and my style. My friends are our best customers. It has been making the establishment huge sales. I..."

A short, sharp laugh from Delia cut her off. It was not a loud sound, but it was so full of mockery that it silenced the entire table. Everyone stared at her.

Delia looked at Anne, a cool, unimpressed expression on her face. "Pardon my rudeness," she said, her voice dripping with a politeness that was more insulting than any shout. "Please, do continue."

Anne glared at her, her face flushing a deep, angry red.

Delia relaxed back in her seat, a picture of calm confidence. "Do you even have any proof," she asked, crossing her arms, "that your so-called ’exquisite fashion sense’ has actually brought any kind of huge sale to the establishment? Or is that just what you like to tell yourself?"

"What do you mean by that?" Anne demanded, her voice rising.

Before the argument could escalate, Eric turned to Henry, his own voice a calm and logical counterpoint to the rising emotions. "Father," he said, addressing the Baron with respect. "I think Delia should be allowed to do what she believes is best for the establishment. I have seen what she’s capable of and I trust her judgment. And from my own end, my dye industry is ready and willing to partner with whatever Delia does." He paused, letting the weight of his offer sink in. "With that kind of collaboration, I am sure the reformation that you seek for the Ellington textile business will be massive. We can restore its reputation, and I guarantee you, its profits will exceed anything you have seen before."

Henry nodded his head slowly, a wide, hopeful smile spreading across his face. He could see it clearly: his daughter, accomplishing his own dream, together with her powerful, capable husband. It was the perfect solution.

Augusta saw the look on her husband’s face and knew she was losing. "My dear," she said, turning to Henry, her voice a desperate, pleading purr. "You won’t really listen to them, will you? This is madness."

She then turned to Delia, her eyes full of scorn. "And you, Delia. Just because you can make a few simple dyes in a back room and can tell the difference between silk and satin, it doesn’t mean you can..."

"Simple dyes?" Delia interrupted, her voice dangerously quiet. "No, Baroness. I don’t think that is the right term for them at all."

Augusta was surprised by Delia’s open defiance. "What?" she asked.

Delia turned to her husband. "My love," she said, her voice now warm and affectionate. "Can you please give me the pamphlet that was delivered to our residence this morning?"

Eric reached inside his coat pocket and brought it out, handing it to her. "Of course, my Duchess," he said with a loving smile.

Augusta watched them, her mind racing. What pamphlet are they talking about? She thought to herself, a knot of suspicion tightening in her stomach. And why didn’t those useless paper boys deliver one to me this morning?