Reborn: The Duke's Obsession
Chapter 84 - Eighty Four

Chapter 84: Chapter Eighty Four

The air in Eric’s study was stale and stuffy. For two days, he had buried himself there, a self-imposed exile from his own residence, from Delia. He was checking the ledgers of the last major shipment they had completed, his eyes scanning the numbers without really seeing them. His mind was elsewhere, stuck in that quiet kitchen, replaying her words over and over again. "I won’t be here for long, anyway."

A knock came on the door, but Eric didn’t look up from the meaningless columns of figures. "Come in," he said, his voice flat.

Aiden walked in, a stack of fresh documents in his hand. He looked at his master, at the tired slump of his shoulders and the tired look of his eyes.

"Your Grace," Aiden began, his voice full of a concern that went beyond that of a mere aide. "You have been here for two full days now. Working yourself to death. Why don’t you go home and get some proper rest? I will take care of the rest of the work here."

"I’m not needed there," Eric replied, his voice a low murmur as he continued to stare at the ledger. "She doesn’t need me."

The words were so full of a quiet, deep hurt that Aiden felt bold enough to press further. "Did you two have a fight, Your Grace?"

Eric finally looked up, a short, bitter chuckle escaping his lips. "I wish we did," he said, his eyes looking tired and sad. "I wish she had shouted at me, or I had shouted at her. At least then, I could give a name to this anger and this hurt that I am feeling."

"But Your Grace..." Aiden tried to talk to him, to offer some comfort.

But Eric had already retreated back behind his wall of work. "After my wedding," he said as he stared down at the ledger, his voice now all business again, "I will be the one to handle all the international shipments myself. So you can take care of things here, as usual." He was already planning to be away, to be busy, to not be home.

Aiden sighed, knowing he couldn’t get through to him like this. He played his final card. "The lady sent a letter, Your Grace. She..."

As he spoke, he pulled a simple, folded envelope from his inner coat pocket. The scent of lavender, faint but unmistakable, immediately filled the air.

The scent hit Eric like a splash of cold water. He looked up, his eyes widening. He closed the heavy ledger with a loud thud and, in a single, quick motion, snatched the letter from Aiden’s hand before he could even complete his sentence.

He waved his other hand in a sharp gesture of dismissal. "You may go."

Aiden bowed. As he walked to the door, he opened it and peaked back a little, just in time to see the great Duke Eric Carson, a man feared in business and respected in society, bring the simple envelope to his face and inhale the faint lavender scent, a look of pure, unadulterated happiness washing over his tired features. Aiden smiled to himself and closed the door softly.

Eric carefully broke the wax seal and opened the letter. Inside, there was only one sentence, written in Delia’s neat, elegant hand.

Could you please come home?

It was short. It was simple. But for Eric, it was enough. It was everything. _{f|ree(w)ebn\o.vel.com}

He stood up, all traces of his earlier weariness gone, replaced by a surge of vibrant, joyful energy. He wore his gloves, grabbed his coat, and left the study, his heart pounding with a new, hopeful rhythm.

"Aiden! Aiden!" he called out, his voice now happy and full of life.

Aiden came rushing out of his own study. "Yes, Your Grace?"

"I’m going home," Eric announced, a wide, boyish grin on his face. He looked happier than Aiden had seen him in years. "Can you take over here for the rest of the day?" He leaned in, his voice full of joy. "My Duchess needs me. She said it herself, in her letter."

Aiden smiled, a genuine, happy expression. "Of course, Your Grace. It would be my pleasure."

"And Aiden," Eric added as he was heading for the door. "After today’s production run is finished, give all the workers a little something extra. A bonus. From me."

"As you wish, Your Grace," Aiden replied, shaking his head in amused wonder at his master’s sudden, complete transformation.

———-

Delia sat at the writing desk in her room, a leather-bound diary open before her. The house was quiet, empty without Eric’s presence. She dipped her quill pen in the inkwell, the only sound the soft scratch and scribble of the nib on the surface of the paper. She was trying to make sense of her own thoughts, to document the strange and confusing turn her life had taken.

She remembered what the palm reader had told her the day before, after the Dowager Duchess had stormed out of the room in a state of flustered anger. The old woman had taken her hand again, her dark eyes looking not at her palm, but deep into her soul.

"I don’t know what you did in your past life that a second chance was bestowed upon you," the woman had whispered, her voice full of a strange wisdom. "And I don’t know what you plan to do with it, either. But you must know that you have limited time. I can see the dying petals on your wrist, even if others cannot. Use this time you have been given wisely."

The memory made Delia pause in her writing. She looked at her wrist, at the faint tattoo that was her constant companion, her secret clock.

"Your heart," the palm reader had continued, "is full of burgeoning grudges, which you have come back to settle. Or perhaps you are already settling the scores. But in all of that, my child, do not deprive yourself of happiness. Your soul will catch up with you soon, and when it does, I do not know if it will be a good thing or a bad thing. But until then, you must live like there is no other life after this one. Be happy."

Delia wrote down the last sentence she wanted to document and then closed the heavy book. She opened a piece of paper someone left at the entrance door this morning. She read it then looked at her wrist again, at the tattoo. " Be happy". It sounded so simple, and yet it felt like the most complicated thing in the world.

"Delia!"

Eric’s voice, loud and full of a happiness she hadn’t heard since before their fight, came from downstairs. Her own heart gave a surprised leap. He was home.

"I’m coming!" she called out, a smile touching her own lips before she could stop it.