Reborn: The Duke's Obsession
Chapter 87 - Eighty Seven

Chapter 87: Chapter Eighty Seven

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, and the moon, a pale, lonely crescent, now hung high in the dark, cloudless sky. Eric stood by the window of the drawing room, watching the gate, waiting. He kept waiting. The small showers of rain that fell for like a minute brought a chill in the night air that was palpable, seeping through the glass, but he didn’t notice it. He pulled his gold pocket watch from his vest for what must have been the twentieth time. The hands pointed to a late hour.

"She should be home by now, shouldn’t she?" he said to the empty room.

He had spent the remainder of the day trying to work, trying to focus on contracts and shipments, but his mind kept drifting back to her. The memory of her shy, beautiful smile as she looked at him when she came down the stairs earlier that day. He had given her space, respecting her need to know what she wanted, but now, the space was beginning to feel like a cold, empty void.

With a sigh, he walked towards his room. As he passed down the quiet, dimly lit hallway, he saw that the door to Delia’s room was slightly ajar. He stopped, a frown creasing his brow. He wanted to help her close it, to ensure her privacy, but something caught his eye from within. A strange, shimmering color on her writing table.

He hesitated for only a moment before he slowly, quietly, pushed the door open and stepped inside. This was the first time he had ever entered her room since she had moved in. A faint, intoxicating scent of lavender immediately enveloped him. It was her scent, and he felt a strange sense of both intrusion and comfort, as if he were stepping into a part of her very soul.

His eyes went to the source of the shimmer. On her writing table, next to a neat stack of books, was a small glass container containing a dye with a color he couldn’t quite put a finger on. It was a soft, ethereal lavender, but it seemed to shimmer with hints of silver in the lamplight and at different shades. It wasn’t perfect but it was beautiful. Beside it was a small note written in her elegant hand: "Have to redo. Mordant ratio is still off."

Eric chuckled softly as he dropped the note back on the table. Even in her personal projects, she was a perfectionist.

His senses were still filled with the faint scent of lavender in the room. It was everywhere—on the simple robe hanging on the back of a chair, on the pillow of her neatly made bed. His eyes then went to her vanity table. He saw the dark blue ribbon he had given her, the one from his cabin study, resting beside a very sparse collection of ornaments. A single silver-backed brush, a small bottle of lavender water, and not much else.

"I will have to buy more ornaments for her," he thought to himself, a warm, protective feeling spreading in his chest.

He felt a pang of guilt for leaving her here all alone for two days. He saw some books on her writing table; several were bookmarked, showing signs of being read and loved. He picked one up. It was a book of poetry.

Then he saw it. A simple, leather-bound book, tucked slightly under a stack of papers. It was her diary. He knew he shouldn’t touch it. He knew it was her most private space, a violation he had no right to commit. But his curiosity, his desperate need to understand the complex, guarded woman he was to marry, got the better of him. With a feeling of both guilt and anticipation, he took the book and opened it.

The first page he turned to made him smile. Her neat script filled the page.

"Lady Tremaine says that Amber told her my eyes sparkle like sapphires. I have never thought of my own eyes in such a way. Amber is a good and kind person. I think... I think I am beginning to understand what it feels like to have a real sister."

He chuckled softly, his heart warming at the thought of the two of them becoming friends. He turned to another page, one from after the family introduction at the orphanage.

"I saw the Dowager Duchess today, and she smiled at me. And the Duchess Lyra, my mother-in-law-to-be, she defended me. She stood up for me. My mother is truly a blessing. I love her and Grandmother, too. I finally have a family that feels like a family."

He closed his eyes for a moment, a feeling of deep, profound happiness washing over him. She was happy here. She felt safe. She felt loved.

He turned to another page, one dated to weeks ago even before she met him. As he began to read, the smile on his face vanished. He felt dizzy, and his breathing came out in short, sharp gasps.

He quickly closed the book, his hands trembling. He dropped it back on the table as if it had burned him. The pain in those words, the raw, devastating betrayal she had suffered... it was too much. He stumbled out of her room, closing the door behind him, and went to the drawing room, his heart pounding in his chest. He poured himself a glass of water, his hand shaking so badly that some of it sloshed over the side.

Just as he was trying to steady his heart, Mr. Rye entered the room, his face pale, his expression one of pure panic.

"Your Grace," he said, his voice urgent and full of fear. "Lady Delia is missing."

The glass fell from Eric’s hand and shattered on the polished wood floor, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the silent house.

"Delia?" Eric said, his voice a choked whisper. "What do you mean? How?"

"I went to pick her up, Your Grace, just as she instructed," Rye explained, his own voice shaking slightly. "I went to her grandfather’s place at the agreed-upon time. But when I got there, the butler told me she had been gone for hours. He said he thought she had hired her own carriage to come take her home." He took a deep, shaky breath. "It is already very late, Your Grace. I fear... I fear she may have been kidnapped."

Eric didn’t waste another second. He didn’t shout, he didn’t panic. He just moved. A cold, terrifying calm settled over him. He took his coat from the sofa where he had left it and went straight for the front door. He looked up at the dark, starless sky. "It is going to get colder," he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "I hope she is fine."

Rye, already recovered from his shock, opened the carriage door for him. Eric got in. Rye quickly got to the driver’s seat. He didn’t wait. He flicked the reins hard.

"Hayah!" he exclaimed, his voice a sharp crack in the cold night air. The horses, sensing the urgency of their master, started off at a full, frantic gallop, carrying the Duke into the dark night to find the woman he now knew he could not live without before something dreadful happens.