Reborn: The Duke’s Obsession

George sat on the park bench, the crumpled, hateful pamphlet still clutched in his hand. The sun was warm on his face, a stark contrast to the cold, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had tried to tune out the whispers of the people around him, but it was impossible. The city was a hornet's nest, and the pamphlet was the stone that had been thrown into it.

A well-dressed couple, the woman's hand resting on the man's arm in a clear display of courtship, passed by his bench. They both held copies of the pamphlet.

"And I thought she was such a well-coordinated, respectable young woman when I saw her at the Grayson's ball last season," the woman said, her voice full of a disappointed disapproval.

The man beside her let out a cynical scoff. "Who cares about respectability? She is a beautiful woman, and beautiful women like her are often trouble. She is just a witch who knows how to use her face to get what she wants."

Further down the path, two men in their nice coats were discussing the matter with a more heated tone.

"She is certainly pretty, I will give her that," one said with a sly, lecherous smile. "And men will always go for a pretty face. I certainly would not be an exception if she looked my way."

The other man replied with a look of stern, moralistic disgust. "Have some self-respect, my man. I would never go near a woman like that. She has no honor, no loyalty. She is poison."

Two older women, their faces hidden by the shade of their elegant parasols, walked by, their voices a low, gossipy murmur.

"The ex-fiancé must be in such a state of shock right now," one of them said, shaking her head sadly. "The poor man. He had to stand by and watch a more powerful, more wealthy man just take his woman away from him. It is a terrible shame."

"It is a shame for the Carsons, is what it is," the other woman replied, her voice sharp. "Maybe she will get kicked out of the family now that this is public. This is a terrible stain on the reputation of such a prestigious family."

George tried to tune them out, to stop listening to the whispers that were dissecting his life, his failure, his shame. He closed his eyes, but it was no use.

From just behind him, he could hear the light, soft voices of a group of young ladies who had gathered on the grass.

"Isn't this story about Lord George Pembroke?" one of them asked, her voice full of a breathless excitement.

"Really?" another one asked, peering at her own copy of the pamphlet. "Is everything that is written in here actually true?"

"But why did she break off her engagement with him in the first place?" a third one asked. "I remember hearing the gossip about the break-up sometime ago, but I had no idea it was this serious."

The young woman who seemed to be the leader of the gathering, a pretty, dark-haired girl named Lady Margaret, replied, her own eyes fixed on the pamphlet she held in her gloved hand. She was one of the many young women who had been set up for a potential marriage with Eric in the past, and he had turned her down without a second thought. The rejection had left her with a deep and bitter jealousy.

"It is simple," she said, her voice full of a cool, confident pride. "She left Lord George the moment a more eligible, more wealthy man came along." She looked up from the page, her gaze sweeping over her small, captive audience. "Anyhow," she said with a dramatic sigh, "it is hardly surprising. It is all quite amazing, really."

The other young women leaned in closer, eager to hear more.

"She has always been like that, you know," Margaret continued, her voice dropping to a confidential whisper. "A complete man freak. Even when I used to go to Lady Anne's manor for tea parties, I would see the way she was always so close to the male servants in the house. Always smiling at them, touching their arms… It was quite improper." She shook her head sadly. "I think that is why her family always kept her out of society. They were trying to hide her shameful behavior. I suppose a fancy marriage doesn't really change a person's true nature."

One of the other ladies gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "What? Lady Margaret, you mean to say that you know the new Duchess personally?"

Margaret opened her fan and started fanning herself lightly, her face a mask of false innocence. "Oh my," she said, as if she had just let a great secret slip. "Didn't I mention that before?" She held her chest in a gesture of mock surprise. "I mean, I only really recognized her at the wedding. I was so shocked to see that she was the one marrying the Duke."

"Seriously?" another one asked, completely enthralled. "She was really like that back then?"

"Oh, yes," Margaret replied, her lies now flowing freely. "She was always with those handsome young stable boys and footmen. Lady Anne would always try to cover for her, of course, saying that Delia was just 'helping out' with their duties. But I would always wonder what kind of 'help' she was really giving them in those dark, empty hallways."

The other ladies covered their mouths in a collective gasp of shocked delight.

One of them, however, a quiet, more reasonable girl, spoke up, her own expression a little doubtful. "She didn't come across like that to me at the wedding," she said. "She seemed very quiet and reserved."

Margaret looked at her with a flash of open displeasure. "And how would you possibly know that?" she snapped, her sweet facade momentarily cracking. "You have only met her once, and very briefly at that. You saw the performance she puts on for the public. I have seen the real her."

The reasonable girl, intimidated by Margaret's sharp tone, fell silent. The rest of the group, however, was now completely convinced of Margaret's scandalous, and entirely fabricated, story.