Reborn: The Duke’s Obsession

Duchess Lyra's carriage, a magnificent vehicle of polished black lacquer and silver, stopped in front of the establishment entrance. She stepped out of the carriage as she adjusted her fine leather gloves and the elegant, wide-brimmed hat that sat perfectly upon her styled hair. Mr. Prescott, Augusta's informant and man-of-all-work, was waiting for her at the entrance of the Ellington Textile Establishment. He bowed low as she approached.

"Welcome, Your Grace," he said, his expression one of surprised deference. "We were not expecting you today. If I may?" He gestured for her to enter, ready to show her the way.

"Lead the way," Lyra replied, her voice cool and authoritative.

Prescott took Lyra inside, through the bustling main office, and to the door of Augusta's private study. Augusta, who had been hunched over her ledgers, immediately stood up as the Duchess entered. She smoothed her dress and greeted her with a deep, respectful curtsy.

"Your Grace," she said, her own voice a perfect blend of surprise and hospitality.

"Baroness," Lyra greeted back with a slight, formal nod.

Augusta turned to Prescott. "Get us a fresh pot of tea," she commanded.

Prescott left to do as he was told. Augusta then led Lyra to a pair of comfortable armchairs and a low table in the middle of the study. As they both took their seats, Prescott came back in with a silver tray holding a steaming teapot, a cup of cubed sugar and two fine porcelain teacups. He placed them carefully on the table and then left, closing the door softly behind him.

Augusta took the teapot and began to pour a cup for Lyra. The entire room was immediately filled with the warm, spicy scent of cinnamon. "I heard from Baroness Dupont that you are quite fond of cinnamon tea," Augusta said as she finished pouring.

"Yes, I am," Lyra replied, a small, polite smile on her face. "Thank you for being so considerate."

Augusta smiled as she used a small pair of silver tongs to pick up a lump of sugar. "How many lumps of sugar would you like, Your Grace?"

"Just one, thank you," Lyra replied.

As the sugar was added and Lyra stirred her tea with a delicate silver spoon, the polite, primary rituals were completed. The real conversation was about to begin.

Lyra took a slow, deliberate sip of her tea, and then she placed the infamous gossip pamphlet on the table between them. She said nothing more. She just continued sipping her tea, her gaze calm and unreadable.

Augusta saw the pamphlet and knew immediately what this visit was about. She put on a sad, world-weary expression.

"That is precisely why I said she was inadequate for the Carson family at the family introduction," she began with a heavy sigh. "I tried to warn everyone. And now, here we are." She took a sip from her own cup, then placed it back on its saucer with a soft, sorrowful clink. "I am so very ashamed."

Lyra, allowing Augusta to finish her performance, then placed her own teacup back in its saucer with a matching, deliberate clink. "There is something I don't quite understand, Baroness," she said, her voice full of a cool, polite confusion.

Augusta looked at her. "Pardon?"

Lyra smiled and took her cup again. After having another sip, she looked down at the beautiful, hand-painted floral design on the porcelain, admiring its artistry. "You care so very much about what other people can see, don't you?" she remarked, her gaze then shifting back to Augusta.

"Your daughter, Delia, because of this scandal, might get thrown out of the Carson family. A messy divorce might be underway. And her reputation will most likely be crumbled to dust, to a point where she won't even dare to step foot into polite society without hearing the most demeaning and vile words about herself."

Lyra held her gaze, her eyes sharp and assessing. "And as I look at you now, Baroness, you even look a little… excited… about this whole terrible situation."

Augusta let out a short, nervous chuckle. "How could you say such a thing, Your Grace?" she said, feigning a look of hurt surprise. "I am just trying my best to look calm, as an elder of the family should in a time of crisis."

Lyra nodded her head slowly. "Yes, you are right about that," she agreed. "An elder should indeed be calm and step up to correct what is wrong." She let out a weary sigh as she dropped her cup back in its saucer.

Augusta, believing she had successfully won Lyra over to her side, smiled. "I am so glad we are on the same page, Your Grace," she said, her voice now full of a hopeful energy. "So, you agree with me then? My daughter and your son should break up, for the good of both our families?"

Lyra smiled and nodded. "Yes."

Augusta's own smile became a wide, happy, triumphant expression. "Oh, wonderful!" she exclaimed, her relief palpable. "I will send for the Ellington family's legal representative this very afternoon. I am sure that your lawyers and ours can work together to push for the divorce as soon as possible, to curb the spread of this scandal and stop it from tarnishing your family's good name any further." She was already getting ahead of herself, her mind racing with the possibilities. "Or, should I go and move Delia's things out of the Duke's private residence first?"

Lyra looked at Augusta with a look of fake, wide-eyed confusion. "Wait. Hold on a moment. What do you… Oh, goodness me," she said, her voice full of a dramatic, apologetic tone. "I am so very sorry for the confusion, Baroness. I did not mean Eric and Delia."

Augusta's eyes widened in shock.

"I was talking about Duke Philip and your other daughter, Anne," Lyra finished, her own smile now a cold, sharp, and victorious thing.

"I beg your pardon?" Augusta stammered, her triumphant mood shattering into a million pieces. "You… you want to leave the two of them alone? After what they've done?"

Lyra nodded with a serene smile. "Yes."

"But they lied to the entire family!" Augusta continued, her voice now a desperate squeak. "Their entire marriage was a sham! A contract! Are you not even angry that they deceived you and the Dowager Duchess so completely?"

"Angry?" Lyra replied, her voice calm and steady. "Of course I was angry. I was very angry. I was consumed with a fury so intense I could barely speak." Her smile widened. "But I have decided that I do not want to simply grant the wishes of those malicious people who so desperately want to see them divorced. Why should I give them the satisfaction?"

Augusta looked at Lyra, her expression now one of complete and utter confusion.

Lyra continued, "Besides, I am not completely unrelated to this situation myself."

"What do you possibly mean by that?" Augusta asked.

"I told Delia," Lyra replied, her voice now a low, conspiratorial whisper, "that if she could bring my son, Eric, back into the Carson family establishment, back to his rightful place, within six months, that I would give her my full and unconditional blessing for their marriage." She leaned back in her chair, a look of pure, triumphant power on her face. "So you see, Baroness, I also made a deal with that marriage. And I am very much looking forward to seeing my daughter-in-law fulfill her end of the bargain."