Reborn: The Duke’s Obsession

Delia has gotten back from her grandfather's place and decided to rest her head before she begins to look into her mother's accident. The day was beautiful, no doubt. A gentle, cool breeze swept through the garden of their private residence, carrying the sweet scent of the lavender and roses that she herself had planted. She sat on the large wooden swing that hung from the branches of an old, sturdy oak tree before Eric joined her. Her head rested comfortably on his shoulder as she kicked her feet playfully, the motion making the swing sway in a slow, lazy rhythm.

"Are you sure your grandmother won't scold you for not being at work today?" she asked, her voice a soft, contented murmur. " I don't want you to use me as an excuse for lazing around."

Eric chuckled, a low, warm sound that vibrated through her. "Well," he replied, "she probably would, if she knew."

Delia immediately sat up straight, a look of mock seriousness on her face. "Then what are you doing here? Why did you come? You should start leaving for your office right now." She placed her hand on his chest and gave him a playful push to leave the swing.

He caught her hand easily, " Do you now want to pay me back for pushing you off the swing that time?" He said with a smile. " It was just a childish accident."

Confused, Delia asked " what time? What do you mean by childish accident?"

Eric brought her hand to his lips and pressed a small, warm kiss to her wrist. "It's nothing. I misspoke." He looked at her " But don't worry about grandmother, I am sure that if she knows I am here because I am spending time with you," he said, his voice a low murmur, "then she would be very happy." He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "After all, she is very much expecting to see her great grandchildren soon." He then softly bit her earlobe. " So why make her wait,mmmmm, Delia?"

Delia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. " Eric!!!!" She hit him playfully on the chest, a blush rising on her own cheeks. It was in that moment, in the middle of their lighthearted, happy banter, that she remembered the serious conversation she had had with her grandfather the day before. The puzzle of her past was still not complete.

"Eric," she began, her tone now more serious, "you have worked with the King as a commander in his army before, right?"

Eric smiled, a look of impressed curiosity on his face. "I seriously need to know who your source is," he said. "This person is very, very good at what they do."

"Did you, or did you not?" Delia replied, ignoring his teasing, her voice showing how serious she is. " This is concerning the Baroness."

"Yes, I did," Eric confirmed. "For a few years. That is how I acquired the duchy of Elinburgh. It was a gift from the crown, a reward for my service. But after that, I decided to leave the military and pursue my own business. Why do you ask, my Duchess?"

"There is someone," she began, her voice a little hesitant, "a prisoner in the royal dungeons. I want to know about him. His name is Fredrick. Fredrick Garrison."

Eric kissed her wrist again, a silent promise of his help. "Okay," he said simply. "I will write a letter to an old colleague at the palace. I will ask for all the information they have on him. The response should arrive by this evening." Delia kissed Eric on the cheek and said " Thank you." She smiled as she got down the swing and into the house leaving Eric on the swing still reeling from the peck he received.

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The evening came quickly. Delia had freshen up and wore her nightgown. She scribbled some words into her diary before settling to read a book. Eric came into Delia's room, where she was reading by the lamplight. He had two sealed letters in his hands. "The response is here," he said. "But there are two letters." He looked at the plain looking one on his hand.

Delia smiled and put her book down. "I also sent a letter to Mrs. Doris this morning," she explained. "The other one must be hers. I wanted to know more from her perspective and add it to the official information the palace will provide."

She took the letter with the less formal handwriting and broke the seal. She began to read the familiar, neat script of her old nanny.

"…Yes, my lady, there's a man, Fredrick Garrison. He was a man who would always come to the Ellington manor, but only when your father was away for work and would not be back for several days. Every time he came, he would walk in as if he owned the place. He would always say, in a loud, arrogant voice, 'Augusta, my dear, your Freddie is here!'…"

Delia's hand flew to her mouth, her expression turning ashen. Eric, seeing the sudden, drastic change in her, immediately grew concerned. "What's wrong, Delia?" he asked, his own voice now full of a worried urgency. " What did it say?"

She didn't answer him. Her eyes, wide with a dawning horror, continued to read the letter.

"…He was the Baroness's secret lover, my lady. The lover I told you about who would come to the manor to see her in your father's absence. I suspected he was the one providing arsenic to the Baroness that she used to poison your food."

Delia dropped the letter. It fluttered to the floor like a dead leaf. She frantically looked around the room, her eyes landing on the small, wooden box on her writing table, the one that she kept her mother's things. She rushed over to it and began to search through its contents, her hands trembling. " Where is it?" She asked herself.

"You are scaring me, Delia," Eric said, his face now covered with worry. "What is wrong? What did the letter say?"

She ignored him. She found what she was looking for: the old, yellowed pamphlet, the paper clipping about her mother's tragic carriage accident. Her trembling fingers unfolded the fragile paper. She read the words her mind had skimmed over before, but now they screamed at her from the page. The article described how the driver of the other carriage, the one who had caused the accident, had fled the scene and had never been identified.

She looked at the name in Mrs. Doris's letter, then back at the pamphlet. And then, all the terrible, ugly, and heartbreaking pieces of the puzzle that was her life finally, finally, clicked into place.

"He was the one," she whispered, her voice a sound of horror.