Chapter 21 - Twenty One
The heavy scent of medicinal herbs filled Anne’s bedroom. She opened her eyes slowly, her head aching as if it was hit against the wall a million times. The first thing she saw was her mother’s anxious face as she spoke in low tones to the family doctor.
"Mama," Anne called out, her voice weak and fragile.
Augusta immediately dismissed the doctor and rushed to her daughter’s bedside. She sat down, her hand instantly going to Anne’s forehead, smoothing back her hair with gentle strokes. "My sweet girl. How are you feeling?"
The doctor, seeing his services were no longer needed, quietly dropped off some calming medicines on a side table and saw himself out.
The memory of the previous night—of Delia and the Duke walking away together—came rushing back to Anne, and fresh tears began to well in her eyes. She cried softly in her mother’s comforting arms, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Shhh, my sunshine, it’s alright," Augusta cooed, holding her close. "The doctor said you fainted from shock, but you will be fine, okay? There is nothing to worry about. I will put everything back on track. I promise you."
"No, Mama. Everything is already ruined. Delia has ruined my marriage proposal." Anne spoke in between sobs. " She has ruined me. She took the Duke away from me." Her body trembling with pent up tears. " She stole him from me."
Augusta pulled away from Anne, her expression hardening as her comforting expression was replaced by one of cold rage. "Everything will be fine. I’ll be right back," she said, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. "I just need to have a word with that little flirt. She seems to have forgotten her place so quickly."
Delia heard footsteps approaching then the heavy click of the lock on her bedroom door. She got to her feet just as the door swung open, revealing her stepmother. Augusta stepped into the room, leaving the door open behind her, a clear sign that this was not a discussion but a declaration. Her eyes immediately snagged on the dark blue ribbon tying back Delia’s hair. A scornful scoff escaped her lips.
"So," Augusta began, her voice dripping with contempt as she slowly circled Delia like a predator sizing up its prey. "Because you spent a single night with the Duke, you think it meant something? You think you’ve won?" She let out a short, ugly laugh. "No, my dear. It meant nothing. You were just a plaything for him. A momentary diversion for him to use and then discard."