Chapter 23 - Twenty Three
The Baron’s quiet consent fell into the room like a stone, sending ripples of shock and outrage through the assembled family.
"Papa!"
"Henry!"
The words were spoken at the exact same time, a look of disbelief from Anne and Augusta. Anne, her face blotchy and stained with tears, shot a look of pure venom at Delia.
"This doesn’t make any sense," she accused, her voice rising with anger.
"When did you two even know each other? How can you possibly be so smitten with one another after a single night?" She pointed a trembling finger at Delia, her mind desperately searching for an explanation that made sense, one that painted Delia as the villain. "Were you cheating on George all this while? Is that it? You broke up your engagement with him as soon as you knew the Duke was coming to the ball!"
The barrage of false accusations, the familiar sting of being blamed for things she hadn’t done, finally broke through Delia’s shocked stupor. A fire she didn’t know she possessed ignited in her chest. She met her stepsister’s furious gaze, her own eyes now cold and hard.
"I will not take any more vile nonsense from your lips," Delia spat, her voice low but firm, each word sharp and clear. "So I suggest you bridle your tongue."
Before the fight could escalate, Eric gently took Delia’s hand in his. His thumb began to rub soothing circles on the back of her hand, a small, grounding gesture that sent a jolt of warmth through her. He didn’t look at Delia, however. His gaze was fixed on Anne, a lazy, challenging smirk now playing on his lips.