Chapter 80 - Eighty
Philip leaned forward, his expression now cunning. "It would be good for us to lay our cards on the table, you and I. It would be good for us to find a way to work together."
Delia’s mind was reeling. "Money he stole?" she repeated, the words feeling foreign in her mouth. "What are you talking about?" Her grandfather was a proud man, but she had never known him to be a thief.
Philip chuckled, a low, condescending sound. He then tapped his cane on the floor three times, a sharp, rhythmic sound that drew all attention to him. He stood up.
"Look, Lady Delia," he said, his entire demeanor changing. The mask of the sympathetic fellow outcast was gone, replaced by the cold authority of a Duke.
He walked closer to her, his steps slow and deliberate, until he had almost closed the distance between them. He loomed over her, a physically intimidating presence. "You need to understand the game you are playing..."
Just as he was about to continue, a hand, firm and unyielding, was placed on his chest, stopping him and pushing him back a step.
"Get away from her," Eric’s voice commanded, low and dangerous. "Now."
Philip stumbled back a bit, surprised by his brother’s sudden appearance. He quickly recovered, his expression shifting to one of pleasant surprise. "Eric! What is this?" he asked, as if he had just noticed him. "I thought you would be occupied with your work, as you always are." He smiled, a picture of innocence.
"You sneaky rat," Eric replied, his own voice a low growl. He moved to stand slightly in front of Delia, creating a protective barrier with his own body. "Who knows what you are plotting now? I felt I needed to put up an iron wall of defense, no?"