Chapter 137 - Hundred And Thirty Seven
The carriage ride to Eric’s cabin was quiet, but this time it was a comfortable, peaceful silence. Eric has been anticipating the private meal he is to have with Delia all through the ride.
As they got to the familiar clearing in front of the rustic but elegant cabin, Mr. Rye helped Eric take out the wicker baskets filled with their meal. Together, they spread a thick, soft blanket on a patch of lush green grass under the shade of a tall, fragrant pine tree. The setting was simple, but in that moment, it felt more romantic and beautiful to Delia than the most opulent dining room in all of Albion.
"Please," Delia said, turning to the loyal driver as Eric began to unpack the food. "You have been with us all day, Mr. Rye. You must be hungry. Have a bowl of food with us."
Mr. Rye, who was about to head back to the carriage, stopped and waved his hands in a polite, flustered refusal. "No, no, Your Grace. I couldn’t possibly. I must refuse."
"And I must insist, Mr. Rye," Eric replied, a playful but firm tone in his voice. He looked at Delia with a warm, loving smile. "We don’t want the Duchess’s very generous offer to go to waste now, do we? It would be rude to refuse her."
Mr. Rye, caught between his duty and his master’s command, finally relented. He took a small bowl of food, thanked them both profusely with a deep, respectful bow, and then discreetly left them to eat in peace by the carriage.
As they sat down on the blanket and began to eat the delicious food, Eric teased her, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes. "So," he began, his voice a low, intimate murmur. "Tell me. How much do you really love me?" He was, of course, referring to the bold declaration she had made to George just a short while ago.
Delia’s cheeks flushed a pretty pink. "What are you saying?" she replied, trying to be evasive as she focused intently on a piece of roasted chicken on her plate.
"So it was all just an act, then?" Eric continued, his tone one of mock disappointment. "A clever performance to make that fool George finally flee? It wasn’t real?"
Delia didn’t say anything. She just smiled, a small, secret smile, and continued eating.