"Delia!!!" A voice bood, cutting through the peaceful afternoon air. Baroness Augusta and Anne, who had remained in the garden, turned sharply. George was striding towards the manor doors, his face red with anger and frustration. Two manor guards, seemingly on his heels, were trying to restrain him, their hands on his arms.
"Delia, please listen to !" George yelled, his voice echoing across the courtyard.
Baroness Augusta subtly signaled to the guards with a flick of her wrist. The guards, recognizing her unspoken command, imdiately released George and stepped back, disappearing into the shadows of the manor entrance.
Augusta’s face was covered with false innocence as she addressed George. "What’s the aning of this, George? What’s going on between you two? What happened?" Her tone was laced with an underlying demand for answers, yet carefully crafted to sound concerned.
George, still agitated, ran a hand through his hair. "Can we postpone the wedding, Baroness? I think she’s overwheld. The wedding must have taken a toll on her." He was clearly trying to smooth things over, to save face, and perhaps, to avoid a public scene.
Just then, the manor doors opened, and Delia stepped out, her expression cold and resolute. She saw George, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and desperation. With a swift, decisive movent, Delia reached for her left hand. She pulled off the engagent ring, the diamond glittering mockingly in the sunlight. With all her might, she hurled it at him.
The ring flew through the air and hit George squarely on his chest. It bounced off him with a dull thud and fell to the ground, landing silently in the gravel at his feet. The sound seed to pierce the sudden silence that had fallen over the courtyard.
"What are we postponing? Seems you all didn’t hear what I said?!" Delia shouted, her voice trembling slightly, but firm. Her gaze swept from George to Baroness Augusta and Anne, who were now staring openly.
George, picking up the ring, looked at Delia, his eyes wide with disbelief. "My mother ca back from the modiste saying you were breaking off the engagent and not going through with the marriage." He paused, his gaze boring into hers. "What’s your reason?"
Delia scoffed, a bitter, humorless sound. "Do you want to say it out here that another woman resides—"
She couldn’t finish her sentence. George, his face suddenly panicked, moved quickly. He grabbed her arm, his grip surprisingly strong, and pulled her away from the courtyard, away from the prying eyes and ears of Baroness Augusta, Anne, and any servants who might be watching. He practically dragged her towards the back of the manor, towards the secluded, rarely used path that led to the old stables.
They reached a safe distance, hidden by a thick hedge and the looming wall of the stables. Delia forcefully pulled her hand away from his, her eyes blazing. "Let go of ! Don’t touch again!"
She looked at him directly, her gaze unwavering. His eyes, usually so confident, were now filled with shock and a hint of fear.
Delia let out a mocking laughter, a harsh, broken sound that held no joy. "You think I don’t know?"
George stood silently, his shoulders slumped, the engagent ring still clutched in his hand. He said nothing, simply watched her, his face a canvas of guilt.
Delia continued, tears finally streaming down her face, hot and stinging. "You have another woman in your heart. You never loved ." The words were a raw wound, torn open for him to see.
George finally spoke, his voice low and raspy. "Delia, I—"
But Delia cut him off, her voice rising again, fueled by years of unspoken hurt and betrayal. "And it’s soone who cannot love you back." She chuckled again, a choked, tearful sound, wiping furiously at her wet cheeks. "You want to marry to get close to her, am I right? I know you love Anne."
George wanted to say sothing, to explain, to deny, but Delia wasn’t finished. The floodgates had opened, and years of suppressed pain ca pouring out. "Or is it because of what you would gain? Your mother wouldn’t even agree for you to marry an illegitimate child, but she agreed because your family will gain sothing from being in alliance with mine, right?" Her voice was sharp, accusing, hitting him with the truth he couldn’t deny.
She looked him straight in the eyes, her gaze piercing. "Or is it self-pity? You feel we are both in the sa status. You want soone to make you feel important, right? What a good pair: The illegitimate child of the Ellington family and the son of a rchant who miraculously beca a Lord."
Then, a new realization hit her, clearer and colder than anything before. She covered her mouth with her hand, a small "Ohhh!" escaping her lips. "That’s why. You know you are beneath her! That’s why you can’t even confess your feelings to her!"
She laughed again. "Or is it pity? You know I loved you and will do anything for you so you want to marry out of pity." She scread. "How dare you pity ?"
Her expression beca serious. Fury burning in her blue iris. " Or is it all I’ve ntioned?"
George remained silent.
Delia let out a dry humorless chuckle. " I already knew the answer and your silence just confird them."
George, his face pale, went down on his knees in the dirt, the ring still clutched in his hand. "Delia, I—" he began to beg, his voice filled with desperation.
But Delia had heard enough. She had given him more than enough of her ti, her tears, her truth. "Hold it," she interrupted, her voice firm and final. "I’ve given you enough reasons. So don’t co close to in the future."
She turned away from him, leaving him kneeling there. She walked back towards the manor. This ti, she was done with George. Done with the Pembrokes. Done with being used. And she wouldn’t look back.
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