CHAPTER 114: CHAPTER HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN

"Lyra, leave the poor children alone," the Dowager Duchess Elena said, her voice full of a warm, amused authority that immediately calmed the room. She turned to the couple, her eyes twinkling. "Thank you both for coming home. Now, let us all eat. Please, sit."

Eric and Delia smiled, the momentary tension from Lyra’s questions dissolving. As Delia want to settle into her chair, Eric reached over and pulled it, making a loud scraping noise on the marble floor as he dragged it much closer to his own.

The sudden, loud noise caught the attention of everyone at the table. Everyone including Delia looked at him.

"She was too far away," Eric explained, a perfectly innocent expression on his face. "I needed her to be closer so that I could pass the dishes to her more easily."

Amber, sitting across from them, let out a knowing grin. "Indeed, brother. To pass the dishes. Of course."

Eric replied playfully, a challenge in his eyes. "What is it, Amber? Do you have something to say?"

"Nothing at all," Amber replied, her grin widening. "I can just smell the jealousy radiating from everything on you. Are you so scared that we will take your beloved Delia away from you? Because I, for one, would like to have her all to myself. We have dress fittings and social gatherings to attend."

"No, I don’t need to be scared," Eric replied, turning to look at Delia with a gaze so full of love it was almost tangible. "Because Delia has already promised me her heart."

Delia, embarrassed by this public display of affection, turned to Amber, trying to deflect. "Don’t mind your brother," she said, her cheeks flushing a pretty pink. "He is just acting childish this afternoon because you didn’t give him a proper welcome-home hug."

Eric’s loving stare was broken as he turned to defend himself. "No, I am not!"

"Ohhh," Amber teased, her eyes dancing with mischief. "So you are actually jealous that I hugged Delia and not you. I knew it!"

"Who needs your hugs," Eric retorted with a playful scoff, "when I can have Delia’s hugs every day for the rest of my life?"

Amber, defeated in the war of words, stuck out her tongue at him like a child.

"Stop that, this instant. Both of you," Lyra’s voice cut through the banter, stern but with an undercurrent of amusement. "Why are you two acting like five-year-olds? We are at the dining table. Where are your manners?"

"Sorry, Mother," Amber and Eric chorused, their expressions now perfectly angelic.

Just as the cheerful, loving atmosphere settled back over the room, the Dowager Duchess Elena, who was facing the main doorway, looked up. Her expression shifted slightly.

"Philip," she said, her voice quiet but clear.

The name instantly changed the mood in the room. Philip entered the dining area, his cane making a soft, rhythmic thud on the marble floor with each step. He saw Eric and Delia, and a cool, unreadable expression settled on his face.

"I see, Eric and his new wife are here," he remarked, his tone polite but devoid of any warmth.

Eric and Delia both turned in their seats to see him. Eric’s playful, happy expression vanished, replaced by a cold, hard mask.

Lyra, sensing the tension in the room , tried to maintain the peace. "Since you are here, Philip, come and join us for lunch," she invited.

"Thank you, Mother, but I cannot," Philip replied. "I have something I need to tell everyone first." He looked towards the entrance of the dining room. "Come in."

A figure appeared in the doorway. It was Anne. She walked into the dining area and came to stand beside Philip, a picture of perfect, demure grace.

"Wait a moment," Elena said, her sharp eyes narrowing. "Aren’t you one of the Ellington in-laws?"

Delia stared, completely and utterly shocked to see her stepsister standing there, in the heart of the Carson family home. Eric just turned his head away in disgust and focused on cutting a piece of chicken on his plate.

Anne, with a small, perfect smile on her face, curtsied deeply to Elena. "Good day, Your Grace," she greeted. She then turned to Lyra and offered another flawless curtsy. "Good day, Your Grace."

Amber looked at Anne, her own friendly expression curdling into one of pure, unadulterated disgust.

Philip looked around at the silent, stunned table. "She is my guest," he said, a challenge in his voice. "Aren’t you all going to welcome her?"

Lyra was the first to find her voice. "Lady Anne," she said, her tone no longer warm but dangerously polite. "What is going on right now?"

Anne looked at Philip, who gave her a slight, encouraging nod. She then looked back at Lyra. "Well," she began, and then, with a shocking, presumptuous familiarity, she said, "we are courting, Mother."

The word "Mother" was a deliberate, calculated move, a shocking claim of intimacy and future status. Lyra flinched, a small, almost immediate movement, as if she had just heard the worst possible news.

"What?" she asked, her voice a strangled whisper. "You are doing what?"

"Anne and I are courting," Philip replied calmly, confirming the unbelievable news. "And we are discussing the possibility of marriage."

Anne then turned her head and looked directly at Delia, a wicked, triumphant smile spreading across her face. The message was clear: You may have won the battle, but I will win the war.

The room was frozen in a state of shock and horror. Anne looked at Delia with a triumphant expression. Elena stared at her eldest grandson, her expression hard and furious. Eric continued to focus intently on his meal, his jaw tight, refusing to give either of them the satisfaction of a reaction. Amber looked at Anne with open disgust, making no effort to hide her feelings. And Lyra... Lyra was too stunned to speak, her face a mask of pale, horrified disbelief. The happy family lunch had just been interrupted in the most unexpected way.