CHAPTER 265: CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY FIVE

The carriage rolled smoothly into the grand courtyard of their residence, coming to a gentle stop before the main entrance.

The moment the door was opened, the sounds of a bustling, happy household greeted them. Footmen in crisp uniforms stood ready, and maids moved with quiet efficiency in the grand foyer.

"Welcome, Your Grace. Welcome, young master," a line of maids greeted with synchronized curtsies as Delia and Owen entered. One of them stepped forward to take Delia’s hat and her small, beaded reticule.

Delia’s gaze fell to the sealed envelope she was clutching in her hand, the doctor’s official report. Her heart gave a nervous flutter.

"Where is my husband?" she asked one of the senior maids.

"His Grace is in his study, Your Grace," the maid replied. "He is meeting with his aide, Mr. Aiden."

Delia nodded. She looked at Owen, whose eyes were already scanning the hall for his tutor. She turned to one of the younger maids. "Please take the young master to his room and get him ready for his lessons. I believe his tutor will be here soon."

"Yes, Your Grace," the maid bowed. "This way, young master."

Owen followed obediently, and they were gone, leaving Delia alone in the vast foyer with her important news. She took a deep breath, her fingers tightening on the envelope, and made her way towards Eric’s study.

She knocked softly on the heavy oak door and heard a clear "Enter."

She pushed the door open and slipped inside, seeing Eric and Aiden standing over a large map spread across a table. Aiden was pointing to a spot on the coastline, his expression serious.

"...and that’s where the error occurred, Your Grace," Aiden was explaining. "The shipping manifest was mislabeled. The silks meant for the northern port ended up on a vessel bound for the west. It will cause a two-week delay."

Delia didn’t say anything. She just stood quietly by the door, content for a moment to simply watch her husband at work. He looked so commanding, so in his element, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Noticing that the person who knocked hadn’t spoken, Eric looked up. His serious expression immediately melted away when he saw Delia standing by the door, a soft, warm smile spreading across his face.

"My Duchess?" he said, his voice full of pleasant surprise. "What are you doing just standing there?"

"Can I have a moment of your time?" Delia asked, a little shyly.

"You can have all of my time," Eric replied without hesitation, his eyes never leaving hers. He turned to Aiden. "Aiden was just leaving."

Aiden looked confused for a second, his mouth opening to protest. "I was?" he asked.

Eric shot him a quick, sharp warning glance.

Aiden’s confusion immediately cleared, and a knowing chuckle escaped him. "Ah! Yes. I was. I was just leaving," he said smoothly, rolling up the map. "I’ll go ahead with the procurement for the new looms and report back in a few days." He bowed deeply to Eric. "I will take my leave now, Your Grace." He then turned to Delia, a respectful smile on his face. "Your Grace." He bowed again and then left the study, closing the door softly behind him.

The moment they were alone, the atmosphere in the room shifted from professional to intimate. Eric went to his seat and patted his lap, a silent, playful invitation.

Delia walked towards him, the silk of her dress rustling with each step. She settled onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning into his familiar warmth.

"You still don’t want to merge your establishment with Carson Textile," she asked, her fingers gently arranging the hair at the nape of his neck.

Eric tucked a stray strand of her own hair behind her ear, his touch sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. "That’s my blood, sweat, and tears," he explained softly. "It’s the first thing I ever built on my own. It’s where I was known and seen for my own efforts. Besides," he added, a proud smile on his face, "Aiden is managing it nicely, and I’m managing Carson Textile nicely too."

Delia rested her head on his shoulder. "Just don’t stress yourself too much. I don’t want you falling sick again."

Eric smirked, his voice becoming a low, rough murmur. His hands, which had been resting on her waist, began to move, sliding under the layers of her dress. His fingers found the edge of her stocking, playing with the delicate lace, his touch teasing a path up her thigh. His breath tickled her neck as he leaned in, inhaling her scent. "Did you come into my study to seduce me, Duchess?" he whispered. He placed a soft kiss on her neck, then gave it a gentle, playful bite, causing a soft moan to escape her lips. "Well," he continued, his voice husky, "I’m certainly down for such an indulgence."

His kisses grew more insistent, and Delia felt herself melting into him, her purpose for coming here momentarily forgotten. But then her hand, which was resting on his chest, brushed against the crisp envelope she was still holding. The envelope. The thought brought her crashing back to reality.

She broke away from his kisses, her face flushed, her breathing a little uneven. "Actually," she stammered, "I... I..."

Eric pulled back slightly, his teasing smirk softening into a look of genuine curiosity. "Do you want to tell me something?" he asked gently.

"No. Yes. I am... I want to..." The words wouldn’t form. She was suddenly shy, unable to speak.

"Why are you so shy all of a sudden?" Eric asked, his brow furrowing with a hint of concern. "Is something wrong? You look quite flushed."

Her words failing her, she simply gave him the envelope.

The moment he saw the seal of the physician, his expression turned serious. The playful, passionate man from a moment ago was gone, replaced by a husband filled with a sudden, cold fear.

"What is this?" he asked, his voice sharp with concern. He took the letter, his eyes searching her face. "Are you alright? Are you sick?"

Delia’s heart ached at the genuine worry in his eyes. "Just read it," she said softly.

He looked at her for one more long, questioning moment before breaking the wax seal with his thumb. His eyes scanned the neat, looping script of the doctor’s report. He read the first line, then the second. He stopped, his entire body going still. He looked up from the paper, his eyes wide, not with fear, but with a dawning, wondrous, unbelievable joy.

"You are with child?" he whispered, the words full of awe, as if he were speaking of a miracle.