Reborn: The Duke's Obsession-Chapter 283 - Two Hundred And Eighty Three

The rich, savory aroma of beef and herbs filled the small, tidy kitchen of the Pembroke home. Mrs. Pembroke, her face flushed from the heat of the stove, tasted the stew she had been carefully tending to all afternoon. It was perfect. This meal had to be perfect. Everything depended on it.

As she stirred the thick, bubbling liquid one last time, a hand darted past her, snatching a piece of tender cooked meat from the cutting board. With a speed born of long practice, Mrs. Pembroke smacked the back of the hand with her wooden spoon.

"Ouch! Mama!" Evelin yelped, pulling her hand back. "It's just one piece."

"That is your fourth 'just one piece' now, Evelin," Mrs. Pembroke replied, her voice tight with a nervous energy she couldn't hide. "The stew will be nothing but gravy if you continue. Go and set the table. And use the good silver."

Evelin stood up from her stool with a dramatic sigh, grumbling as she went to the dining room. "You only do this to me," she muttered under her breath.

"That's because you are the only one who consistently angers me," Mrs. Pembroke called after her. She lowered her voice, her tone shifting from irritation to a desperate plea. "Evelin, come back here for a moment."

Her daughter reappeared in the doorway, a stack of porcelain plates in her hands.

"I won't ask for anything else from you today, but please," Mrs. Pembroke said, her eyes begging. "Behave yourself later. Don't be mean. Don't ask impertinent questions. Don't ruin this for us. Please."

Evelin's expression softened at the raw desperation in her mother's voice. She understood the stakes. "Of course, Mother. Trust me," she said, her usual flippancy replaced by a dramatic sincerity. "I will be the most angelic, charming, perfect sister-in-law you have ever seen."

Mrs. Pembroke let out a long, shaky sigh. She could only hope.

Just then, a firm, decisive knock came on the front door.

"That must be them," Mrs. Pembroke whispered, her heart giving a little leap. She quickly untied her apron, her hands trembling slightly. "Hurry, let's greet them."

Evelin, her face suddenly alight with a giddy excitement, quickly dropped the plates onto the dining table and rushed to open the door. "Hello!" she greeted with a wide, dazzling smile.

Mrs. Pembroke came up behind her, composing her own features into a mask of warm, welcoming grace. "Oh my goodness, welcome!" she exclaimed.

George entered, his own familiar, handsome face beaming with a happiness his mother hadn't seen in a very long time. On his arm was a young woman of breathtaking elegance. She was tall and graceful, with kind eyes and a gentle smile. She curtsied deeply as she offered Mrs. Pembroke a large, beautiful bouquet of flowers.

"It is so nice to finally meet you, Mother," she said, her voice soft and melodious. "My name is Victoria Thompson."

The name hit Evelin like a bolt of lightning. A small, undignified squeak of excitement escaped her lips. "Lady Thompson?" she breathed, her eyes as wide as saucers. "The only daughter of Duke Charles Thompson? The Duke of Carleton?"

Victoria smiled in response, a little bashfully, and gave a small, confirming nod.

Mrs. Pembroke shot Evelin a sharp, warning stare that clearly said, Compose yourself!

Victoria, seemingly unfazed by Evelin's outburst, handed the vibrant bouquet of lilies and roses to Mrs. Pembroke. "This is for you, Mother."

"Oh, my goodness, you shouldn't have," Mrs. Pembroke said, taking the flowers and trying to hide the triumphant glee that was soaring through her. "Mother. She called me Mother."

"It is my thank you gift," Victoria smiled. "You raised George to be such a good, kind man." She looked up at George, her eyes full of a genuine, unwavering adoration. He returned the smile, his own gaze so full of love it was almost tangible. He gently squeezed her hand where it rested on his arm.

In that moment, watching them, Mrs. Pembroke's mind was a whirlwind of triumphant calculation. "Weldone, George," she thought, her own smile feeling completely, effortlessly natural now. "You have truly done it. We have hit the jackpot. Your love has saved us." The shame of their dwindling finances, the debts they were still struggling to settle, the humiliation of being ignored by high society, the constant worry that had been her companion since their title was stripped away—it all began to melt away.

"This girl, this perfect, well-mannered, Duke's daughter, will restore our dignity. She will put us back into society where we belong."

"Please, come in, come in," Mrs. Pembroke said, her voice overflowing with a warmth that was only half-feigned. "Dinner is almost ready. George, take Lady Victoria in and make her comfortable."

In the small but tidy room, they sat and made polite conversation. Victoria spoke of her travels, of her love for painting, and of how she had met George at a charity event. Every word she spoke was modest and intelligent. She was, to Mrs. Pembroke's immense relief, utterly perfect.

Her heart soared. "She has good breeding," she thought as she watched Victoria elegant behavior and how soft spoken she is. " No snobbery at all. This is better than I ever could have hoped even better than that Baron's daughter, Delia. The Duke must adore her. The benefits and connections we will have will be immense. Evelin will finally get a good match. All our troubles are over.

As Evelin and her mother went to the kitchen, Mrs. Pembroke leaned against the door, a long, deep sigh of utter triumph and relief escaping her lips. Evelin rushed to her side, her eyes sparkling.

"A Duke's daughter, Mother! Can you believe it?" she whispered excitedly. "I heard her father is the queen's cousin. We are going to be related to royalty! We're saved!"

"Hush, child," Mrs. Pembroke said, though a wide, triumphant smile was spreading across her own face. "It is not polite to speak of such things." But in her heart, she was shouting the same thing. They were saved. George had saved them all.