Reborn: The Duke's Obsession-Chapter 33 - Thirty Three

The part of the kingdom Delia went to look for Owen was a world away from the manicured lawns and grand manors she was used to. The abandoned tea shop stood at the end of a crooked, dusty lane, its windows boarded up and its paint peeling. Inside, however, Delia had brought a small pocket of comfort. She had laid out a feast from a nearby bakery on one of the less dusty tables: a whole roasted chicken, a loaf of soft bread, mashed potatoes with gravy, and a large pitcher of lemonade.

"Hmmm, this is delicious, Lady Delia," Owen said, his voice muffled as he chewed on a chicken leg, his mouth full. His eyes, bright and sharp in his young face, were shining with pure delight. "I’m so glad you came. I haven’t had anything to eat since yesterday evening." He finished the chicken leg and licked the grease from his fingers without a hint of shame, his hunger far outweighing any sense of etiquette.

Delia smiled, a genuine, warm expression she reserved for the few people she trusted. "Eat as much as you want, Owen. There is plenty."

She had found Owen by chance a few days ago. After wasting precious money from her father’s brooch on baseless rumors about the Duke, she had been at her wit’s end. She had seen the small, wiry boy delivering papers to a nobleman’s house and had overheard him sharing a surprisingly accurate piece of gossip with another servant. Delia, desperate, had approached him.

She learned that Owen was an orphan, a child of the streets who had been unofficially adopted by the owner of the city’s main printing press. He slept on bundles of old papers in a back room and, in exchange, worked from before dawn until after dusk. He knew the ways of the street far too early for a young lad of twelve. His main job was delivering papers to the aristocrats, but his performance, and the tips he received, determined if he would have a meal that day or not.

Because he worked at the press, information was his currency. He saw pamphleteers come in, eager to sell their gossipy stories. He heard the whispers and the secrets of gossipmongers. With his sharp listening skills and a mind that missed nothing, he absorbed it all. For a few small coins, he had sold Delia the information about Duke Eric’s private life, information that had proven to be completely true and had formed the very foundation of her plan.

She reached out and gently stroked his messy brown hair. "Take it easy, Owen," she said softly. "We don’t want you choking."

Owen nodded his head enthusiastically and took a long drink of water before diving into the mashed potatoes. He looked at Delia’s side of the table and saw it was empty, save for her own glass of water. "Aren’t you going to eat, my lady?"

Delia smiled and shook her head. "I’ve already had mine," she lied gently. "This is all for you."

Owen shrugged, not one to question such good fortune, and took a large spoonful of potatoes and gravy. His voice was muffled with food as he asked his next question. "So, how is your plan going with His Grace?"

Delia, who had been sipping her water, snapped her head towards him, her eyes wide with surprise. "How did you..."

Owen continued without looking up from his plate, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I figured you didn’t go to all that trouble sourcing the Duke’s private information just because you wanted to be friends with him." He finally looked up at Delia, a knowing, almost cheeky expression on his young face that seemed to say, "Do I look like a fool to you?"

Delia couldn’t help but smile. "How can a twelve-year-old boy be this smart?"

Owen puffed out his chest with pride, a smear of gravy on his cheek. "Because I’m observant," he said, reciting what was clearly his personal mantra. "I wait. I listen. I react. That’s how you survive."

Delia nodded, impressed.

"I know you are the mystery lady the Duke wants to marry," Owen said, his tone now more serious. "Because right after I gave you that information, the marriage rumors started circulating everywhere. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots." He stopped eating, his focus now entirely on her. "So, how is it going, my lady?" freēnovelkiss.com

Delia felt strangely at ease conversing with this young boy. She could be more honest with him than with anyone else. "Not as well as I had planned," she admitted with a sigh. "I have the Duke on my side, but I need his family on my side as well."

"I see," Owen said, his expression thoughtful.

"That’s why I need your help again," Delia continued. "I need special information. I need a new plan on how to get to that goal."

Owen poured himself a tall glass of lemonade and took a big, noisy gulp. "Ahh!" he said, dropping the glass on the table with a thud. "Okay, look." He leaned forward, his demeanor changing from that of a hungry boy to a serious expression.

"When you’re going up against many enemies at once, what gives you the best chance of winning?" he asked her.

Delia was taken aback by his sudden, strategic approach. "What?" she asked, confused.

Owen ignored her question, his mind already working. "You don’t fight the whole army at once. You focus on beating one person. The most important person."

He pointed a gravy-stained finger at her. "But in your case, you don’t want to beat them. You want to focus on bringing one person from his family completely to your side. You pick the strongest one, the one with the most influence. If you win them over, the others will fall in line. That’s the best way.

Delia nodded her head slowly, understanding the simple, brilliant logic of his words. "So, who is that person in the Carson family?" she asked.

"Duchess Lyra," Owen replied without a moment’s hesitation. "The Duke’s mother. After her husband, Duke Julian, died at war, she took it upon herself to not just uphold, but to build the Carson family’s power and influence. She’s the big boss. She’s the one everyone in that house respects and fears a little. If you have her on your side, it’s smooth sailing for you, my lady."

A wave of despair washed over Delia. "But how do I do that? She already disapproves of me. Do I even have a chance?"

Owen smiled, a flash of his youthful confidence returning. "There’s always a chance. You just need the right battlefield." He leaned in again. "The Duchess attends a very exclusive social club called The Gilded Cage. It’s for recreational purposes, mostly for high-ranking aristocratic ladies to play cards, paint, embroidery, play croquet, music, drink tea, and, most importantly, gossip. She attends three times a week, like clockwork. That’s where the ladies of the kingdom get their information. I’m sure she has already heard a lot about you there."

Delia scoffed. "So much for a good first impression."

"Forget first impressions," Owen said dismissively. "You need to make a new impression. But you have to be smart about it." He looked at her with his serious, old-soul eyes. "Keep one thing in mind, my lady. When you meet her, she will be looking for weakness. When she smells desperation on you, it’s game over."

He then told Delia where the club was located and how she could buy a membership. As a Baron’s daughter, even one with a tarnished reputation, she had just enough status to be granted entry, provided she could pay the hefty fee.

Delia listened to every word, a new plan forming in her mind. She reached into her purse and gave him a handful of gold coins, far more than he had expected.

Owen’s eyes lit up, and he beamed with happiness as he quickly pocketed the money before it could disappear. His allegiance was secured. With his payment in hand, he happily returned to devouring the rest of the chicken, his duties fulfilled for the day.

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