Bride Behind The Mask

The guys? She couldn’t possibly expect Robert to drink on her behalf, could she?

It was obviously meant for Frederick!

Marguerite eyed Frederick across from her, who had already laid down his knife and fork. His gaze was fixed unblinkingly on her, a silent challenge in the depths of his eyes.

She wasn’t sure how to broach the topic, but Frederick’s cool and nonchalant voice pre-empted her attempt to break the silence, addressing Robert instead.

“Your lady’s got a mind full of tricks; she needs to be set straight.”

Miley chuckled mischievously and couldn’t help but ask, “So, Mr. Winston, are you going to take one for the team and drink for Marguerite?”

His sly look fell upon Marguerite, his posture exuding an air of superiority, “Let her ask me herself.”

Post-drinks, Marguerite’s eyes were glazed with a slight buzz, but her mind was still clear.

What right did she have to ask Frederick to drink for her?

Even if she did ask, rejection was the most likely outcome without a second thought.

Marguerite was well aware of this, so to avoid the sting of refusal, she chose not to ask at all.

Without a word, her arm trembling slightly, she reached for the glass, ready to down the liquid fire herself.

But Frederick furrowed his brow, his long arm reaching out, utterly disregarding his previous stance of aloofness, and snatched the glass from Marguerite’s hand to drain it in one gulp.

The remaining two glasses were emptied just as swiftly.

Marguerite was taken aback, and even Miley and Robert showed faint signs of surprise.

Mr. Winston was only looking for a gesture from Marguerite, but she was as clueless as they come, completely oblivious.

They were practically at their wits’ end with frustration!

Miley was the first to recover, showering Frederick with praise, “Mr. Winston, what a tolerance for liquor! I always said you were a chivalrous man-how could you leave Marguerite in the lurch, right?”

Frederick certainly could hold his liquor, downing three shots without batting an eye, as smoothly as if it were water.

Marguerite, her eyes downcast, remained silent as a sullen gourd.

Miley nudged her with an elbow before turning to remind her, “Marguerite, don’t you think you owe someone a word of thanks?”

Marguerite, still tipsy from the drinks, didn’t catch Miley’s hint and thought she was being asked why she hadn’t sought Frederick’s help.

So, in a non-sequitur response, she said, “Even if I asked, he wouldn’t drink for me. Why bother?”

Before Miley could make sense of her reply, Frederick’s retort reached their ears, “Did you ask me?” Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

Marguerite repeated, “Even if I asked you, you wouldn’t have drunk for me, right?”

“So those last three drinks, were they for the dogs?”

In an instant, Marguerite felt as if a boulder was lodged in her throat, heavy and suffocating, leaving her speechless.

Almost bursting into laughter at the sight, Miley’s face was a picture of excitement as she quickly shared an amused glance with Robert.

He was rattled, clearly rattled!

Nothing seemed to faze Frederick quite like this, but Marguerite had become his exception!

With his concern so blatantly obvious, Miley was certain Marguerite had to notice it.

Miley surreptitiously squeezed Marguerite’s hand, signaling her to stay quiet, then turned to Frederick with a negotiating tone, “Mr. Winston, since you’ve already stepped in for Marguerite, you’re part of the game now. It wouldn’t be fair for Robert and me to gang up on her. How about this, Marguerite and I will play a game, and if we lose, you guys What do you say?”