Bride Behind The Mask (Frederick and Marguerite)

Chapter 462

Marguerite fumbled with her seatbelt. She was confused.

Frederick, it seemed, didn’t dislike her as much as she had imagined.

A small thrill of victory zipped through her as she pondered this.

But then, as if on cue, fat snowflakes began to flutter down from the sky, quickly blanketing the streets and bringing traffic to a standstill, trapping the two of them on the road.

Marguerite had dashed out in such a rush that she only threw a peacoat over her usual dress, she didn’t even put on socks.

She felt a chill creeping in, her hands, now rosy with the cold, rubbed together for warmth.

Then came the “click” of a button being pressed, and the next thing she knew, a wave of warm air enveloped her. Suddenly, her heart felt a touch warmer, and she turned to the man beside her to ask, “Are you cold, too?”

“Mhm.” Frederick’s reply was terse, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, a picture of icy detachment.

Yet, the next moment, his eyes inadvertently flicked towards Marguerite’s exposed ankles, just beyond her boots, and his expression tightened ever so slightly.

In truth, Marguerite wanted to ask if Frederick had turned on the heat just for her, but his response made her feel like she was reading too much into it.

mood lifted, and even the snowy scene outside

was secretly grateful for the blizzard that had stranded them together, cocooned in the tight space of the car, making Frederick seem so much

illusion, but she couldn’t help wanting it to

wishes often go ungranted, and Maurice Winston’s ill-timed

Marguerite a bunch of messages, all of which

rare peace inside the car, forcing

you? When are you coming back?” Maurice’s

it to you

are you playing at? I know you’re with Frederick!

the engine, and only then realized that the traffic had begun to

I’ll be right there.” Marguerite hung up, frustration lacing

who had called, and she

taking her home. Instead, he took a turn at the next junction, heading in the opposite direction of the Winston Mansion.

was puzzled. “Aren’t we

eyes deep and

a suggestion. “How about the Bluebell

intended to confess his feelings to her three years ago, and she wanted

decision not to take her home didn’t seem to bother her. On the other, why was she so eager to go to Bluebell Bistro? He wasn’t particularly keen, as the place held memories he’d rather forget.

found himself pulling