Bride Behind The Mask (Frederick and Marguerite)

Chapter 688

Frederick wasn't the least bit surprised when Marguerite posed the question.

Ever since he'd returned home, this woman had been testing him over and over, her intentions as clear as day to Frederick. Now, it seemed like all the grievances and misunderstandings between him and Marguerite had found a way to be explained. Yet, he still kept his gaze lowered, at a loss for words.

In truth, Marguerite regretted her question the moment it left her lips. After all, Teresa wasn't Maurice's child, and certainly not Frederick's. So, Marguerite felt her question was shamelessly out of line. But then she remembered what Jocelyn had told her-

Frederick had been ready to confess his feelings for her, prepared even to raise the child in her womb as his own. But the one thing he couldn't stomach was that the father of the child she carried was Maurice, the man he considered his lifelong adversary. Now, with everything seemingly back to square one, Marguerite couldn't help but want to test the waters.

After much contemplation, Frederick finally resolved to address Marguerite's question directly, but his voice was filled with a helpless and sorrowful tone.

be honest, I don't

around the subject, she finally blurted out,

me resent you for three whole years. I want to believe it was all a terrible

the resentment he harbored. But what about their past, those beautiful moments they shared, didn't they deserve to be remembered? Why did he cling so tightly to his resentment, yet seemed to forget about their love? Was it because the bitterness was too intense, or because his feelings for her three years ago were not as profound as others

She knew the smile on her face probably looked uglier than tears. But she couldn't find the right expression or emotion to face him

her face. "What

He thought by sharing his truest thoughts, he would feel relieved, unburdened. But the moment he spoke, his heart

we really not stand a chance anymore?" Marguerite's tears silently rolled down her cheeks. She always cried like this, with extreme restraint. It made everyone think she was resilient and stubborn, stronger than any other woman. But only Marguerite knew the true extent of her