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Chapter 9
Chapter 9
In the grand manor, Marina wept as if the sky itself were falling.
Upon seeing Gwendolyn and Roselind return, she wiped away her tears and said, “Madam, Mr. Bainbridge stormed into Howard’s room with a doctor and drew a whole syringe of blood.”
“Where are they now?”
“Still in the room.”
Roselind clutched her chest, her footsteps erratic as she bolted toward the staircase. In her haste, her high heels gave way, twisting her ankle. Gwendolyn quickly reached out to steady her.
“Thank you.” Roselind uttered, her voice tight and choked.
As they approached the corridor, they saw the master bedroom door ajar.
A young man with sharp, hawk–like eyes behind gold–rimmed glasses stood there. His hair was meticulously combed and he was dressed in the finest attire. A smirk played on his lips as he looked toward them. His gaze swept over Gwendolyn with a hint of frost.
“Roselind, so this is the country bumpkin you’ve brought in? Howard, once the pride of the heavens, has now settled for a village maiden?”
“Bainbridge, what exactly are you trying to do?” Roselind demanded coldly.
Bainbridge was smug. “I’m here on Warren’s orders to have the doctor check on Howard. Have you misunderstood something?”
“Are you done? Then please leave.”
“You shouldn’t speak to me like that. We have been tirelessly searching for Mr. White for years and always have more leads than your branch of the family.”
Warren had been seriously injured in his youth. With the coming winter, his limbs ached unbearably. After all the specialist doctors had failed to cure him, his hopes lay with the renowned Mr. White.
Satisfied by Roselind’s grimace, Bainbridge let out a smug laugh, “I’ll take my leave now.”
Bainbridge walked away with a triumphant air, the years of being overshadowed by Howard dissipated.
How could a cripple be fit to become the next heir of the Chadwick family?
Roselind bit her lip as she watched them leave, a sharp pain shooting through her ankle with
every step.
“Let me look at that,” Gwendolyn said, helping her sit down in the hallway. Her slender fingers skillfully manipulated Roselind’s ankle, “It’s okay, no bone damage.”
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It was unclear what she did, but with a few twists, Roselind was able to stand and walk.
Tears welled up in Roselind’s eyes as she looked towards the closed door, then turned her gaze to Gwendolyn, “Gwendolyn, could I ask you to take care of Howard for me? My foot will be fine. but he needs attention.”
A mother knows her child best.
After Bainbridge’s disturbance, who knew what state Howard was in?
He was too proud to let his kin see him in a moment of humiliation.
Gwendolyn, perceptive as ever, understood immediately.
She nodded solemnly and said, “I’ll go in. Marina, please help Mrs. Chadwick to rest.”
“Alright.”
Once they left, Gwendolyn turned the doorknob and entered.
The room was a mess, chaos everywhere.
Howard leaned against the bed, his profile noble and unmatched. His clothes were disheveled. stained with patches of blood. At the sound of her entrance, he turned slowly, his gaze sharp as the edge of the world’s sharpest blade, sending a chill down Gwendolyn’s spine.
“Roselind sent me to tidy up.”
Gwendolyn bent down to pick up the scattered pillows, papers, and a water glass, meticulously rearranging them.
Behind her, Howard’s deep voice resonated, “Are you here to clean the room, or to clean up after me?” He had intentionally smashed those items. What was there to clean?
If not for that, how could Bainbridge be convinced that he was mentally broken and utterly defeated?
Gwendolyn sharply looked up to see him nonchalantly beckoning her.
“I need to change my clothes.”
“Right.” Gwendolyn fetched a set of pure white cotton loungewear from the walk–in closet. When she was approaching Howard, he had already stretched out his hands expectantly.