Chapter 558

Marguerite couldn’t help but force a polite smile through her discomfort.

Miley’s attempts at matchmaking were about as subtle as a bull in a china shop!

This blatant attempt at setting her up could easily give the wrong impression to the man in front of her, making it seem like she was in cahoots with Miley.

Feeling a twinge of guilt and eager to prove her innocence, Marguerite leaned forward and reached out, “Hand me the ointment, I can apply it myself.”

Frederick’s gaze was distant, pondering something as he locked eyes with Marguerite for a moment.

Finally, as if making up his mind, he commanded in a cool tone, “Sit tight.”

Sit tight? What did he mean by that?

Confusion swirled in Marguerite’s mind, and before she could process, she watched as Frederick pulled up a swivel chair next to her.

He gently lifted her right leg onto his knee, and without warning, peeled off her cotton socks.

A chill and her embarrassment made Marguerite’s exposed toes instinctively curl, followed by his next command, “Go close the window and set the thermostat to 77 degrees.”

Miley nodded vigorously, repeating “Right away!” three times before scampering off to close the window and adjust the heating.

Marguerite’s confusion only deepened.

What was this man thinking? Wasn’t he about to marry Yuna? Why was he fussing over her injury instead of getting ready for his wedding?

Marguerite’s gaze was innocent yet inquisitive, and whether it was the heat in the room or something else, her cheeks flushed a rosy hue Then, Frederick poured a dollop of soothing balm into his large, firm palm, rubbed his hands together, and applied it to Marguerite’s swollen ankle.

The warmth spread through her, and she looked up cautiously at Frederick tending to her, her heart beginning to race for reasons she couldn’t fathom. But her excitement was short-lived.

She remembered a month ago, when Yuna was injured on the construction site, and Frederick had also used balm to treat her wound.

Suddenly, Marguerite had a newfound respect for Frederick. He didn’t love Yuna, yet he was still willing to care for her injuries, and even marry her.

But as for herself, she couldn’t muster such magnanimity. Her emotions were a mess, but Miley, leaning provocatively against the desk, watched the two with a mischievous grin.

“Mr. Winston, did you know that in the old days, if a man saw a woman’s feet, he was expected to marry her? And you’ve not only seen Marguerite’s feet but touched them, too.” Marguerite struggled for breath. That damn Miley, always spouting nonsense!

Flushing deeper, Marguerite retorted, “That’s thousands of years ago, why are you bringing up ancient customs? He’s about to marry Yuna, don’t spout nonsense and make things awkward.”

Frederick’s hand paused in applying the ointment, and he looked up at Marguerite, sensing a hint of jealousy in her tone. He felt an odd sense of satisfaction, his eyes betraying an emotion Marguerite couldn’t decipher.

Marry Yuna? He never once agreed to take Yuna as his wife.

Last night’s confrontation with Mr. Hackett was too pressing, and Frederick, not wanting to engage in a futile argument, had chosen to ignore it.

The subsequent arrangements were all Mr. Hackett and Powell’s doing, nothing to do with him.

But now, the memory of Maurice carrying Marguerite away the night before stubbornly lingered in his mind.

His gaze cooled, and with an intent to tease her, he dodged revealing the truth and countered, “Whom I marry is none of your business, is it?”