Holding onto the railing, he awkwardly smiled and said, "Nicholas is here too, when did you arrive?"
Nicholas Croft’s lips curved into a smirk, which on closer inspection, was a sneer.
If he hadn’t heard it with his own ears, he wouldn’t have believed that such a mother existed in the world, treating her own daughter as if she weren’t her own. No wonder Beatrice Hargrave was sent abroad to study at such a young age.
His large hand still gripping Beatrice’s wrist, he looked at the hypocritical woman on the stairs and slightly bent forward politely, saying, "Just arrived, Madam, sorry to intrude."
"Oh, it’s nothing, co in, co in, don’t just stand at the door," Josephine Hawthorne smiled as she walked down the stairs, and when she reached Henry Hargrave’s side, she chided unhappily, "Grayson, you too, Nicholas is here, and you didn’t even invite him to sit."
As they spoke, she walked over to Nicholas Croft, and when Nicholas led Beatrice Hargrave to the sofa, Josephine Hawthorne realized that Nicholas Croft’s hand... was holding Beatrice’s.
The smile on her face froze, her eyes fixated on that place, her steps coming to a halt.
Henry Hargrave had also refrained from speaking apart from chiding his daughter once, because he too noticed the intimate gesture between the two of them, staring intently at Nicholas Croft holding Beatrice’s wrist, squinting slightly with an inscrutable expression.
As they reached the sofa, Nicholas Croft finally let go of Beatrice, helped her remove the coat draped over her shoulders, and placed it on the armrest of the sofa before sitting down. His natural and intimate actions made it seem as if they had co to the Hargrave Family as guests together. Under the astonished gaze of the Hargrave couple, Nicholas Croft spoke casually, "Mr. Hargrave, I’ve brought Beatrice back for you."
"Oh, thank you, Nicholas," Henry Hargrave finally snapped out of it, sat back down on the sofa, and said courteously, "Thank you for the trouble," his gaze involuntarily drifting to the coat Nicholas draped over the sofa.
Seeing his wife still standing there dumbfounded, he lowered his voice to remind her, "Josephine, Nicholas is here, go brew a pot of tea."
"Oh, right, I’ll do that. Nicholas, please have a seat, I’ll go make so tea."
Josephine Hawthorne also ca to her senses, smiling politely before turning to head to the kitchen.
Nicholas Croft nodded slightly and said to Henry Hargrave, "Mr. Hargrave, I’ve found a few musicians to write a few songs for Beatrice, and I’d like to take her to the recording studio to try them out tomorrow."
Henry Hargrave glanced at Beatrice, who sat on the sofa intentionally maintaining a distinct distance from Nicholas Croft, her hands clasped together, bored as she played with her fingers.
Retracting his gaze, Henry Hargrave politely said once more, "Thank you for taking the trouble with Beatrice’s affairs, Nicholas."
"Not at all, it’s my honor to aid Mr. Hargrave’s daughter." Nicholas Croft’s words were impeccable, exemplifying a mature and steady man, whose rich social experience made him considerate.
Yesterday, he had just made things clear with Hannah Hargrave, which led to an argunt between the two sisters. To prevent any further trouble for Beatrice, he deliberately spoke this way, wanting Henry Hargrave to know that finding musicians for Beatrice was purely out of respect for him.
Henry Hargrave leaned back in the single sofa, and hearing Nicholas Croft speak in this way, the suspicion within his heart dissipated. Beatrice was still young, a full twelve years younger than Nicholas Croft, at such an age, there were really no common topics or interests.
Hannah Hargrave, on the other hand, was different. She was around Nicholas Croft’s age, and besides being so outstanding, if a man had to choose between the two sisters, any normal man would choose Hannah, not a child who hadn’t grown up yet.
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