Beatrice Hargrave turned her head to look at Nicholas Croft’s profile, hesitantly pursing her lips, "I’ve told you, I’ll give you a surprise on our wedding night. Then you’ll know everything."
Nicholas Croft tightened his large hand intertwined with Beatrice Hargrave’s, and sighed lightly, "Alright then, I’ll be waiting."
Seeing Nicholas Croft’s obviously disappointed expression, a playful gleam flashed in Beatrice Hargrave’s eyes as she asked with a smile, "Uncle, we’re about to register our marriage. Do you feel sorry for your Lara?"
After asking, Beatrice Hargrave clearly felt Nicholas Croft’s grip tighten on her hand. Tilting her head to look at his profile, she didn’t want to miss any subtle expression.
Nicholas Croft didn’t answer imdiately. He bit his lip, looked ahead, took a deep breath, and as he exhaled, Beatrice Hargrave clearly heard him sigh. He inhaled again, exhaled with a puff, and in a helpless manner, asked, "If I say I do, will you be upset?"
Beatrice Hargrave secretly raised an eyebrow, magnanimously said, "How could I be? It shows Uncle is loyal. I’m happy for that."
"I’m relieved you think that way," Nicholas Croft brought their intertwined hands to his lips and gently kissed them, feeling a burden lifted.
Nicholas Croft admitted that keeping Sophie Foster buried in his heart was unfair to Beatrice Hargrave. But he couldn’t erase her, perhaps because of the guilt towards Sophie Foster that lingered in his heart, even though he had punished that bad person.
Every ti Beatrice Hargrave hugged his neck to act cute, he’d think of Sophie Foster doing the sa before, calling him uncle incessantly.
Looking ahead, Beatrice Hargrave pouted triumphantly. After all these years, Uncle Nicholas still kept her in his heart. He was truly a loyal and dedicated man. And he was so protective of her, just now boldly defending her in front of Josephine Hawthorne; truly impressive!
Thinking of Josephine Hawthorne, Beatrice Hargrave suddenly rembered sothing important and turned to ask tentatively, "Uncle, Hannah Hargrave got drugged that night too, right?"
"Mm,"
Nicholas Croft tightened his grip on Beatrice Hargrave’s intertwined hand, holding the steering wheel with one hand, focusing ahead.
"Did you see the man who helped her solve it?"
Beatrice Hargrave was really curious, though she didn’t want to gossip, but still—
That night she heard oh-oh sounds coming from Hannah Hargrave’s room. If Uncle Nicholas told her which man helped solve it, she’d bring him to Hannah, guarantee she’d be fuming.
"There was no man," Nicholas Croft said blandly. Beatrice Hargrave was stunned for a few seconds, thinking she heard wrong, and frowned asking, "What did you say?"
"There weren’t any other n that night. Hannah solved it herself."
Beatrice Hargrave was even more confused, raised her other hand to scratch her forehead asking, confused, "How did she solve it herself?" She heard there were things sold online, did Hannah carry it everywhere with her? If so, just thinking about it is disgusting.
Nicholas Croft raised their intertwined hands and showed his middle finger, "Probably with this."
Beatrice Hargrave
stared in shock at Nicholas Croft’s outstretched finger, she wasn’t naive... Uncle Nicholas had teased her like this before, but...
A woman using her own finger... It seems a bit...
She shivered in disgust, shaking her head dismissively, "I really didn’t expect Hannah, such a high-class woman, would be so disgusting!"
Nicholas Croft chuckled lightly, not comnting. In that situation, Hannah likely already lost consciousness.
"Uncle! Since you know Hannah used her finger to solve it, why not tell them the truth?" Beatrice Hargrave suddenly turned to question. If Uncle told her family the truth, that shaless Hannah would have no face left!
"Beatrice, Hannah is still a woman. It’s better to be considerate and avoid awkwardness when eting face-to-face later."
"Hmph, you’re too kind-hearted. She shalessly set you up and you still think of saving her face!" Beatrice Hargrave turned away in displeasure, simultaneously freeing her hand from Nicholas’s grip, "If I hadn’t kindly sent you back to your room that night, you’d have been defiled by Hannah!"
Nicholas Croft felt amused, people usually say won are defiled by n, not n by won.
"Don’t worry, Uncle has strong self-control."
As soon as Nicholas Croft said that, Beatrice Hargrave snorted disdainfully, "Hmph, sure! Did you forget when you pressed against the wall and kissed fiercely that night?"
"No, Uncle hasn’t forgotten, Uncle was still sowhat rational then. Otherwise, I would’ve used you as the antidote that night." Nicholas Croft grasped her hand again, intertwining their fingers, and looked ahead, his words showing slight helplessness.
"Hmph, all excuses, saying it’s to save Hannah’s face, simply ans you still have feelings for her!"
Listening to Beatrice Hargrave’s nonstop nagging, Nicholas Croft smiled helplessly, "Little one, you used to be quite docile. Today I discovered you hide it well," like a little hen clucking at Josephine Hawthorne, "No wonder Evander warned not to be fooled by your pure appearance. Seems I’ve been quite blind."
"Not just blind, utterly oblivious, Uncle Evander is much smarter!" Beatrice Hargrave glared at Nicholas Croft with a double entendre.
"Alright, darling wife, your husband is wrong. It’s the first mistake, let it go this ti, will you forgive him?" Nicholas Croft pulled Beatrice Hargrave’s hand to his lips, kissing her hand back, patiently admitting fault.
No choice, with a wife this young, he had to indulge her.
Beatrice Hargrave pursed her lips smugly, clearly shy, "What husband and wife, I haven’t registered with you yet!"
"Alright, it’s the husband’s fault. Now that work’s over, we’ll register at the civil bureau first thing tomorrow morning."
Beatrice Hargrave turned her head to look at Nicholas Croft’s profile, her fair face blooming with a happy, sweet smile.
The next morning, Nicholas Croft drove Beatrice Hargrave to the civil bureau to queue. With his ability, he could have a registration arranged by his assistant. But he wanted to handle it personally, to show the importance.
As the staff prepared to take photos, Beatrice Hargrave kept rubbing her fingers, whispering, "Uncle, I’m so nervous."
"Don’t worry, sweetie, Uncle’s first ti too." Nervousness wasn’t just hitting Beatrice Hargrave, Nicholas Croft felt it too, his palm on her shoulder sweating.
Watching them speak, heads subtly shifting, the staff amusedly said, "With your status, you should be used to the spotlight, right? It’s just a quick photo, relax a bit, okay?"
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