Bride Behind The Mask Novel

Chapter 617
Frederick hadn’t once brought up the idea of getting married on the same day as Marguerite, let alone marrying Yuna.
“If memory serves, it’s you who had been saying that,” Frederick remarked, and Marguerite was momentarily flabbergasted,
Then it struck her, as she replayed the myriad of interactions with him over the past few days. He really hadn’t mentioned it, not
once.
But how had the rumor of his engagement to Yuna reached her ears?
It took her a moment, but then she pinpointed the source, Maurice. He’d been revealing “information” to her, even deliberately
leaking the false news of Frederick’s concurrent wedding plans. But after figuring out this, Marguerite was more puzzled than
ever.
Her face a picture of urgency, she pressed, “Even if it was all in my head, why didn’t you correct me when I brought it up?”
Frederick chuckled, “And what would that prove, exactly?”
Marguerite was momentarily stumped, words failing her. What did she want to prove? That Frederick had no intention of
marrying Yuna? Or that he still harbored some soft spot for her?
Marguerite had always been greedy when it came to him. She wanted to prove both, yet as the words reached her lips, she was
filled with hesitation, leaving her mute.
Frederick’s lips curled into a half-smile, his gaze fixed intently on her, a playful triumph
twinkling in his eyes.
He seemed to revel in her look of distress, as if it offered some outlet for the resentment
he felt over her past betrayal.
Miley, watching the verbal spar turn into an awkward silence, glanced between Marguerite
and Frederick.
Considering herself a guru in matters of the heart, she sensed an opportunity and, not one to miss a beat, decided to play cupid.

She pulled out her phone and shot a covert text to Robert sitting across the table:
[We can’t change Yuna’s situation, but we shouldn’t just give up. Let’s stop their
engagement.]
Robert glanced at his screen, his brow furrowing as he shot a puzzled look Miley’s way.
[What’s your angle now?]
Miley’s fingers danced across the keyboard, her face beaming with mischief. [First off, we get Mr. Winston sloshed, maybe even
cozy in bed. That should help him confront his true feelings, right? I mean, he and Marguerite haven’t ever hit the hay, have
they?]
Robert massaged his forehead in exasperation. [Getting Frederick drunk might be easier said than done. Might as well slip him a
pill.]
Miley shot back a look of disbelief. [Where am I supposed to get a pill at this hour? Just back me up, will ya? I refuse to believe
the two of us can’t outdrink him!]
After furiously typing her message, Miley flipped her phone face down with a flourish and gestured boldly to the waiter, “Excuse
me! Can we have a stack of beers – no, make that a dozen beers and a dozen shots of tequila!”
Marguerite, utterly baffled, turned to Miley and asked, “What’s the big idea?”
Miley quickly deflected, pointing at Robert and declaring, “He’s upset, needs to drown his
sorrows!”
The mere thought of tequila made Robert wince, but seeing Miley’s enthusiastic antics and her playful nudges, he played along,
“Er, yeah... I’m feeling a little blue...”
The waiter approached, offering a word of caution with a polite tone, “Ma’am, tequila is quite strong, high-proof. We recommend
enjoying it with a soft drink.”
Miley dismissed the suggestion with a grandiose wave of her hand, oozing confidence, “No chaser, we’ll take it straight!”