Chapter 1208

A line of people stood outside the gates, their heads bowed, fear etched on their faces. They had once caused a disturbance at Highstone Estate. Before them stood burly men, their fists so large they seemed capable of crushing skulls.

As Thomas dismounted, his cold gaze swept across them, a chilling smile playing on his lips. His formidable presence weakened their legs with dread. They huddled together, too afraid to meet his icy stare. Trevor had ordered the gates opened.

Mildred, upon hearing that the Farrell family had arrived to propose marriage, felt her spirits lift. She immediately ordered hot water for a bath, instructing her servants to prepare her clothes and makeup, eager to meet them.

Rosalind, however, remained unaware. For days, her grandfather had confined her to Amber Hall, forbidding servants from relaying the outside rumors. She outwardly appeared calm—reading, admiring the snow, sipping coffee—but inwardly struggled. She believed she could handle it gracefully, but the rumors overwhelmed her.

Yet, she didn't crumble. Her resilience stemmed from countless books, from the lives of struggle and strength within their pages. She understood that everyone faced difficult paths, that life rarely followed a straight line, and hardship was inevitable. She knew, too, that happiness followed trials, just as difficult moments eventually passed.

She reassured herself that indifference to the rumors would render them harmless. Furthermore, she had long accepted the possibility of never marrying; it didn't matter. The warmth of the silver charcoal stove filled the room. With practiced ease, she prepared coffee, her movements smooth and serene. Hearing distant drums and trumpets, she paused, then offered a faint, bitter smile. They were clearly attempting to attract a crowd beyond mere storytelling at the gate.

Chapter 1200

“Ms. Rosalind!” Josie, her maid, burst in, her eyes sparkling. “General Farrell has come to propose! He brought Mrs. Murray as a matchmaker, and the gifts—oh, there are so many!”

The cup crashed to the table; Rosalind's pale hand trembled. “General Farrell?”

“General Thomas Farrell!” Josie exclaimed, understanding her mistress’s heart. Rosalind had never truly let go of Thomas.

Rosalind breathed deeply. “How could this be?”

“It’s true! Mr. Trevor even opened the gates to welcome him! I swear it’s no mistake.” Josie's voice was thick with emotion.

Rosalind rose, ready to rush out, then paused. Taking a deep breath, she returned to her seat, her heart pounding. She couldn't go out—not yet—unless her grandfather summoned her.

Days of irregular meals had left her pale, but now, a flush crept onto her cheeks—a vivid, breathtaking red, like autumn winds through a maple grove.

She steadied herself, a bittersweet smile touching her lips. Thomas was a good man. He knew of the rumors and had come to protect her. She was deeply moved and grateful. His kindness warmed her like a fire on a cold night.

Yet, she couldn't accept him. She felt unworthy. When his assignment remained uncertain—whether to the Southern Frontier or Victory Pass—she couldn't bear to leave her family. Therefore, she felt she didn't deserve his kindness, having let him go then.

Rosalind's thoughts were chaotic, but gratitude was clearest. His arrival felt like a hero's descent, rescuing her. It was a scene countless women dreamed of, now unfolding in her life.

Chapter 1209