Chapter 269: Not a Peaceful Death

When Harlan brought up the late-night meal, he saw Geoffrey and Isolde sitting in silence. He had anticipated this, so he quickly prepared the food and brought it up.

He smiled and said, “It’s hastily made and not very tasty. The noodles are leftovers from dinner. Just make do with it.”

Isolde smelled the fragrance and smiled. “It’s good to have something to eat.”

Harlan had made two plates of noodles. He was about to bring one over to Geoffrey, but Geoffrey lifted his blanket and said, “No need to bring it over. I’ll come and get it.”

“Can you get out of bed?” Harlan hurried over to support him. Geoffrey said, letting his legs dangle off the bed, “I’m fine, it’s nothing.” Isolde glanced over and saw how thin he had become. His calves, exposed under his pants, were nothing but skin and bones. She felt a pang of discomfort. Geoffrey seemed to notice and quickly pulled his pants back over his legs. Having been bedridden for so long, he was still wearing his sleeping clothes. When he stood up, his emaciated frame was evident beneath the loose sleeping robe. In just a month, he had lost a significant amount of weight. As he walked over, Isolde noticed that his face wasn’t pale, but rather sallow. The pale appearance earlier had been due to the distant light reflecting off his face as he lay in bed, unshielded. But in fact, his face was very sallow. Her heart sank. She had seen such a sallow complexion before—it was Ella from the village. Ella was seriously ill at that time, and her face was very pale. She passed away in less than a month.

Other than his injuries, was something wrong with him? Was he sick?

Geoffrey sat down, looking quite happy. “The smell of this has really whetted my appetite.”

Harlan smiled and said, “Eat more if you have an appetite. For the past few days, you have been eating a little every day. You can’t even drink soup. How can your body recover? You have to eat more.”

The Duke of Blackmoor picked up his fork and started eating. When he saw Isolde looking at him steadily, he called out, “Eat, you eat too.”

Isolde nodded and picked up her spoon to take a sip of the soup. The flavor was quite bland, tasteless—suitable for a patient.

Geoffrey didn’t speak, but he slowed down his eating as if waiting for Isolde or trying to prolong the meal. When he reached the last two bites, he put down his fork and quietly watched Isolde. Isolde, however, finished her bowl. “If you can’t eat anymore, don’t force yourself.”

Another bowl? Geoffrey asked. Isolde shook her head. “I’ve had enough.”

Geoffrey looked disappointed. “Oh, alright.”

He slowly picked up his fork and took another bite. But after that bite, he suddenly bent over and began vomiting violently. Harlan was terrified. He quickly brought the spittoon over, patting Geoffrey’s back. “Are you full? Stop eating. Why have you been vomiting recently? This isn’t good!”

Isolde watched him vomit in discomfort and heard Harlan’s words. She asked, “He’s been vomiting a lot recently?”

“Yes, for several days now. When we returned to the capital, I thought it was just motion sickness from the journey. But now that we’re settled, it’s still happening,” Harlan said, wiping Geoffrey’s mouth with a towel. After vomiting, everything he had eaten came back up, and his face turned from sallow to a sickly greenish-white. Isolde felt a twinge of pity. Perhaps she could arrange for him to escape to Belleview Manor. That place was under her sphere of influence. Even if the authorities came looking, they could quickly move him elsewhere.

Therefore, when Harlan went out to wash his things, she helped Geoffrey to the bed to rest and said, “I’ll arrange for you to escape to Belleview Manor.”

Geoffrey weakly shook his head. He was already comforted by her willingness to help him. “No, I won’t escape. I’m a military officer. Escaping would make me a deserter. I’d rather die than be a deserter.”

“But…” Isolde couldn’t bear it. Even if he confessed his crime to the King, there was no guarantee of leniency. “If the King is furious, your life might still be in danger.”

Geoffrey smiled. “I don’t care anymore. In this life, I’ve already gained what I needed. Compared to others, I’ve been very fortunate. If the King really decides to punish me, I’ll finally be able to join your mother. All these years, I’ve been like a walking corpse…” He sighed softly, his gaze distant. “I miss her terribly.”

Isolde remained silent. Her heart ached.

“Sit down,” Geoffrey said, looking at her. After a long silence, he added, “I want to tell you about your mother.”

Hearing that he wanted to talk about her mother, Isolde instinctively sat down. After sitting, she realized she was on the edge of the bed and moved back slightly. Recently, she had heard a little about her mother, but she could not get enough of it. She wanted to know everything—her mother’s appearance, her personality, what she had done, what she had said, who she had interacted with. She wanted to know it all. And in this world, perhaps no one knew her mother better than him.

Geoffrey’s face gradually lit up. Being able to freely talk about the person he had longed to speak of for so many years, to indulge in memories of her, was a kind of happiness in itself. In the past, he had always feared that his longing would overwhelm him, that the grief would be too much. Whenever he thought of her, he would look at her portrait and then quickly divert his attention. The pain of not daring to think of her—he had endured it for so many years.

“I fell in love with her at first sight. Others might not believe it, thinking I was after the Sharp family’s power, but that wasn’t the case. I still remember clearly the first time I saw her. She was wearing an emerald green satin dress, her hair tied in double buns. Her features were delicate, yet there was a hint of playfulness in her expression. At the time, she didn’t pay me any attention. I was just a soldier under Garrett’s command—how could I possibly catch her eye? But that one glance made me fall deeply in love. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but if I don’t, there’s no one else who will listen…”

Isolde listened intently, especially to the stories of how her parents fell in love. She was completely captivated.

“At the time, your grandfather didn’t want to marry her to me. He even tried to arrange another marriage for her. Your mother was stubborn. When she heard that your grandfather wanted to marry her off to someone else, she caused a scene in the mansion. She declared that if he finalized another marriage, she would find a way to tie him up and send him off in the wedding sedan. Your grandfather was furious but had no choice. After she starved herself for a few days, he finally agreed…”

Isolde laughed out loud.

Geoffrey looked at her. “You’ve said something like that before, remember?”

Isolde remembered that at that time, he wanted to marry her to Helena’s husband.

“You and your mother look alike, and your personalities are similar…” Geoffrey’s voice gradually softened. “But your mother, because she loved me, didn’t want to make things difficult for me. So she didn’t fight back with all her might, and in the end, she was harmed by Prudence.”

In the end, his anger and hatred were unbearable. He almost gritted his teeth as he said, “She must not die a peaceful death!”

Isolde remained silent. She wouldn’t let Prudence die peacefully, but not for his sake. That was her hatred.