A Lady Of Rooksgrave Manor นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I quickly took my purse from my bedside table and walked majestically down the stairs, and over to the door, opened it slowly, and stood transfixed on the spot. Right in front of me was a long shiny spotless black limousine, and a handsome man with a perfectly tailored black suit standing beside it. His lips were moving but I was too busy checking him out to listen to whatever he had to say. He smiled patiently and said it again, this time a little bit louder than before. "Miss Richards?" he asked with a brief flicker of the eyelid. "Oh my God, did he just flirt with me?" my senses came back that instant. “composure girl” I muttered to myself.

Too bad there weren’t many wolves to liven this place up. She turned in the direction where she heard the light switch, seeing a suited young man standing there. He must be the butler, then who is this lady? “Miss Edwina. Are you the woman that master is expecting?” “Yes, I am. My name is Edwina Sinclair…” Before Edwina could finish her sentence, the woman took her hand and turned it over to see the palm side. With the way she did it, Edwina already knew what she was looking for. After checking, the lady looked up at her with pity.

Earlier today, his men had called and informed him about something that was going on at the Gray mansion. The image he was staring at was none other than the image of Roseline walking out of R’s Boutique she had visited today. The old man was not too bothered about the fact that she was walking out of the boutique, instead he had his attention focused on the face of the little girl that looked so much like dead niece- Ruby Walker. Just as he was staring at the laptop screen, the door to his study room opened and an old man dressed in butler suit with a tray on his hand walked in, he looked to be around the same age as the old man sitting behind the desk walked in.

Robin adverts his gaze away from hers. '' You coward,'' stated the woman looking at him furrowing her brows. '' Coward? Why are you calling him a coward? Who are you?'' Lucy asked. '' She's the guest whose an honor I am giving the party for. She's my fiancee who got back from London just today. The famous painter, Christina Jones,'' introduced Nicholas clapping for her. All the other guests did the same but Gray and Olivia were both confused about why she kept grabbing onto Robin's collar. '' What are you doing dear? Leave him alone,'' Nicholas said again.

“What are you doing to the roses, Miss?” Frowning, Hera bit her lips. ‘Nothing, you old buffoon!’ “Let’s go. The office is waiting for you.” The woman once again grabbed her by the shoulder and led her to the right path. They only had to walk for five more minutes before they’re face to face with a handsome-looking manor. It had glasses for a window and a sliding door where Patrick Hemmingworth was now standing, beaming, his hands outstretched. “Ah, just the lady I was waiting for.”

“I promise I won’t lie to you again in the future. I really had a tough time. I had to rack my brains to keep covering my tracks, but the lies only snowballed.” “I thought you lied so much that it became your nature.” Zachary let out a low chuckle. In the end, his lies really became natural. Wildridge Manor was enormous. Due to time constraints, the eldest missus of the York family, could not finish strolling around the manor on her first visit. Liberty’s breakfast diner would be opening tomorrow, so the lady herself declined the York family’s offer for her to stay. Liberty once again got into Duncan’s car and left the manor to return to the city.

"Hello." Shortly after she stepped into the mansion’s courtyard, a rather plump middle-aged lady wearing a neat dress approached her. The lady introduced herself with a warm smile, “Good to see you, Miss Isabel. I am the caretaker of the house. My name is Rox.” Isabel greeted her politely, “Nice to meet you, Aunt Rox.” "Oh, don’t be so formal! Come, your room has been prepared for you. Please follow me." Isabel followed her into the rather modern mansion.

They left the door with a hinge on its jamb, which is how this city says: you are counted. At noon, they met Rooke’s matriarch at the family’s quieter entrance, the one a cousin uses when he has been persuaded to behave. Peregrine Rooke arrived with a violin case and a coat that had cost him nothing and a face that hoped his aunt would not ruin the afternoon with sentences. “My darling,” she said, and the word darling served its useful purpose of warning him that he was loved by a serious woman. “This is Ms. Cross. This is Lord Valehart. This is Aunt Isolde. That is the hinge. Sit down.”

She stood up, dusting her lower skin which the gown attached to. “Would go get the Book of Rules.” I eyed her closely as she attempted to walk past me and get going. Inhaling in readiness to confront her, I held her arms back. On the spot, her eyes bolted. I looked down to her lips which trembled softly. “W-what are you-- do you need something else, Lady Ava?” “That evil Rook…she’s threatening you, isn’t she?” I asked immediately. “Milady w-what? I have no idea of what you’re talking about.”

Ivan opens the door. A woman stands there — tall, poised, wrapped in a charcoal coat that probably costs more than my entire wardrobe. Her hair is pinned in a sleek twist, her expression unreadable. She carries a leather folder and a rolling suitcase. “Good morning,” she says, voice crisp and unmistakably British. “I’m Sylvia Pembroke. Lady Kingsley’s assistant.” Her presence fills the apartment instantly — not loud, not dramatic, just… commanding. Like she’s used to walking into rooms and having people rearrange themselves around her.