Mrs Beauregarde Novels & Stories

Wonder. We also have The board chair lady of light stone Pharmaceuticals group of companies Miss Mayfair Douglas, Mrs. Rosaline Douglas, she is the Managing Director of Prince architect consort is also here Then we have MISS Justine Douglas she is the director of a famous treasure shop at the Railway station. The room roared with applauds. We have all the beautiful ladies of Business administration class at the central university and we have the male classmates of the same class lastly we have Miss Beatrice aka Bee small she is the managing director of Doutina Estate development Agency. Ladies and gentlemen, you are all welcome.

Morris opened one of the files and there's a picture of her there. "I never thought this is your type." Archer said and I sighed. I took all of the files and read them one by one. I sat down and gestured to them to sit down. "Explain Matthew." Morris said but I gestured to him to wait. I put one file on the table and showed it to them. "Read.." I pointed. "Who's Mrs. Beckervil?" Morris asked. "Kard told Scarlette that Mrs. Beckervil is his grandmother when they both don't have any relation at all."

Instructing myself, I took a deep breath, regaining my posture, applied a little makeup and walked out. I didn’t want to ruin my first meeting with her. As I walked out, I heard her chirpy tone echoing in the hall. “Why didn’t you wait for me? Why were you in such a hurry to marry?!” He was dying to take revenge. A smile came to my lips. I had talked to Jacey on call and she sounded sweet. I hope she’d be like that in reality too. “Ah, but it was so beautiful. Where is she? I want to see her.” She beamed. I almost chuckled to watch the woman of my age, almost jumping in enthusiasm.

“Yes, yes, that’s all well and good,” she said, waving her hand like she was trying to wave away the last few words I had said. “Come inside and I’ll tell you about some interesting investments. I’m sure you will agree they’ll be worth your time.” I followed her into the house. The butler stayed at the door, closing it behind us. Despite Adelaide’s apparent friendliness toward me, Beauregard remained cold.

Stephen suddenly shouted, “Master, this young lady actually bet…” James waved his hand, interrupting Stephen’s words. Then, he walked over to the elegant woman and said, “Thank you!” The elegant woman smiled and replied, “If you win, I’ll be the one who’s grateful.” James nodded lightly. Afterward, he looked at the elder standing at Beauregard’s entrance and said, “Please be our witness, sir. We’ll be Mount Martialis’ representatives.”

"Mom, take it easy. You're almost in your seventies now. Aren't you afraid of being laughed at if news gets out?" "Are you kidding me? Who dares to laugh at me?" Margaret remembered that there was an outsider in the house, Loraine. After all, Edric was a president of a company, and Margaret shouldn't slap him in front of Loraine. Hence, she glared at Loraine. Immediately, Loraine stepped out instantly but the truth was, she did not go far. She waited at the door to see what would happen.

"Hello, Ma'am. I'm accompanying Mister Lucas here today, and I'm also the new secretary of his company. My name is Corinne Carew." Missus Benet's sharp eyes scanned Corinne from top to bottom. "Are you wearing 'Spirit in the Mist' from Comi's newest range of dresses this season?"

Everything was elegant and surprisingly big for such a small woman. Camille eyed me for a while with an unreadable expression on her face before saying, "We would be expecting a guest. This isn't just any guest so I need you and Margaret to be extra." Margaret was the cook and she always needed us to be extra so what was so different about this one. Who was this guest? I nodded once showing I understood what she had said, just the way she taught me. Everything had to be done just the way she had taught. She eyed me again then hesitated.

Just a fact offered at a dinner table the way facts are offered when you are somewhere safe enough to offer them. Margaret looked at him. Something passed across her face. Soft and quick. "He did," she said. "Badly at first. Then quite well." "Roast chicken," Beckett said. "Among other things." She looked at me. "Did he tell you about the beef bourguignon." "The hate crime against French cuisine," I said. Margaret laughed. It was a real laugh. Not the practiced social kind. The kind that comes out before you decide to let it.

Six months ago that world had been my address. Now it was a Tuesday morning appointment. I rang the bell. The woman who opened the door was somewhere in her sixties — elegant in the French way that looked effortless and was almost certainly not, with the direct gaze of someone who had spent decades in rooms full of people trying to impress her and had long since lost interest in being impressed. "Madame Beaufort," I said. "I'm Elara Kingsley. We spoke on the phone." "Yes." She looked at me with the focused assessment of someone deciding something quickly. "Come in."