Chapter 415 – Second Chance Love of the Missing Groom Novel

Abigail was woken the next day, she opened her groggy eyes…

to the sight of the row of servants standing by her bed.

She promptly sprang up, her head clearing up right then.

“What…”

She then spotted the towering form, who was speaking into the phone while still in his pajamas, standing at the balcony.

He continued his conversation for over ten minutes before hanging up, and he waited for a while before entering.

Seeing that Abigail was awake, he said, “I had Stan prepare those gowns.Pick the one you like.”

Abigail remembered then that they were supposed to attend a grand ceremony and she pulled off her blanket to get out of bed.

There were three gowns: one was elegant, one had attitude, while the last one was risque but feminine.

“The black one,” Abigail said, naturally picking the one with attitude.

There were sets of jewelry too, and Diarmuid walked up, pointing at the nude-colored diamond set.

“That fits.”

The somber of blackness needed something shiny to shine.

Rubies or sapphires would only blend into the backdrop and fade, while the contrast between nude and black had a greater contrast, and her youthfulness would help.

Abigail looked at him, her lips parting in a faint smile, “Okay.Let’s go with that.”

“I’ll be leaving first since I have work to do.Stan will be here with someone to help with your makeup after breakfast.I’ll come to get you around ten.”

With that, he headed to his wardrobe.

Abigail had no idea if those were borrowed, and she had the servants put them down for the time being.She headed downstairs to the kitchen, and Pierre arrived, asking, “‘ How can I help, ma’am?”

“I was just thinking about making some scrambled eggs and warm milk,” thuyAbigail replied.

“I’ll get the cook to—”

“It’s fine.I can do it.”

Diarmuid definitely had not had breakfast, and he was already in a hurry to leave, so she cooked both at the same time.

She was done just as Diarmuid arrived downstairs, and she put everything on the table.Eat something before you leave.”

While Diarmuid walked over to her, Pierre was going to pull out a chair when Abigail smiled.

“I’m fine on my own here.You can go about your other work.”

Taking his cue, Pierre kept his head lowered as he left, while Abigail pulled out a chair for Diarmuid.As he sat down, she stood behind him and said, “Try it.I made it, and you know I rarely cook.”

“Indeed.”

She would always be in a hurry to get to work in the mornings, so it was Mrs.Watson who prepared breakfast,   and they would be out of the house once they finished breakfast.

Diarmuid naturally humored her and had the eggs first.

It was just plain scrambled eggs and hardly as good as Mrs.Watson’s cooking, but he found it exquisite.

Wrapping her arms around his neck from behind, Abigail asked mildly, “Is it good?”

“Yeah,” Diarmuid replied.

“You have to eat breakfast no matter how busy it gets, or it’d be bad for your stomach,” Abigail told him.

Diarmuid turned and put his hand on hers.

“Got it.”

“You should leave if you’re finished.Don’t let me keep you,” she said.

She was going to pull away, but Diarmuid held her in place, He then tugged at him firmly, pulling her to him and kissing her on the lips.

He deliberately wiped the oil from the eggs to her lips before letting her go in satisfaction, rising to his feet and wiping his lips elegantly with his napkin.

“I’m going now.”

Abigail wiped her lips as well, muttering grumpily, “Childish.”

And yet, there was a blissful smile over her face.

Stan Hill arrived with the makeup artist after breakfast and Abigail sat before her makeup table, not moving an inch cooperatively.

“Let’s keep it light,” she said, worried that the makeup artist would go overboard.

“Don’t worry.You can have faith in me,” the makeup artist said.

” Your facial features are perfect and I already have an idea what to do—your satisfaction is guaranteed.”

“Well, I’m counting on you,” Abigail replied.

Her eyes were clear and spirited, which did not need much enhancement.

Merely a thin stroke of eyeliner and a soft eyeshadow was enough to accentuate her mild alluring appearance.

Even so, she did not appear all coquettish, but it was a sharp presentation of her feminine charms instead.

Her black hair had natural curls, and it all made her look as if she had gone through a lot of effort prettying up when she did not actually do so.

After over an hour later, her hair and makeup was mostly done.

The makeup artist looked at Abigail’s reflection in the mirror, feeling proud of her own work because Abigail was just so beautiful.

It was around half past nine, and Abigail still had to put on her gown and jewelry.It was ten by the time she was done.

“Perfect,” the makeup artist said.

Abigail thought so too—it was precisely what she wanted.

Lifting her skirt, she stepped outside with Stan in tow, where a Bentley Mulsanne limousine was waiting.

It was more gentlemanly than any imposing Rolls, its subtle solemness not losing out in grandness! Stan opened the door for her, and as she entered, the slit to her left opened upwards slightly, baring her thigh.

It was slightly alluring, but nothing too risque.

As Diarmuid looked toward it, Abigail hid it while saying, “I’m not used to it.”

Diarmuid handed her a blanket to cover it, and Abigail caught his hand when he leaned toward her.

Diarmuid looked up into her eyes.

“Nervous?” Abigail nodded.

“Just stay with me,” Diarmuid assured her.

“You don’t have to say a word.”Even so, she got the increasing feeling that they were not a match, because she was not the type who could walk side-by-side with her husband.Everything he had, he fought for, whereas she enjoyed the good things he brought her, never once doing anything for all the success.Taking a deep breath, she joked, “Do I look the part of a trophy wife?”

Diarmuid understood what she was getting at and raised a brow.

“You stand among the best in your field and wouldn’t lose out to me, get it? It’s my honor to have you as my wife, since you’re much nobler than I am, saving lives while I carry the stink of being dirty rich.”

Abigail certainly felt inferior at first, but she became confident again after hearing him out.

“Really?”

“Of course,” Diarmuid replied with assurance, and put an arm around her shoulder.

“Calm down—I’m with you.” Abigail smiled.

“Well, I’m not afraid. You’re on cleanup duty if I do mess up.”

It was quite a while when the Bentley finally stopped and a valet arrived to open the door for them.

Diarmuid alighted first, and held out his hand to her. thuyShe took it and arched her back as she stepped out before looking up at the building up front.

The building was at once grand and stylish.

It was only natural since they were in Franconia, a city where the old met the new and where innumerable historical events occurred.

Such a place of romance naturally would leave people forgetting to leave.

Still, they were not visiting some famous tourist spot, but attending a banquet held by the Gallads, an influential dynasty.

Everyone attending was rich or important, and Diarmuid already told Abigail about the situation.

Diarmuid wanted company because Stan had received information that this was not the usual social occasion attended by high society.

Rumor had it that the Gallads were out looking for the right suitor since the family business was in the midst of a crisis, and they were planning to arrange a marriage that would get them out of a bind.

Those who were aware naturally did not want to be picked —they had every right to refuse, but that would be a slight to the family.

All Abigail had to do was play the role of a wife, which she was by wrapping her arms around his intimately.

Security was tight since the Gallads would not want any random person making it inside, and entry required the presentation of an invitation.

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