Chapter 972 When Is The Wedding?

Madame Brighthall’s smile blossomed from her lips, and suddenly it seemed like spring had dawned on a face fraught with illness. She even coughed less. “Go and make them some nice, warm chicken soup. By the time they are inside, they’ll have something to enjoy.” The maid caught her mistress’s infectious joy. “Okay, ma’am. But please, you stay in here and don’t go out to join in on the fun, okay? It’s very cold out there,” she reminded Madame Brighthall. “Unless, well… they take too long, I guess.” “I know, dear.” The older woman ran her finger through her hair bun and shot an annoyed look at the maid as if a little disgruntled. “What was that supposed to mean? I’m not a kid, you know. I’ve long grown bored of snow. Why would I want to get out there and join in on the fun?” The maid tittered and left. Deirdre and Brendan did not spend too much time out there, either—the weather was just too cold. Brendan could tell from the way her hand started to lose warmth, so he led her insid