Both of them didn’t talk much on the way and drove the car back to the house.
Just as they entered the house, Mrs. Brown greeted them with guilt and panic in her tone.
“Ma’am, how is little miss?”
“Mrs. Brown, don’t worry, it’s nothing serious, just a simple cold and some fever,”
“It’s all my fault.” Mrs. Brown blamed herself, “I didn’t take care of Little Miss at night, that’s why she got sick, this morning she vomited milk, I didn’t find it in time either, it’s all my fault.”
“It’s not your fault, it’s my fault for not doing my duty as a mother.”
Blanca Roach’s tone was low, and she carried Alice straight upstairs with a heavy face.
In any case, Alice’s illness had made her feel like she had failed in her duties as a mother.
It was her dream to do well in that job, and it was also a way to prove her worth.
But she had neglected her Alice because of her work, and she would have felt guilty if Alice had been seriously ill this time.
Matthew Grant stared at the figure going upstairs, his eyes deep in color.
“You go prepare some porridge and bring it upstairs to the nursery later.”
“Okay, young master.”
He sighed lightly and followed behind him into the nursery, and with a glance that saw the person squatting in front of the crib.
Blanca Roach looked at Alice’s face, the sickly redness of her cheeks from the fever.
There was suddenly some wetness in the corners of her eyes and she grabbed the corner of the quilt and murmured.
“Little Alice, it’s hard for you, isn’t it? It’s mom’s fault for not taking good care of you.”
“It’s not your fault.”
Matthew Grant’s voice was low and his words were heartfelt as he walked over and took her into his arms, placing his other hand on her head and rubbing it.
“Well, Blanca don’t blame yourself, you’ve done a good job.”
“But I haven’t been taking good care of her all these days.”
Blanca Roach arched into his arms again and said in a jarring voice, “If I had been with her who last night, maybe she wouldn’t have gotten sick.”
“That’s not necessarily true, you don’t know how many times you kick the covers at night, did our Alice learn from you?”
“Nonsense!” Blanca Roach laughed out loud at the exasperation and lightly punched Matthew Grant’s arm, “Alice didn’t learn that from me.”
“If she didn’t, she didn’t. Madam said so.”
Matthew Grant curved the corners of his mouth, his eyes doting as he scooped up the person in his arms, his tone suddenly becoming serious.
“So Blanca, now will you grant me a request?”
“Hmm?” Blanca Roach frowned and pondered for a while before speaking, “What request?”
“Have a meal first later, I know you’re worried about Alice, but for your own health, you can’t skip meals.”
“That’s a request that can barely be granted.”
Blanca Roach leaned against the side of the bed, squinting and smiling at Matthew Grant’s jawline.
She had seen the side of Matthew Grant’s face many times, but this was the only time she saw something different that made her whole heart flutter.
“What is madam doing looking at me like that?”
“Nothing.” She took Matthew Grant’s hand, interlocked her fingers and whispered, “I was afraid you would run away.”
“Idiot, why would I run away.”
Matthew Grant eyes more than a trace of doting smile, pulled her whole body along the hand into the arms circle, chin on the top of her head, tone low and deep affection.
“If you run, you’ll have to run first, and then I’ll catch you back and tether you to me.”
Blanca Roach shook her head, muttering under her breath.
“I’m not running, not in this lifetime.”