Chapter 78 Green Vein Operation 11 Leniency for Confession?

The Hesser woman was still half-conscious, unable to tell whether the relentless game or the kiss was more thrilling. Perhaps it couldn't even be called a kiss; it was too intense, too quick. Besides those eyes that were pressing, she only remembered the slightest touch of coolness.

She couldn't find her own voice, and Lancaster didn't say anything, just stared at her quietly.

"Speak, are you mute?" She couldn't help complaining to him again.

Lancaster cleared his throat, but his words were still hoarse: "What did you say?"

Heather looked up and waited for a long time before hearing this sentence: "Whatever, my neck hurts."

Lancaster thought about it, put his arm around her waist and put her on the stone pier next to him. Before Heather could even scream in fright, she had already sat firmly.

It wasn't very stable, actually. Although the stone pier wasn't high, the wind was strong behind her, and the sound of the river lapping against the bank became clearer and clearer. Although she had the upper hand, she felt no sense of control. She could only hold his shoulder more carefully, to prevent herself from accidentally falling into the river.

Lancaster looked up at her. She must have been afraid of falling, clinging to him tightly, as if she were completely dependent on him. He thought, if he were a seasoned courteous person, he would probably choose a safe flirting topic, perhaps continuing the previous atmosphere by complimenting her charms and then letting things flow into a genuine kiss.

After weighing the possibility of backfiring, he finally spoke the truth he'd been holding back: "Ever since I saw you standing with that man this afternoon, I've been wondering whether to throw him further north in Scotland or just snatch you away."

Heather's eyes suddenly widened, and her eyelashes trembled twice: "No, no, you can't touch him again."

Lancaster tilted his head, suppressing the impulse in his heart.

"He has a daughter who is less than ten years old. Julie has finally settled down in Birmingham. How can she cope with moving to another city at such a young age? She might be sent back to her hometown again." Heather was afraid that his sudden thought would affect Julie's fate again.

Lancaster loosened his collar inconspicuously and agreed.

"Then I'll have to change one." He turned back to look at her, smoothed his wind-blown hair, put on his coat properly, and said, "I'm very rich. I have more money than a normal person could spend in a lifetime."

"Ah?" She opened her mouth. Is this the time to show off this?

"Besides my ancestral inheritance, I also have a respectable and legitimate career, and even a fraction of my annual salary is higher than that of a major. I have connections in Parliament and among the nobility. There's a high probability that any man you meet now or in the future will be able to pack up and leave London. Conservatively speaking, a high probability means at least 98%."

Heather listened silently, feeling that the scene was somewhat familiar. Could this be the common framework used by men when courting? The last time she heard similar remarks, she just wanted to interrupt the other person and end the conversation quickly, but this time, she wanted to listen more and see what else he had to say.

Maybe it's because the weather is cooler today, she told herself.

Lancaster was uneasy at her indifference: "...and my appearance should be more to your liking, right? Because sometimes you stare at me blankly..."

"Stop, stop, stop!" Heather struggled to get down, her face flushed. She was glad that it was dark and Lancaster should not be able to see her face clearly.

"I don't like him. He can't compare to you." She leaned closer and said, "But I'm not ready to get married yet, do you understand?"

Lancaster nodded. "Okay, then let's make a deal. How about you continue to be my employer?"

Heather felt that it was not right and that the inheritance issues had been resolved, so it seemed that there was nothing left for them to continue working together.

Lancaster still looked cold, but his breath was hot and heavy on her neck, giving her goose bumps.

"Payment is by the piece. Just give me a kiss and I'll do one thing, anything. The contract term is up to you. If there's anything I can't do, I don't think there's anyone else in England who's capable and willing to help you." He simply slowed down his speech, and his voice became unusually bewitching, like a stone statue that had stood there for a hundred years suddenly coming to life and spouting some nonsense that didn't fit the stereotype.

Heather was driven mad by him, pinned to the bank, afraid to move forward or backward. She struggled to avoid his sight, but he wouldn't let her go for a second, insisting on forcing her to buy.

She was angry and suddenly leaned forward to kiss his face, mumbling, "Okay, the deal begins. Now the first thing you have to do is put me down."

Lancaster obeyed his employer's wishes, gently picked her up from the ground, held her in his arms, and kissed her hard.

After a long time, he finally let go of her, panting, and let her rest her head on his shoulder. After calming down for a while, he said, "This is the only way it counts. Otherwise, it would be a big loss."

She is also cheating. After all this time, how can she let him get away with it?

"Then my request this time is that from now on you will never lie to me or hide anything from me again. Whether it's about Major Brown or anything else that has to do with me, can you do it?"

She relaxed in his arms, not taking it as a difficult task.

Lancaster looked at the top of her head and couldn't say a word. He thought to himself that tonight was destined to be a sleepless night.

The next day, Heather was admiring Julie's new painting when Lancaster came to visit.

"This is amazing," Hessel exclaimed.

Vast clouds of black smoke overwhelmed factories and estates, stained even the sun with gray specks. It was the black robe of Death. With one hand, Death clutched the tie of a tall-hatted gentleman, his gilded pocket watch falling into the vast, unattended sewage. With the other, he clutched the wrist of a barefoot child, the wild chrysanthemums in his hand shrivelled into a black mass.

"Julie, in time, you will become a famous painter."

Lancaster stood at the door and knocked on it. He hadn't slept much the previous night, and there were noticeable red bloodshot eyes. Fortunately, after changing into new clothes and styling his hair, he looked no different from before.

He leaned against the door frame, gave Heather a faint smile as she turned to look at him, and said, "Good day. Are you free? There's something I need to tell you."

Heather put down the painting, walked out, and leaned against the other side of the door frame. With a playful smile in her eyes, she said in a long voice: "Oh, what's the hurry? Have you thought of something to confess to me?"

Lancaster reached out and steadily tucked a strand of her hair that had fallen on her forehead back behind her ear. No one knew how nervous he was at the moment.

"Yes, confess and you'll get some mercy, okay?"

Heather was startled and was about to speak when Mary suddenly ran in from outside, shouting, "Aunt, there's a letter from Anna, and it's expedited!"

She ran to the living room door and saw Mr. Lancaster and her aunt standing one inside and one outside the door, a step away from each other. Mr. Lancaster had his head down and his expression was unclear, while her aunt leaned out of the door and looked at her.

Mary greeted him vaguely and handed the letter to Heather suspiciously.

"There are three stars on the envelope, which is the most urgent signal we agreed upon. Did something happen in London?"

Heather opened the envelope quickly and read it quickly.

Soon, she looked up in surprise. "Great! Dorothea's letter says that London's temperature has risen sharply in recent days, and a northeasterly wind has blown. The wealthy areas are filled with a foul smell, and black smoke can be seen in the air. Anxiety has begun to spread." She leaned in close and said, "Mary, we're leaving tomorrow. We'll be there in time. Let's pack up first and give Julie the payment for the painting. Find a way to store it for her."

Mary quickly went upstairs, holding up her skirts.

Heather went back into the room and spoke to Julie for a few words, then picked up the painting and walked out. She looked at Lancaster, who was still leaning against the wall and waiting quietly. "Second thing, help me publish this painting in the most widely circulated newspaper in London as soon as possible. It should be as large as possible, so that as many people can see it as possible." She felt her face getting a little hot. "I'll owe you the payment for now, okay?"

Lancaster sighed in his heart: "Of course." Perhaps this was a reprieve arranged by God, destined to make him suffer for a while longer.

He was about to turn around and contact the newspaper he knew when Heather called out to him from behind: "So what did you want to confess just now? Is it urgent?"

The choice was once again in his hands.

He didn't hesitate any longer and said as calmly as possible: "Actually, I'm not a lawyer."

Heather shook her fingertips unconsciously.

"But the judge."

Her brows furrowed slightly, and she pondered for a few seconds. "Lawyers and judges, aren't they similar? They're both legal professionals. One answers questions, the other is the judge, right?"

Lancaster stared at the changes in her expression and said against his will, "It's almost the same, except that lawyers can have direct contact with the client." So he can get close to her.

Heather exhaled, "So I'm your only client, right?"

He nodded slowly.

She wasn't very familiar with the judicial structure here, and her only knowledge of judges came from the plots of some Korean dramas. It seemed that judges were just workers who handled and adjudicated cases, big and small. Some good judges even resigned to become lawyers for chaebols. It seemed that there was a high degree of communication between them.

"Okay, I understand." She put the matter aside and pointed to the painting in Lancaster's hand: "It doesn't seem as urgent as my business. Please."

Lancaster looked at her deeply, squeezed her hand, and turned away.

Heather didn't rush to do her own thing. She crossed her arms and watched his back until he completely disappeared.

Mary reappeared without anyone noticing. "Aunt, this is what Julie and I copied this morning from the church in the factory district she frequents." She handed Hazel a notebook. "Fifty pounds to look through the parish death register for the past ten years is really expensive. At least I've got some useful information. The death rate has almost doubled in recent years. Common causes of death include byssinosis and skin ulcers."

"And this is just one small parish. I wonder how many more people across England have lost their lives due to pollution."

Heather remained silent.

If you see an iceberg on the sea surface, there must be a body of the iceberg hidden underwater that is several times the volume of the exposed part.

So, what secrets are you hiding?