"Easy. Don't wake Selina," he said softly. He couldn't afford to upset her with the noise.
"Yes, sir," the maids whispered in unison, slowing their pace.
One of them looked up at him. "Sir, should I check if Madam is ready for breakfast? The meal you requested Mrs. Eloise to cook will get cold soon."
"Right. It might start getting cold," he mumbled, checking the watch on his wrist — eight a.m.
It hadn't even been fifteen minutes since the food Eloise had prepared arrived. He wanted Selina to enjoy the meals she liked without having to worry about cooking herself—not after everything she'd endured physically and mentally lately.
"Did she go back to sleep? Or is she avoiding me because of that awkward moment? Should I check on her myself?" he muttered, his voice tinged with a hint of impatience at the attempt to have breakfast with her this time.
