Mrs. Thompson noticed Maeve Lane had yet to sit down, so she pushed the chair again, causing a heavy sound on the luxurious carpet.
She kindly said, "Young Madam, please come over."
The man's mood seemed to drop further; even though Maeve Lane was separated from him by a table, she could still feel a chilly vibe.
Since he saw she wasn't happy, why did he stay?
Years ago, she couldn't understand Julian Fairchild, and now, she still finds this man unpredictable.
Maeve Lane lowered her gaze and pulled out the nearest chair to herself, "No need, I'll sit here."
Breakfast was nutritious and plentiful. Maeve Lane gave it a cursory glance before picking up a piece of fried egg and quietly chewing.
Since she'd started eating, Mrs. Thompson could only awkwardly push the chair back, "Then, Young Master... Young Madam, take your time."
With that, she left to tend to other matters.
