Cold sweat trickled down the housekeeper's forehead; the vase in the second young master's room, even if not a priceless antique, was still a delicate work of art, with an astonishing price. He wondered if the elder young master would blame him for not handling the matter well?
The housekeeper glanced upstairs, then at Atlas Hallow.
Atlas Hallow's expression showed no change. After peeling the large shrimp, he put the tender springy shrimp into Charlotte Miller's dish. Then, he picked up the napkin and elegantly wiped his fingers because Charlotte had taken some stir-fried asparagus and whispered, "How is it? Do you want to eat something else?"
Since the pregnancy, Charlotte Miller's taste had become very peculiar, always suddenly craving strange things, so Atlas worried that the food might not suit her palate.
Charlotte Miller shook her head. What else was there to eat? The table was full of dishes, at least a dozen. How could she finish them all?
