NOAH
CHARLIE WAS ABOUT three seconds away from being murdered by a monarch.
Nicholas had that look on his face, the one I’d quickly learned made every staff member within a ten-foot radius try their best to blend in with the wall.
Unfortunately for Charlie, there wasn’t a wall anywhere nearby. He was standing beside the refreshment table on the south lawn, staring down at the mess he’d just made during the royals’ tennis match with Henry Beaumont, Marquess of Blackthorne, and his wife.
I, on the other hand, was trying not to smirk at the karma that had befallen my dear old friend who’d given me such helpful advice my first day at Montclair.
Charlie was as pale as the tennis whites Nicholas and Gabriel were wearing, which was a vast difference from the way he’d been laughing and joking with Gabriel only moments ago.
“Charlie,” Gabriel had called out from the far side of the court. “If I collapse from heatstroke, tell the world I died beating the Marquess of Blackthorne.”
Charlie had only grinned and shaken his head. “I’d never lie, Your Royal Highness.”
Gabriel clutched at his chest, giving an exaggerated gasp. “Cruelty from below stairs. On a Tuesday.” When the guests chuckled at that, he winked at Charlie. “You’ll tell everyone if it’s my royal command. And it is.”
Nicholas stood a few feet away, ball in one hand, an annoyed expression on his handsome face. “Are you two finished?”
“Ah, it seems my dear brother is in an incredible hurry to win,” Gabriel said, and pointed his racket at Nicholas. “Go on, then.”
Nicholas cut his eyes at Charlie in a warning not to engage, which my fellow footman really should’ve seen—if he weren’t so busy enjoying the fact he’d made royalty laugh.
I was just glad not to be on the receiving end of that glare. Actually, I was glad Nicholas was completely preoccupied, because I was standing by the towels trying very hard not to think about him in any way other than as my boss, the king.
I’d barely slept last night, which was becoming an unfortunate theme. The encounter in the winter garden had been bad enough, and the private library with mahjong had been worse. But yesterday morning?
Mother of God, yesterday morning had ruined me. There was no other way to say it.
I’d spent all night replaying the feel of Nicholas’s face against my fingertips…the way he’d told me to call him Nicholas…the way he’d looked at me…the hard-on in his pants.
I wasn’t sure whether to be grateful Baxter had knocked and shattered the moment or not, because I definitely would’ve made a move, and that could’ve ended disastrously. Could’ve ended my employment for sure.
Then again, what I wouldn’t give to feel Nicholas’s lips against mine…
I didn’t know how he’d been able to pull himself back together so quickly, because I’d been left there to clean up, trying to remember how to breathe.
“Have a good afternoon, Bennett. I know I will.”
I’d nearly walked into a door afterward, for fuck’s sake.
So watching Nicholas play tennis today in white shorts that showed off his athletic build and spectacular legs was like a form of torture. Seeing him so casual, the sunlight in his dark hair bringing out bits of gold that I was actively trying not to focus on…
I was professional. Really. Even if I’d never tried harder to keep my face neutral in my life.
Nicholas served, his racket slicing cleanly through the air, his shirt rising slightly to give a glimpse of toned abs that had me swallowing hard.
The marquess and his wife were a formidable duo, especially with Gabriel not taking the match as seriously as his twin. When the ball came in his direction, he swung, his racket connecting with the ball but sending it flying in the wrong direction.
In Charlie’s direction, to be exact. The footman had a pitcher in hand and was in the middle of refilling a set of glasses with water.
He looked up just in time to not get hit directly in the ass, but when he tried to block the full drinks, the crystal pitcher in his hand slipped, shattering on the stone path that cut across the lawn.
Water went everywhere, over Charlie’s shoes, onto the edges of the folded towels, and even on the sleeve of Nicholas’s jacket draped over the chair.
Everyone froze.
Charlie closed his eyes briefly, and I saw a silent curse form on his lips as Nicholas slowly walked toward us. Which was somehow worse than if he’d stormed over, because you could feel the disapproval radiating off him as the dread formed in your stomach.
At least, that was what I imagined Charlie was feeling in that moment.
Nicholas stopped by the broken crystal, and Charlie bowed his head. “Your Majesty, I apologize. That was entirely my fault.”
Nicholas looked down at the pitcher, then at Charlie. “Yes. It was.”
Charlie was so white he looked like he might pass out at any moment.
“That pitcher belonged to my grandfather.”
“I-I’m very sorry, sir. I didn’t realize—”
“Clearly.” There was an edge to Nicholas’s voice, a narrowing to his eyes that told me his irritation at Gabriel was about to explode on Charlie. I could see the way the footman braced himself, and I was bracing myself too, for him.
Had Charlie been careless and too charmed by Prince Gabriel?
Yes, but it wasn’t like I had room to judge.
Not after the way I’d practically climbed in Nicholas’s lap during his shave.
I’d really only touched his face, but if I’d been left with him much longer, I was almost positive I would’ve ended up in his lap.
“If you spent more time concentrating on your job,” Nicholas continued, “than you did on pandering to Gabriel’s every whim, then maybe you wouldn’t now find yourself apologizing for your cloddish behavior.”
My eyes widened at the thorough dressing-down being given to Charlie. As the rest of the tennis party headed in our direction, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the young man who’d tried to make my first day as hellish as this one was turning out for him.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Nicholas demanded.
“Only that it won’t happen again, Your Majesty.”
“It better not.” Nicholas angled his chin up in a way befitting his icy reputation. “You work for the King of Valoria, House of Valemont. I expect more from my staff.” He glanced over to where the rest of the group had gathered. “And so do my guests. You will apologize to them.”
Charlie’s cheeks flushed red at the order, and while his initial horror over what he’d done gave me some sense of satisfaction, his embarrassment did not. No one liked to be made a fool of, especially in front of others.
“Your Majesty,” I said, moving in beside Charlie, who would get a serious neck crick if he angled it any farther toward the ground.
“What is it, Bennett?” Nicholas’s words were much sharper than usual, but when he looked in my direction, I stepped forward anyway.
He was frustrated, I could see and feel that—hell, everyone could—but it was about so much more than Charlie’s mistake.
It was a combination of things stemming from the quick turnover from prince to king, his expected nuptials, the new life he was still trying to navigate while keeping sane, while everyone else, like Prince Gabriel, got to wake up as if it were just another day.
I understood all that, but that still didn’t excuse his treatment of Charlie, something I felt the need to remind him.
Lord knew why. It wasn’t as if Charlie and I were friends.
“Don’t you think Charlie’s time would be better spent cleaning up the broken glass?”
Nicholas opened his mouth as if he were about to refute that, but I hurried on before he could get a word out.
“I’m sure he understands the gravity of his mistake and feels terrible. Why not let him rectify it and move on?”
Charlie made a choking cough beside me, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off the man looking at me with a mixture of disbelief…and respect.
“Very well,” Nicholas said, and raised a brow. “The game was practically over anyway. My guests and I will retire indoors and I’ll leave you to help Charlie rectify his mistake.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Bennett.” He inclined his head in farewell, and while it wasn’t anything other than my name, his softer tone and inflection made my heart beat a little faster.
The group of four crossed the immaculate gardens, and as they disappeared around one of the tall hedges, Charlie finally raised his head.
“Are you insane?”
“Excuse me?”
“You can’t talk to the king like that.”
“You would rather he continue ripping into you?”
“Yes,” Charlie said, exasperation lacing his voice. “You just made it worse.”
What was his problem? I’d just saved his ass. But instead of thanking me like any other normal person would, Charlie had to act like a shit.
That was what I got for trying to help.
I nodded toward the broken glass. “I guess you can handle the cleanup on your own, then, since you don’t need me. Have fun with that.”
“But—” he started, but I turned around, gathered up the towels and the king’s wet jacket, and left him there to handle the mess he’d made by himself.
Considering what a jerk he’d been on both occasions we’d crossed paths, it was surprising when he found me a few hours later at the house. I was picking up Nicholas’s freshly cleaned jacket when he cornered me, and I fully expected him to chew me out for not helping with the broken glass.
After all, the entire downstairs seemed to know about the incident by now, but it wasn’t Charlie’s screw-up they were gossiping about.
It was me. And my so-called “correction” of the king.
Charlie blocked the door, leaning up against it and crossing his arms.
Great. Here we go.
“You could’ve thrown me under the bus today,” he said.
I blinked. “What?”
“I sent you to Baxter’s office your first day. You could’ve gotten me back for that.”
This was not at all where I’d thought he was going, and I frowned. “Okay…” I said slowly.
“Why did you talk back to the king, then?”
“I didn’t talk back to the king.”
“You kind of did.”
“I didn’t—” I hung the king’s jacket back on the rack. “What’s your point, Charlie? Some of us have jobs to do.”
“I’m merely trying to thank you for not being an asshole.”
I waited for the rest of that sentence and, when it didn’t come, said, “Like you?”
Charlie shook his head and pushed off the wall. “I knew you couldn’t resist.”
“Well, it was an assholey thing to do.”
“Yeah, it was. Nothing against you. I was just joking around.”
“It could’ve cost me my job here.”
He held up his hands. “You’re right, it could’ve, so I apologize for doing a shitty thing. Won’t happen again.”
Was he serious? I hadn’t expected an apology. I held his gaze a long moment, wondering if this was somehow another prank. But then he held his hand out and said, “Truce?”
“Yeah, okay. Truce,” I said, shaking his hand.
“Good.”
I reached up and took the king’s jacket back off the rack, keen to get upstairs and put it away before he returned from his meetings, but Charlie still blocked my path.
There was a curious look in his eyes when he said, “Interesting how the king listens to you.”
“He listens to Mr. Baxter about a number of things.”
“Uh huh. And he called you Bennett.”
“He’s the king. He can call me whatever he wants.”
“Right.” Charlie nodded slowly, his dark eyes assessing, but then he took a step back, out of the way.
If there was more he wanted to say about that, I didn’t give him a chance, walking past him at a fast clip toward the back stairs. A couple of maids I wasn’t familiar with yet were standing near them, whispering, but when I approached they both glanced up at me and their mouths snapped shut.
I didn’t know them. They didn’t know me. But for some reason, it felt as though they were just talking about me.
Crazy.
I shook off the feeling, refusing to let Charlie’s words and a few wandering eyes and whispers make me paranoid. I was finally in a good place with the king—as far as I could tell—and I wasn’t about to let some gossip about what happened today deter me.
I had a job to do, and I was finally doing it right.