2. Noah
NOAH
MONTCLAIR PALACE WAS an exquisite work of art, the most beautiful place I’d ever laid eyes on—and that was saying something, considering I was no stranger to nobility.
Not because I’d come from a line of kings or dukes, God no.
I could almost laugh at the thought. No one would mistake me for a gentleman in my livery.
I was in full black today, given the entire country was in mourning over the loss of the king, though the colors I wore usually matched with the house I was serving, and hopefully, that meant blue and ivory were in my future.
The timing for my arrival couldn’t have been worse, with the entire royal family still at the burial, but the palace had insisted my interview would go on as scheduled today.
To an outsider, that might’ve seemed callous, but I understood how this world worked.
It kept moving, no matter who was in charge, no matter what else was happening.
People needed a constant, and in Valoria, that was the Valemonts.
I didn’t enter through the front door—I wasn’t a guest, after all—but went around the back, where all staff slipped inside without notice.
Immediately, it was different down here.
So quiet and regal upstairs and on the grounds, but the hustle and bustle of the house all originated here.
Maids hurried past with arms full of folded linen, footmen carried polished silver trays up the back stairs, and the sounds of the kitchen staff clanging pots and pans filtered down the hall.
Even with all the noise, it wasn’t hard to hear the bells tolling in the distance. The king was dead.
I set my dripping umbrella in the stand by the service door as a woman said behind me, “Name?”
I spun around and straightened. “Noah Bennett. I’m here for—”
“The footman interview.” The woman’s eyes flicked to the tablet in front of her. Her black-and-silver hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and the black dress she wore was immaculate, without even a speck of lint. “Recommended by Duke of Ashford’s household.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She went still and looked up. “Do I look old enough to be your mother?”
My mouth opened and closed while a girl about my age standing behind her pressed her lips together like she was trying not to laugh.
“No,” I said carefully. “You look like someone who could have me removed from the building with one look.”
The woman stared at me for a long moment, but when the girl behind her choked from trying to hold back her laughter, I saw the woman’s mouth twitch ever so slightly. “Trudy Hutcheon. Senior housekeeper. And you’re late.”
I glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’m ten minutes early.”
“For Montclair, that’s late.”
Great. I’d been in the palace for all of a few seconds and already had a slap on the wrist.
Trudy gave me a sharp once-over. “You’ll wait in the lower west corridor until the head butler, Mr. Baxter, is ready for you. Do not wander. Do not speak to anyone. Do not touch anything.”
“Yes, Miss Hutcheon.”
“Mrs.”
“Yes, Mrs. Hutcheon.”
“Trudy,” the girl behind her whispered loudly.
Trudy didn’t look back. “Violet, if you wish to keep your tongue, I suggest you stop using it.”
Violet grinned and winked at me. “Don’t worry, she likes you.”
Trudy turned her head slowly in Violet’s direction, and the younger girl became fascinated by a stack of folded serviettes.
I bit back a smile, not wanting another strike against me already. It wasn’t a day to be smiling anyway.
“Lower west corridor,” Trudy said, pointing down the hall in that direction. “Straight through, make a left at the portrait of Queen Genevieve, but if you reach the kitchen you’ve gone too far.”
“Straight, left at the portrait, avoid the kitchen. Got it.”
Violet leaned in as I passed her and said, “You’ll know if you’ve gone too far. Mrs. Stuart likes to throw things.”
“Violet.”
“What? It’s not a nice welcome to get a concussion on the first day.”
So Mrs. Stuart was the kitchen tyrant, from the sound of things. I filed that away, gave Violet a grateful nod, and headed down the hall to wait.
I passed by several rooms, one that had two young men in tailored pants, white shirts, and vests polishing cutlery and setting it aside, more than likely for the reception that was about to take place here at the palace.
It seemed strange that such a solemn day would end with a feast. But with the death of one king, another ascended to the throne.
The House of Valoria couldn’t afford to look weak in any respect. So tonight was not only about paying respects to its fallen monarch, but also presenting to the world its new king, even though the coronation was months out.
There would be world leaders, foreign nobility, and diplomatic liaisons from across the globe in attendance, and all eyes would be on the man I was here to interview for.
The new king—His Majesty Nicholas Laurent Valemont.
He didn’t even get a day to mourn.
“Did you see him on the television?” someone whispered inside the room. “Not one tear.”
“Cold as a stone, that one,” came a reply.
“I know. But that’s his father.”
“One who wasn’t very present—”
“But still.”
The conversation stopped at the same time my feet did, and when a man, slightly younger than myself, came to the door with a silver fork in hand, he looked me up and down.
“You lost?”
I shook my head. “Sorry, no,” I said, then pointed up the hall. “I’m looking for the west corridor.”
“Well, it’s not here.”
“Right.” I gave a clipped nod and then held my hand out, not wanting to start off on the wrong foot with the other staff, since I hoped to soon join them. “I’m Noah. Noah Bennett.”
The man looked at my hand, then reluctantly took it in his, no doubt wondering what I’d heard and whom I’d tell. But he had nothing to worry about from me.
If there was one thing I’d learned from working downstairs in a place of such high rank, it was how to keep a secret.
“Charlie. You here for a job?”
“I’ve got an interview, yes. I was told to wait for Mr. Baxter in the west corridor.”
“The west corridor?” Charlie shook his head as he leaned out the door and looked down the hall. “I think you mean the east. His office is in the east.”
I frowned, sure that I’d heard Trudy right, but, not wanting to be late, I turned back to Charlie, who had a friendly smile on his face. “Mrs. Hutcheon told me west.”
Charlie nodded and glanced back at the other man in the room, who finally spoke up.
“She’s busy this morning. Probably just slipped her mind. Mr. Baxter’s office is definitely in the east.”
“So I take a right at the portrait of Queen Genevieve?”
Charlie and the other man nodded. “That’s right.”
“Okay. Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“No problem.” Charlie held his hand out again. “Good luck in your interview, Noah.”
“Thanks.” I shook his hand, grateful he’d helped me out. “I appreciate that. I hope everything goes smoothly for you both today.”
With a final farewell to them, I headed down the hall in the direction I’d been told, and when I reached the portrait of the queen, I stopped and looked to my left and then my right.
I was just about to turn to the right, in the direction Charlie had pointed me, when a door to my left was flung open.
“Five minutes!” A young woman in a black dress and white apron turned toward me and shouted up the hall, “Five minutes! The king and crown prince are five minutes out!”
She rushed past me so fast my hair ruffled in the whirlwind she caused, then knocked on doors and called out the same message over and over.
One by one staff began to hurry out of rooms and side alcoves I didn’t even see as the palace came to life in a flurry of activity.
Some were carrying trays, others glasses and plates, then a man hurried by me with a mop and bucket.
He bumped into my shoulder and the water sloshed onto my shoes, making me jump back a step.
“Don’t just stand there,” he said, but didn’t bother stopping, the message clear: get out of the way. But I didn’t know where to go. Everything was total chaos. An organized sort of chaos where I was the only person without a purpose.
I stepped aside as a couple of men hurried up the hall from the direction I’d come. They were dressed similarly to Charlie, in tuxedos with white shirts and black vests instead of the usual royal-blue. The only differences were their jackets and tails.
The senior footmen. My colleagues, if I got the job.
One of them tugged at his jacket sleeve as they went to hurry by, and when he saw me standing there, he asked, “Can I help you?”
“Mr. Baxter’s office?”
He pointed to the left of the portrait. “In the west corridor.”
Just as the words left his mouth, Charlie stepped out of the room where he’d been polishing the silverware.
“The west?” I asked the senior footman again just to be sure.
“Yes.”
Charlie gave me a cheeky grin and salute, clearly not bothered at all by the fact his lie had just been revealed, before heading back down the hall.
The senior footman continued, “But Mr. Baxter is going to be busy for the foreseeable future, so you might want to get comfortable.”
Good to know.
“Thank you,” I said, and before I could ask his name, he was jogging to catch up with his colleague.
“Two minutes!” the woman who’d run in earlier called out again, this time racing back up the hall in my direction. “Didn’t you hear me?” She shooed me out of the way. “Two minutes and the king will be here. Move!”
I turned to my left and hurried down what was apparently the west hall. When I came to a door with a brass plaque that read, Head Butler, I opened it and all but dove inside, relieved to be out of her way.
I had no idea who she was, other than five feet of absolute mayhem, but I was glad to be out of her path.
Leaning back against the door, I took in my surroundings and sucked in a deep breath.
It was strange not to be a part of the action happening, but a relief that there had been a few friendly faces so far.
That was always the hardest part of the job, leaving one work family for another and hoping you wouldn’t dread waking up to them every day.
I glanced around the small office, everything meticulously in its place.
There was nothing that told me anything about the man who occupied it, no personal photos or trinkets, but that wasn’t unusual.
Everything was all business, always centered around the head of the house, although in this case, it was on an entirely different level.
I thought I knew it all from working with the aristocracy over the years, but the palace was a whole other beast. Hopefully a very well-oiled one, considering the sheer number of staff I’d seen already.
Footsteps ran past the door, one after the other, and I moved away to wait in the lone chair in front of Mr. Baxter’s desk.
There was no telling how long I’d be left waiting, clearly not the priority on a day like today, so I settled in and listened to all the commotion, hoping that by this time tomorrow, I’d be a part of it.