3. Noah
NOAH
IDIDN’T KNOW how long I’d been waiting, but the second the door opened, I shot up out of the chair and brushed a hand over my jacket.
The man standing in the doorway could’ve been mistaken for royalty himself if it weren’t for his uniform proclaiming otherwise.
He was tall and seemed fit for his age—which, judging by the gray lightly salting his dark hair and thick mustache, and the deep lines between his brows, told me he was at least mid-fifties, maybe older.
His eyes moved from me to the chair and back again. “Mr. Bennett, I presume?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“This is my office.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is there a reason you’re in it?”
My stomach sank like a stone, but I tried not to let it show on my face. Several things flew through my head at once, from Mrs. Hutcheon’s instructions to Charlie’s, and then the mayhem that followed.
Oh God. I wasn’t supposed to be here.
“My apologies, Mr. Baxter. I got turned around.”
He stared at me for a long moment then shut the door behind him with a click that sounded very much like the end of my employment before it began.
“You got turned around,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
“And in your confusion, you entered a closed office?”
Idiot, idiot, idiot. “When you put it like that, it does sound less than ideal.”
His dark eyes narrowed slightly, and my mouth, which did sometimes run away with itself and had chosen that moment to do so, snapped shut.
For a long moment, he said nothing, only crossed to his desk to pick up a tablet that he began to scroll through.
“Duke Ashford’s household highly recommended you.”
“I was fortunate.”
“Mrs. Cunningham wrote that you were punctual, observant, discreet, and quick to learn.”
I kept my mouth closed, figuring that was the wisest thing I could do in the moment.
Mr. Baxter looked up at me. “Do you consider walking into private offices as quick to learn?”
“No, sir. More like a one-time error in judgment.”
“Let us hope so.” He set the tablet down, and I braced myself for the inevitable dismissal and wondered what I’d do next. But then Mr. Baxter sighed and said, “His Majesty has already been alerted to your arrival.”
Oh. It would be a mark on him if I didn’t go, even after being such a disaster.
“Given the strength of your recommendation and the fact that His Majesty has agreed to a brief audience before dinner, you will proceed upstairs.”
Upstairs. To the king. On the day he’d buried his father. What could possibly go wrong?
Well, more wrong.
I nodded, though. “Yes, sir.”
“You will address him first as Your Majesty, then sir. You will not speak until spoken to. You will not comment on the day’s events under any circumstances, and you will remember your place.”
“Of course, sir.”
He gave me one last look, and then I followed him into the hallway, where staff parted for him as he passed.
Everyone averted their eyes and straightened, and as we came to the base of the stairs, I caught Charlie out of the corner of my eye.
He had a tray balanced on one hand and was biting back a grin.
When our eyes met, I lifted a brow, and the fucker winked.
He winked. Was enjoying the fact that I could’ve had Mr. Baxter’s footprint on my ass as he kicked me out of the palace.
“Come,” Mr. Baxter said, already climbing the stairs, and I filed Charlie’s treachery away to deal with another day—if I lasted past today.
We came out of the back stairs into a quiet corridor upstairs with beautiful ivory walls and rich royal-blue carpeting. The chaos of downstairs faded behind us as Mr. Baxter stopped outside a set of polished double doors and turned to me.
“Remember who you are and where you are.”
As if I could forget. My palms were already sweaty, a reaction I hadn’t expected, considering my experience. But this was the king, after all. I couldn’t afford a misstep here.
One of the guards stationed there opened the door and Baxter stepped inside.
“Mr. Bennett, Your Majesty.”
I followed, bowed my head, and tried hard not to look like a man who had recently trespassed in the head butler’s office. Like an idiot.
“Your Majesty,” I said.
“Ah. The lost footman.” The man’s voice was warm and a little amused.
Confused, I lifted my head, expecting to see someone other than the king, given all the talk of him being so void of personality.
But the man standing by the windows was indeed Nicholas Valemont.
I’d seen him in so many photographs, and on television, that I easily recognized the sharp line of his jaw and the dark sweep of his hair.
Broad shoulders filled out the black suit he wore; a blue sash across his chest was pinned with a silver broach.
The photographs hadn’t told the full truth, though, because the man standing in front of me didn’t come off cold at all.
Tired, yes. There were shadows under his eyes that spoke to the grief he had to be feeling, but there was also an open curiosity in his face that had my shoulders relaxing just a bit.
Or maybe it was just the fact that he was so incredibly striking.
Mr. Baxter didn’t look my way, but I could feel the glare in his words as he said, “Mr. Bennett was found in my office, sir.”
“I got turned around,” I said—without thinking, because if I had been thinking, I wouldn’t have opened my mouth.
Mr. Baxter’s head turned slightly in my direction, a silent reminder that I’d spoken before I should’ve.
The king noticed, because of course he did, and grinned. “Baxter, if you glare at him much harder, he may combust before I’ve had the chance to ask a single question.”
“That may save time, sir.”
A laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it, because Mr. Baxter wasn’t wrong, and both men looked at me.
Oh God. I wished the floor would open and swallow me whole, but the king’s eyes only sparkled with interest.
“Well, that’s promising,” he said.
Mr. Baxter frowned. “Is it?”
“I think so.”
“Your standards are generous today.”
“My standards are mine,” the king said with ease, almost playfully, but there was something deeper beneath the words.
Mr. Baxter inclined his head. “Of course, sir. You know best.”
“Yes. I do.” The king looked back at me. “Mr. Bennett, do you require Mr. Baxter in the room to answer my questions honestly?”
“No, sir.”
“Excellent. Then that will be all, Baxter.”
“As you wish, sir.” I could feel the man’s disapproval and the warning to behave as he turned to leave. He gave me a look that said just as much and then closed the door behind him, leaving me alone with the king.
The King of Valoria.
My God.
I stood still as a statue, breathing only when necessary, as he started toward me. His strides were sure and purposeful until he stopped in front of me.
“Do you have a first name, Mr. Bennett?”
Of all the questions I’d expected to be asked, that was most definitely the last. First names were not important when it came to the staff. But maybe he thought it necessary in case he had to file a police report for rogue footmen entering rooms they shouldn’t.
“Yes, sir. It’s Noah.”
“Noah,” he said like he was testing out the word to use, but that couldn’t be right. Under no circumstance would the king ever use my first name. “Noah Bennett.”
“Yes, sir.”
His eyes narrowed a fraction and he nodded. “I like it.”
I wasn’t sure how he expected me to respond to that, and luckily for me he turned and walked back over to the windows, allowing my silence to speak for me. The truth of the matter was that he could call me whatever he liked and I would answer. That was the job.
“I understand you worked closely with the Duke of Ashford.”
“That’s correct.”
“And what are your thoughts on the duke?”
My thoughts? I wasn’t supposed to have thoughts. That wasn’t what I was paid for. But when the king glanced over his shoulder, an expectant look on his face, I straightened my spine and wiped my hands against the legs of my trousers.
Was this a test? It felt like one.
I’d worked for the Duke of Ashford for several years, and learned how to deal with his many idiosyncrasies.
But to say he was an easy or kind man would be a lie, and one thing my father had always taught me when it came to dealing with nobility—anyone in life, really—was if you didn’t have anything nice to say, it was best not to say anything at all.
You never knew who could be listening, and in a palace this size, there were many ears.
“Mr. Bennett?”
“Yes, sir, sorry. My time working for the duke was integral to my growth as a footman.”
The king smiled, not the response I’d expected, as he turned back to face the window. “And also to your growth in diplomatic answers, I see. But that’s not what I asked. What are your thoughts on the duke?”
Never under any circumstance would I make disparaging comments about my former employees, especially when they were so high ranking. But when the king—the actual King of Valoria—asked a question, you didn’t deny him.
“He was a man set in his ways.”
“He was difficult.”
“He—” I took in a deep breath, then admitted, “Yes. He was difficult at times. He had very particular likes and dislikes, and could be a bit of a curmudgeon.”
“Yet he sent you to me with a glowing report.” The king spun around to face me. “So, you must be good at handling…cranky old curmudgeons.”
“Three things you are clearly not,” I rushed out before I thought better of it. “Sir.”
“What if I am?”
Not sure what exactly he was asking, I just stood there.
“Cranky?”
It wasn’t my place one way or another to tell him how to behave. But if this interview was any indication of his demeanor, I wasn’t too concerned.
He had every reason to be sullen and moody today, but I’d yet to see any kind of that behavior.
“Then I’ll adapt and accommodate whatever mood you might be in. My job is to serve you to the best of my ability. Not judge you for it.”
The king narrowed his eyes a fraction but said nothing, and for a moment I thought I might’ve gone too far, especially after being so honest about the duke. But then I caught the corner of his lips twitch.
Maybe the cold demeanor he was known for was just for show. Maybe behind closed doors he was completely different, and the poised, non-smiling version of him was a mask he put on for the public. A show of strength for those around him.
“That’s exactly what I’m after,” he said, walking back over to where I stood. “Someone who can adapt to any kind of mood or situation. This job isn’t easy.”
“No, sir. Of course not.”
“I want someone who will tell me like it is, not be afraid of me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And most of all,” he said as he gave me a quick once-over, “I want someone who isn’t afraid to look me in the eye when he does it.”
I swallowed but understood the request completely.
The palace had a lot of staff members, most of whom were instructed to all but blend into the wall—myself included—but clearly he was looking for more than that.
Not only a loyal footman, but a trusted sounding board, and I was more than up for the challenge.
“Very well, then. I’m due at dinner, but I trust Baxter will show you to your rooms and get you settled. I expect I will see you soon.”
It was about as close to a “you’ve got the job” as I could hope to get, and while my first instinct was to fist-pump the air, I somehow managed, “Yes, sir. Thank you for the opportunity.”
The king gave a final, clipped nod and stepped around me, but I wasn’t about to let him open the door while I just stood there.
I rushed over, and just as I reached for the handle, he stopped and looked directly at me.
“Welcome to Montclair Palace, Noah Bennett. I have a feeling you’re going to be exactly what it needs.”