NICHOLAS
SEVERAL DAYS PASSED with Noah Bennett doing exactly what I’d told him to do. He was punctual and respectful, and most of all, he kept his mouth shut…for the most part.
Every day he entered my chambers when summoned and performed his duties efficiently, keeping his eyes lowered and forgoing unnecessary conversation.
He no longer asked how I was. No longer offered opinions on my clothing. He’d honored my request not to mention my brother, the interview, or the fact that he’d met with a more agreeable version of my face and then been stuck with me.
He behaved exactly how I expected a footman in my household to behave.
It was grating on my nerves.
Not because he was doing anything wrong.
That would’ve been easier, if I could correct his mistakes, but Noah made very few now.
He’d learned the palace quickly, according to Baxter—who seemed reluctantly impressed by that, though he’d never say it out loud.
He learned that the prime minister preferred coffee over tea on their visits, and that Gabriel came and went through whatever doors he pleased, whether they were intended for him or not, and those included dropping in unannounced downstairs.
And, unfortunately, Noah had also learned me. Not fully—no one did that—but enough that I was all too aware of it.
He knew better than to hand me correspondence before I’d finished my tea, and knew that I never ate the breakfast Mrs. Stuart insisted on sending up every morning.
Mostly, though, Noah had learned silence.
I should’ve been grateful for that. It was what I wanted, after all.
But for some reason, the way it stretched between us wasn’t soothing in the least. I was all too aware of him every time he entered a room, and when his fingers brushed against me while he was doing the most basic task.
Keeping his mouth shut while he did it should’ve helped.
It did not.
That morning, Noah entered with my breakfast tray balanced on one hand and the day’s schedule tucked beneath his other arm.
“Your Majesty.”
I looked up from the letter I’d been reading over with my tea. “Mr. Bennett.”
He set the tray on the small table near the window, careful as always. The tray was full of toast, eggs, fruit, more tea, and a small pot of honey Mrs. Stuart continued to include, no matter how many times it had been returned unopened.
Noah placed the schedule beside me and then straightened, his hands clasped behind his back. When I didn’t reach for it, he nodded at it. “Your schedule, sir.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
He didn’t move, though, and I glanced up. “Was there something else?”
“No, sir.” He continued to stand there, and then I caught his eyes flick to the tray. “I was waiting to see if you needed anything else before I left.”
“No. I don’t.”
“Yes, sir.” He bowed and moved toward the door, but not before looking once more at the untouched plate.
I ignored it, or tried to, and began scanning the schedule. It was predictable enough, with nonstop meetings, but as I flipped to the second page, Noah stepped back inside the room.
“I thought you left.”
“I did, sir.”
“And yet here you are.”
He held a black jacket over one arm, his expression not giving anything away. “This had been sent down for pressing. It’s ready for you now.”
I crossed over to him and turned, and he stepped behind me, lifting the jacket.
I slid one arm in, then the other, and Noah’s fingers brushed the back of my neck as he adjusted the collar.
The touch lasted all of a second, so light I shouldn’t have noticed.
I looked up and met his eyes in the mirror.
He’d noticed. Of course he had, because Noah Bennett noticed everything.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. His face revealed nothing, but his eyes betrayed him, and the awareness I saw there had me turning away from the mirror. “That will be all.”
His hands dropped at once. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
When he left again, I told myself it was relief I felt as the tension in the room eased, and I let myself believe it the rest of the busy day.
The following morning, Noah brought breakfast again.
Toast, eggs, fruit, more tea, honey…and this time, a small pot of lemon curd.
I glanced at it. “What is that?”
“Lemon curd, sir.”
“I can see that.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“I did not request it.”
“No, sir.”
There was silence, and when I looked up, Noah’s expression remained perfectly neutral.
“Mrs. Stuart sent it,” he said.
“Did she.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And why would she do that?”
“I imagine she thought it would go well with the toast.”
“I do not eat breakfast.”
“No, sir.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re aware of this?”
There was a twitch at the corner of his mouth, barely noticeable, but I locked in on it. “Downstairs is aware of many things, Your Majesty.”
“Then why do you bring it?”
“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, sir.”
“I don’t eat it.”
“You might change your mind one day, sir. I’d like to be prepared.”
The man was insufferable, and I waved him away. “Dismissed.”
“Yes, sir.” He bowed and left, and I glared at the breakfast tray. I’d never bothered really looking at it before, but it was a nice presentation. The strawberries especially looked plump and juicy, and I wondered what happened to them when I left them untouched. I’d never thought about it before.
I picked one up, examined it, then ate it, leaving the rest of the food there to grow cold.
THE NEXT MORNING, there were more strawberries on the plate.
Noah didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything. But the tray was returned downstairs with the strawberries and toast cleared from the plate.
The morning after that, there was an extra slice of toast, both cut into neat triangles, taking up the spot where the eggs had been.
I looked at the tray, then at Noah. He stood by the door, a carefully neutral look on his face.
“Do you find this amusing?” I said.
“No, sir.”
“Does Mrs. Stuart?”
“I wouldn’t presume to know Mrs. Stuart’s feelings.”
A wise answer. It seemed Noah was finally finding his footing in his position. Not that it mattered to me one way or another. I was just happy I wouldn’t have to break in another new employee when I was busy trying to step into my own new role.
“Was there anything else?”
“No, sir. Nothing except…enjoy your breakfast.”
I wanted to be annoyed by his insolence, but when it was accompanied by that slight crook of his lips, I found my ire dampening.
“Thank you. That’ll be all.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Noah turned and made his way to the door, and it irritated me to no end that I was still staring at it minutes after it closed behind him.
What was it about this young man that kept getting under my skin? His persistence? His gall? His determination?
It was obvious at this stage he wanted me to eat something for breakfast, and while I knew it was his job to serve me, it wasn’t his job to care—and maybe that was it, the fact that this felt more personal, more an act of a friend or family member than a footman to the king.
That it was affecting me the way it was.
That I was feeling the need to…please him?
It was ridiculous.
Then why was it that two days later I was finishing every single bite on my plate? Why was I sitting here with my tablet waiting for Noah to arrive to take my empty plate for me so I could preen like some proud child?
No, that wasn’t it. I just wanted him to know he needn’t concern himself any longer with my health. That I was capable of taking care of myself. But when the handle to my chambers turned and he stepped inside, I found myself getting to my feet like he was royalty.
What the hell is the matter with me?
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Noah said as he closed the door behind him. “I didn’t realize you were still in chambers, sir.”
“That’s quite okay,” I said, and gestured to the plate. “I’m done.”
Noah’s eyes wandered to the empty plate and he gave a pleased smirk.
“Don’t do that.”
His attention shifted back to me. I’d expected his expression to fall, but it grew wider.
“What’s that, sir?”
“Act as though you won something here.”
“Won something?”
As I crossed the sitting room, Noah’s shoulders became increasingly straighter, stiffer, as though he were standing at attention. I stopped in front of him and said, “You think I ate that breakfast this morning because you told me to.”
“No, sir. I would never assume such a thing.”
“No?”
He shook his head, but his eyes remained locked over my shoulder on something in the distance.
“And do you think lying to me is going to make me forget the fact you have spent the last week defying my wish while continuing to bring me something I stated I do not want?”
“But you—” His eyes shifted back to mine, and I raised a brow. “No, sir. I know you’re eating it because you’re choosing to. Not because of anything I did.”
My lips twitched despite myself, and when he clearly noticed, I silently berated myself.
“Good. Don’t ever forget that. You may take the tray.” Noah gave a swift nod and stepped around me to retrieve the item. As he hurried toward the door, I called, “Oh, and Mr. Bennett?”
He stopped and looked over his shoulder.
“I’d like fresh blueberries tomorrow with my strawberries. I trust you’ll pass that along to Mrs. Stuart.”
He bowed ever so slightly, but not quick enough to hide that victorious smirk of his.