Page 5 of Fit for a King

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.

3

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?”