Page 6 of Fit for a King

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.