"There is always a first time, Your Grace. I prefer to maintain a healthy awareness of my own fallibility." They had reached the staircase, and Boggins paused. "Will you be requiring a bath? Your current state suggests you recently lost a wrestling match with a particularly aggressive puddle."
"A bath would be welcome, indeed."
"I shall arrange it. And while you bathe, I shall begin considering the logistical challenges of tomorrow evening." Boggins' expression had shifted into something more serious. "Your Grace... If I may speak frankly?"
"You always speak frankly. It's one of your few flaws."
"I prefer to think of it as a service." The valet's voice softened. "This dinner, this woman, this entire situation, is significant. I have known you for years, and I have never seen you like this. Never seen you willing to step outside the bounds of what is expected. Never seen you pursue something for no other reason than that you wanted it."
"Is that a problem?"
"It is the opposite of a problem, Your Grace. It is, if I may say so, a miracle." Boggins' eyes were unusually bright. "Your father spent his entire life within the walls he built for himself. He never risked anything, never reached for anything, never allowed himself to want anything that wasn't already his bybirthright. And he died alone, exactly as he had lived. I watched it happen, and I prayed, I literally prayed, Your Grace, which is not something I do lightly, that you would not follow the same path."
"Boggins..."
"You are following a different path now. You are reaching for something. Someone. And I want you to know that whatever happens, whether this leads to happiness or heartbreak or something in between, I am proud of you. For trying. For caring enough to try."
It was, Frederick realised, possibly the kindest thing anyone had ever said to him.
"I might ruin it anyway," he admitted.
"You might. But at least you'll have tried. And trying, truly trying, with your whole heart, is more than most people ever manage." Boggins smiled again. "Now, shall we address the state of your clothing? You're dripping, and Mrs Patterson will have my head if I let you track mud through the entire house."
Frederick laughed and followed his valet up the stairs, feeling lighter than he had in years.
An hour later, clean and dry and dressed in comfortable clothes, he found Boggins laying out options for tomorrow's dinner.
"The navy coat is the obvious choice," the valet said, gesturing to the garment in question. "Dignified but not ostentatious, as I mentioned earlier. However, I wonder if something slightly less formal might be appropriate."
"Less formal?"
"You are dining in a blacksmith's home, Your Grace. Not attending a state dinner. A certain degree of relaxation in your attire might help put your hosts at ease." He produced a second option; a dark green coat that Frederick had always likedbut rarely worn because his father had considered green "too cheerful."
"The green?"
"It brings out Your Grace's eyes. And it suggests a willingness to step outside the usual aristocratic palette." Boggins set both options on the bed. "The choice, of course, is yours."
Frederick looked at the two coats. The navy was safe, traditional, exactly what would be expected. The green was a risk—a small one, but a risk nonetheless.
"The green," he said. "Definitely the green."
"An excellent choice, Your Grace." Boggins began gathering the rejected items. "Now, regarding a gift…"
"She told me not to bring anything ostentatious."
"Indeed. Which is why I have taken the liberty of procuring a bottle of wine from the cellar. Not our finest vintage, that would be ostentatious, but something respectable. The kind of wine a thoughtful guest might bring to express appreciation for the invitation."
"You've thought of everything."
"I endeavour to anticipate Your Grace's needs. It is, after all, my purpose in life." But his tone was warm, affectionate in a way that transcended the servant-master relationship. "Is there anything else Your Grace requires this evening?"
"No, I think... Actually, yes." Frederick turned to face him. "Thank you, Boggins. For everything. For putting up with me, and for helping me become someone worth putting up with."
"Your Grace has always been worth putting up with. You simply didn't know it." Boggins bowed slightly. "Goodnight, Your Grace, sleep well. Tomorrow promises to be eventful."
He withdrew, and Frederick was left alone with his thoughts and the green coat and the terrifying, exhilarating prospect of tomorrow.
***
