“This is the prince’s wing,” Florence confided in a low voice.
Hugo’s heart tripped. This was putting him much closer to Ev. “Prince Everand’s wing? It was decorated like this for him?”
Florence shook her head. “No, actually it was King Hubert who had it decorated like this. He and his younger brother, Prince Crispin, lived in these rooms. They were great huntsmen in their youth, or so I was told. They had the halls and rooms all decorated to their tastes. Prince Everand has never shown any interest in changing them.”
Hugo nodded. It was rare for anyone to mention the king’s brother. He’d died when he was about seventeen years old because of a sudden and unexpected illness.
Down the hall, another woman in a maid uniform stood off to the side, seeming to halfheartedly watch as a silver watering can flitted from one potted plant to another, giving each a hearty drink. At the sound of their approaching footsteps, she squeaked and jumped, snatching up the watering can as it was floating off toward another plant. Clutching the receptacle to her chest, she bobbed in a curtsy and mumbled an apology.
Hugo bit back a smile as they passed her to enter a room not too far away.
“I beg your forgiveness, Mr. Baker. In the palace, the servants are not to be seen going about their daily cleaning duties,” Florence stated as she closed the door behind them. “His Highness sleeps late in the morning, so this corridor would usually be empty at this hour.”
“It’s fine. I don’t mind. You can tell the staff that I said they are doing a marvelous job of keeping up with such anoverwhelming place.” Hugo strolled into the room, which looked as if it were larger than the entire house he lived in with his family. There was a parlor with a large sofa and chairs covered in deep-burgundy fabric and burnished gold highlights. His feet sank into the thick rug, which was of the same dark red with a repeating gold falcon pattern. Three doorways branched off the parlor. Hugo peeked into each, glimpsing a private dining room with a table long enough to seat six comfortably, an elegant study with shelves crowded with books, and finally a bedroom with a large canopy bed. The surrounding curtains were rich burgundy and hunter green.
“I wish to thank you for this opportunity to serve you, Mr. Baker,” Florence stated slowly, pulling Hugo out of his trance.
“What? Thank me? For what?” He turned to find Florence twisting her fingers together in front of her, a light blush staining her cheeks.
“Yes, normally I work in the south wing of the palace, which is reserved for guests who are…” Her voice faded a little and her brow puckered with wrinkles as she appeared to search for the right words.
“Not of the noble class?” Hugo provided.
She winced and nodded. “Most days, I never see the royal family except maybe for a tiny glimpse from a distance. That morning we met in the breakfast room was my first time serving the queen, and I was filling in because one of her normal maids had taken ill. It was a test to see if I was deserving of a promotion to one of the royal wings.”
“Did you get the promotion?” Hugo mentally crossed his fingers. He could only imagine that working directly for a member of the royal family meant better pay and more respect among her peers.
“Not yet,” she replied, but she didn’t seem disheartened. “But when His Highness learned you were to return to the palace, hespecifically asked for you to be placed inthis room, and that the same girl who helped you last time was to help you again.”
Hugo grinned. That must have impressed her boss to have a royal member request a specific servant. “Well, I’m glad you’re the one helping me. You make me feel welcome here.”
Florence giggled and hurried closer. “You should feel very welcome.” She dropped her voice to a whisper as if there were other people in the room with us. “I heard from the other maids who work in the prince’s wing, and they said that the prince has never asked for any guest to stay inthisroom. Whenever the prince has had guests stay in the palace, they stayed over in the south wing, which is where you were on your last visit.”
“And doesthisroom put me closer to the prince?” Hugo suspected he already knew the answer to this question.
Florence nodded rapidly, her blond hair bobbing. “There’s only one other room left in this corridor. At the end of the hall. The double doors.” Hugo lifted an eyebrow. He had seen the grand doors as they’d approached this room. He’d assumed they led to an ostentatious ballroom or even a library. “That’s the prince’sprivatechambers.”
Hugo swallowed hard, his eyes shooting wide.Thatclose to Everand.
Somewhere on the other side of those doors, Everand was stretched out in his bed, sleeping soundly even now. Hugo’s brain scrambled to conjure up images of the devastatingly handsome man stretched out against rumpled silk sheets. His black hair would be mussed and his cheeks slightly flushed.
Did he sleep in matching silk pajamas? Or was he the type to sleep in the nude?
Hugo forced his wandering mind away from that delicious thought and smiled tightly at Florence, thankful she couldn’t read his thoughts.
“Would you like to take a bath first? Or have a nap?” Florence inquired.
Now that she’d offered it, a nap did sound lovely. He’d forced himself to stay awake late into the night to keep his new friend company, and when he’d finally drifted off, he’d sat on the stone floor with his back to the cold stone wall. His body was stiff and sore.
“A nap sounds heavenly.”
Florence nodded and rushed to the bed, pulling aside the thick covers. She fluffed the pillows, making it all look so very inviting. She lit a gas lamp beside the bed and went around closing up all the curtains, making it as black as night.
“I will return in a couple of hours to ready your bath,” Florence murmured as she withdrew a set of burgundy-red silk pajamas from a nearby bureau and set them on the end of the bed. “Would you like me to call the valet who attended you last time to help you change?”
“No, I can manage on my own. Thank you.”
Florence bobbed a quick curtsy and hurried from the room, leaving Hugo alone. He wandered over to the bed and ran his hand along the pajamas. They were buttery soft and of higher quality than anything he’d ever owned in his life. The chambers were breathtaking. And Everand was one room away. This visit to the palace felt very different from his last one. It also felt like Everand heavily influenced the welcoming side of things rather than his mother. Would the queen have dared to put Hugo so close to her son if Everand hadn’t interfered? Probably not. Her earlier matchmaking stunt was likely an attempt to remind Everand that he needed to look for a husband, not that she was endorsing Hugo for that role.
