Page 10 of Fit for a King

“Out of turn?”

“Apparently so. He came highly recommended, though, and Duke Ashford’s household was quite complimentary about his work.”

“Well, let’s hope he’s a quick learner.”

A knock sounded at the door.

“That will be him now,” Baxter said.

“Send him in.”

He crossed over to the door and, when he opened it, said, “Mr. Bennett. His Majesty is ready for you.”

I expected yet another polite but nervous young man in palace livery, one of the dozens who moved quietly in the shadows.

Then Noah Bennett stepped inside, and for a moment I forgot to finish fastening my cuff link. He was dressed in the black-and-royal-blue livery of the palace, the buttons so polished they gleamed, and his brown hair was pushed back off his face. There was nothing improper about him, nothing that stood out in a way that should’ve drawn my attention the way it did.

But then his eyes lifted to mine. Only for a second, but that was all it took.

When most people looked at me, they saw the crown, even if it wasn’t on my head. It was my title and what I represented, not me as a man. But Noah Bennett looked at me as though he knew me, and I narrowed my eyes slightly, wondering at the familiarity.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, so briefly I could’ve imagined it, and he quickly bowed his head. “Your Majesty.”

There was nothing nervous at all in his voice. It was lower than I expected, and confident.

I looked away first, irritated that I’d noticed any of it. “Mr. Bennett.”

“Should I stay, sir?” Baxter asked.

I went back to fastening my cuff link. “No.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Baxter whispered something to Noah and then the door closed behind him.

The room went silent, Noah continuing to stand just inside the room, his hands clasped behind his back, awaiting my instructions.

“You may come forward.”

“Yes, sir.” He kept his hands behind his back but walked over, his gaze moving to the dressing table where several ties had been laid out for me. “How are you today?”

My shoulders automatically stiffened at the far-too-personal question. There was only one other who’d dared ask me how I was feeling, and he was so closely related to me that strangers could barely tell us apart.

Who did this man think he was talking to?

I turned my head a fraction, not enough to look him in the eye, but enough that he felt my distaste at his misstep. This was not off to a promising start.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant in helping me get ready this afternoon, do you?”

“I—” Noah’s mouth opened as a deep V formed between his brows. “No, sir. I was just being polite.”

“You were hired to be helpful, not polite.”

“Yes, sir. Of course.” He lowered his eyes to the table where the ties were all neatly laid out. “The dark blue, sir?”

“Yes. That will work.”

“Mr. Baxter said you favored blue for meetings with the prime minister. I can understand why. The royal blue is such a strong, commanding color. It suits you.”

My head snapped up. The boldness of this man was unparalleled. Offering opinions was something that was earned. Something that took months, sometimes years, to be established between a footman and a king, and here came Noah thinking he had permission to tell me what would or would not suit me.