Merrick was always running late, which certainly wasn’t a good look for a prince. His valet, Geoffrey, had hung Merrick’s cashmere coat over his shoulders and effectively nudged him down the grand staircase, where a footman waited to usher him out the door.

Geoffrey was not only in charge of his daily wardrobe, but also his schedule, and this evening, Merrick was to be dining with a woman his parents had urged him to court.

Geoffrey was getting up in age and therefore not as fast or limber on the steps as in years past, so Merrick purposely slowed his pace to allow him time to catch up.

He’d admit his lateness was partially due to low enthusiasm about the evening—any evening with a lady, not that it was their fault. He was the one who couldn’t shake his penchant for men. But as his parents reminded him, it was high time he married and produced an heir.

The newest footman stood waiting at the door with his eyes trained forward. He’d recently been promoted from kitchen porter, but for the life of him, Merrick couldn’t remember his name. He did recall hearing a family detail from the butler—a mother in a wheelchair, perhaps. A plain acknowledgment would have to do for now. Footman duties included assisting the butler with the arrival and departure of royal family members, but also serving the formal meals, so Merrick would be sure to learn his name as he saw more of him in the future.

Merrick nodded at the footman and uttered a simple greeting as he crossed the threshold toward the waiting automobile. He slowed on the icy walkway, knowing Geoffrey would need extra care, and just as he had that thought, he heard his valet stumble behind him. He turned in time to see the footman with a steadying hand on Geoffrey’s shoulder, and Merrick’s arm stretched out as well to balance his other elbow.

“I am sorry, Your Highness,” Geoffrey remarked in a strained voice, mortification coloring his cheeks.

“Do not give it another thought,” Merrick replied, a stitch tugging at his chest.

Practically everyone in the castle knew it would soon be time to send Geoffrey off to a peaceful retirement with a reasonable compensation package for his years of service. But Merrick could not yet imagine such an adjustment. Geoffrey would properly train his replacement before his departure, of course, but the valet knew all of Merrick’s quirks and routines, and allowing somebody else into his confidence didn’t exactly sit well with him.

His sister, Marjorie, acquired a new lady maid the previous year when her servant had run off to be married to her childhood sweetheart. Marjorie was quite settled now, of course, but missed her maid dearly. These things took time.

Just as Geoffrey opened the door to usher Merrick to the back seat, Merrick heard a deep and unsteady voice. “Your Highness?”

Merrick looked back to see that the footman had left his station at the door and was crouching down to reach for something on the snow-covered ground.

“What is it?” Merrick asked, noting the footman’s wide eyes as he held a shiny, golden piece in his fingertips.

As Merrick approached the young man, the servant kept his eyes averted, but his throat worked to swallow. “Sir, I noticed your sleeve had come undone, and when I looked down at the ground, I detected the gleam of your cuff link.” The footman held the small object out to him.

“Good eye,” Merrick replied, fishing it from the servant’s fingers. Merrick noticed how the man’s hands were clean, yet his knuckles were roughened. It made him wonder what sort of responsibilities he had outside of the castle walls. Certainly, neither kitchen nor footman duties would have toughened them so. Merrick would not allow himself to picture what those other tasks might feel like. This was the life the man was born into, and even if some portions displeased him, people would never take kindly to him whining about it.

“Thank you…Your Highness,” the footman replied, and Merrick’s gaze slid to the man’s eyes, noticing for the first time their translucent honey color along with his dark-brown hair worn tied against his nape as most men in Evergreen did. It was the end of a long day, so some of the finer tendrils were loose around his ears, but Merrick found that he liked the unpolished look. Life could be so boring otherwise.

“Would you mind?” Merrick asked the man, though he should’ve turned to his own valet for assistance. But Geoffrey would need to don his reading glasses, and besides, something about the footman kept him riveted.

“Certainly, sir,” he replied as Merrick lifted his arm to expose his cuff.

The footman’s hands were warm and slightly clammy, and Merrick pondered whether he made the servant nervous. Certainly, he’d had that effect before, but normally on interested ladies or business associates attempting to win his favor.

“Why these frivolous embellishments are necessary remains a mystery,” Merrick remarked to try and lighten the mood. But also because he somewhat loathed all the pomp and circumstance of royal life, though he rarely got to complain to anybody besides Geoffrey, who seldom offered commentary, just allowed him to sulk in silence.

“A mystery that may never be solved,” the footman replied. “I’ve never had the honor to wear them—thank goodness—but I suppose it completes the polished look.”

A smirk lined the servant’s lips a moment before it was gone, and Merrick wondered if he was poking fun at their customs or only being awkward and shy.

“Indeed,” Merrick replied, and even though the footman had already affixed the cuff link, he remained close, seemingly lost in thought.

Geoffrey cleared his throat. “We must be on our way, Your Highness.”

Merrick startled, and the servant took a wide step back as if remembering his place.

Merrick turned toward his valet, who stood waiting beside the open motorcar door, then quickly twisted back around. “Thank you again. Though I am afraid your name has escaped me.”

“Cassius—Your Highness,” the footman replied as he bowed his head, and Merrick noticed the tinge of pink along his cheeks.

“Cassius. Now I remember.” Merrick tipped his chin in farewell and slid into the back seat of the black automobile, attempting to shake the intriguing footman from his mind and focus on the lovely lady who was about to make his acquaintance.