Circumstances being what they were, my pre-assignment interview was a somewhat tense affair. It was predominantly conducted by Rogers, the head of the Queen’s household, who appeared to have been built at the same time as the palace itself. I’d only met him briefly during yesterday’s tour and found him imposing and unapproachable, but I’d still rather speak to him than Andrew, who was leaning against the wall behind Rogers, observing me with an appreciative and roguish eye. He said nothing as Rogers asked questions, and I tried my best to remember the embellished information I’d written on my résumé. At first, I felt he was mentally undressing me, and by the end of the interview I felt that he was mentally lighting a cigarette and calling me a cab.
After a few more hours of orientation, during which I struggled to commit to memory the convoluted layout of the house, the new staff were finally assigned specific duties. I was last, and Rogers took me to one side.
“You are to be Prince Andrew’s personal maid.”
What?
Rogers arched an eyebrow when I didn’t immediately respond out of pure shock, and I swallowed uncomfortably and choked out a response. “I see.”
“You are unhappy with this,” he said. It wasn’t so much a question as a direct statement, and I tried to wipe the horrified expression off my face and adopt a neutral one.
“No, sir, it’s just…I didn’t realize I’d be working so closely with the royal family. You surprised me, that’s all.”
“Valencia,” Rogers continued. He had a curious habit of addressing people by surname alone. “The family are our first responsibility, and keeping them happy is our primary concern and duty. Prince Andrew personally requested you after the interviews today. That’s why you’ll be working so closely with him.”
I nodded. “I understand,” I said, more than a little despondent. I’d hoped to avoid Prince Andrew, but this assignment was literally the opposite of that.
Dammit, why hadn’t I just taken another job, well away from the royal family? Sure, they didn’t pay anywhere near as well, but I’d accept a twenty-percent pay cut if it meant being at least twenty miles away from Andrew at all times.
“That said,” Rogers continued pointedly, “there are limits to those duties.”
“I see,” I said, feeling a ray of hope shine through.
“Fetching, carrying and, of course, cleaning.”
“Indeed.”
“What I am trying to say,” explained Rogers in his clipped, British tones, “is that if you feel the need to kick the randy little bastard right in his regalia, then by all means do so. You will not be fired. In fact, I might be tempted to give you a raise.”
My eyes widened in surprise at that, and then I grinned. Rogers returned the smile. He didn’t have a face which seemed suited to smiling, and yet when he did smile, I saw a whole other man peeping through the façade.
“Keep your chin up, girl,” he finished before nonchalantly going back to his duties.
As unlikely as it might be, it seemed I’d made my first tentative friend in the palace. Maybe working here wouldn’t be so bad after all…
***
It was only that afternoon that I was first called to my new boss’s chambers to be acquainted with my new set of duties. The Prince was waiting for me, smiling and looking as handsome as ever, as much as I hated to admit it.
“Come in, Keira. Take a seat.”
I looked at the chair warily. “Is there something you needed, your Majesty?”
“Nothing specific. Would you like a drink? You’re still standing.”
“I prefer to stand, your Majesty.”
“Call me Andrew. Drew if you prefer, seeing as that’s how we were introduced. Drink?”
“No thank you, your Majesty,” I said, making a point to ignore his request to call him by his real name.
Andrew paused and eyeballed me, clearly displeased with how this was going. “Highness, actually,” he finally said. “Only the Queen is Majestic.”
“Sorry, your Highness.”
“Like I said, call me Andrew. You’re sure you won’t have a drink?”
“Quite sure. Would you like me to pour you one, your Highness?”
“I can do it myself.” A snap of irritation had entered his voice, and I couldn’t help being quietly pleased by it. You can’t have everything you want, you spoiled man-whore. Especially not from me.
Andrew poured himself a drink, took a deep breath and seemed to calm himself. “I wanted to apologize for the other night.”
I suppressed the sudden urge to roll my eyes. “Indeed, your Highness.”