No, he’d go down to the town on his evening off and find adifferentpretty idiot. Just as long as they had startling green eyes, a wicked smile, dark hair, and a long, sinewy build with hips that swung like a pendulum when they walked.
Not that Thomas had a type or anything.
He pushed away thoughts of the duke’s attractiveness and busied himself with pacing the length of the corridor. Thomas was light on his feet, and he prided himself on his ability to glide silently into a room and take stock of a situation before anyone else had even noticed he was there.
Nobody expected stealth from a man who towered over them at over six feet four inches and was built like a brick privy, and it had come in handy more than once—especially with the newer guards who needed a close eye kept on them while Thomas sorted out which of them had potential and who had joined purely for the wages and the free boots. Plus it was fun towatch the young guards flail when he appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
Thomas wasn’t sure how many times he paced the length of the corridor before the bedroom door creaked open and Evan popped his head out.
When he saw Thomas, his mouth pinched for just a second before he blinked and his face settled into a sheepish smile as he slipped out the door.
“Your Grace,” Thomas said coolly.
“Captain. Fancy seeing you here.” Evan ran a hand through his tousled hair, somehow making it messier, and tugged at the sleeves of his coat.
His deep blue coat, which wasnothinglike the emerald green one he’d been wearing earlier. That one had matched his eyes—not that Thomas had been paying attention to the colour of Evan’s eyes. It was just that he was trained to notice these things.
“Begging your pardon, Your Grace,” he said, stepping forward and extending a hand. “It appears you’re wearing the earl’s coat.”
Evan’s brow creased and he glanced down at himself, patting the front of the jacket in question. “Am I?” He shook his sleeves out and gave a shrug. “I’ll bring it back later when Remy is awake. I’m afraid I fucked him senseless and now he’s taking a nap.”
Thomas blinked at the man’s brazenness, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Sir, you need to show some caution! Are you not worried about the countess finding out about you and her husband?”
Evan smiled, apparently unconcerned. “Is that why you were hanging around?” His expression shifted to something mischievous. “Or were you hoping for an invitation to join again? Because if you just give me an hour, I’m sure I can?—”
Thomas’s jaw dropped at the implication. “Absolutely not! It’s my duty toprotectmembers of the royal family,” he said stiffly.
Evan stared at him blankly for a second. Then something in his brain must have engaged, and his expression brightened. “Oh! Well, the countess is quite lovely, and she and her husband have a very accommodating arrangement. But it’s sweet of you to be concerned for my safety.” He stretched and let out a yawn. “You know, I think Remy might have worn me out as well. I’m going back to my rooms for a nap. Good night, Captain.”
And with that, he meandered down the hallway, whistling a jaunty tune. Thomas stared after him, caught between frustration and attraction. When he found himself still staring at the hypnotic sway of the man’s hips, though, he forced himself to look away.
The Duke of Ravenport was not someone Thomas could afford to be attracted to. No matter how wicked the curve of his smile or how attractive his lithe build, he was still a walking disaster, and not worth Thomas risking his job for.
He just needed to remember that.
Thomas stood with his back to the wall, eyes ahead as befitted the occasion. There wasn’t usually a guard during breakfast—King Leopold and his husband, Prince Felix, preferred to eat in the kitchen given half the chance—but due to all the visitors for the trade negotiations, they were using the formal dining hall, which meant a guard was expected, and as the Captain of the Guard it was proper that he make an appearance.
He wasn’t quite sure what he was guarding the guests from—a randomly thrown bread roll, perhaps?—but he didn’t mind this part of the job. There were worse ways to spend a morning than listening to the chatter of nobility who seemed to think he was deaf and blind, and he heard all sorts of interesting things while pretending to be a coat rack.
Take the Earl of Aramanthe, for example.He’d been casting furtive glances around the room since he sat down, and he was twitchier than a startled ferret. For an awful, fleeting moment, Thomas wondered if the duke had been lying when he said the earl’s lady wife was aware of their arrangement and now the earl was in a world of trouble, but no. The countess was seated next to him consuming a poached egg in tiny, delicate bites with a serene expression on her face, and she gave no indication of being displeased with her husband for his adventures the night before.
The door swung wide on its hinges, bouncing off the wall and making Thomas jump. Moments later, the Duke of Ravenport lurched into the room, still dressed in last night’s clothing. He was clutching his temple with one hand. “I wish to complain,” he said loudly, “about the wine last night.”
King Leopold raised an eyebrow. “That was the finest wine in the kingdom.”
“Well, somebody must have tampered with one of the bottles I had because I feel like bloody death this morning,” Evan said, throwing himself into a chair and dropping his head onto the tabletop.
“One of the… seven bottles?” Prince Felix said wryly.
“Who even counts?” The duke flapped a hand. He grasped the stem of an empty goblet and waved it in the air. “Actually, another glass might be just what I need. As a restorative.”
King Leopold let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh as a servant rushed to fill Evan’s request.
After sitting up and taking a long sip from his glass, Evan let out a contented sigh. “Better. Breakfast?” he asked hopefully. A maid returned in minutes with a plate of porridge laced with honey and apple, and Evan fell upon it like a starving man. “Porridge! Do you know, I once visited a kingdom where they ate eels for breakfast? The thing about travel,” he said around a spoonful, “is that visiting other places is all very interesting, but foreign countries only seem to serve food that’s, well. Foreign.” He wrinkled his nose. “I wonder why that is?”
“They probably say the same when they come here,” King Leopold said.
Evan’s brow furrowed. “Well, no. Our food isn’t foreign. It’s real food.”
