The servant boy stopped instantly. He turned back around, his eyes wide with slight worry. He thought he had done something wrong.
"What is it, Your Grace?" the servant boy asked quickly. "Is the tea not hot enough? Shall I fetch a different pot?"
"The tea is fine," Rowan spoke quickly, waving his hand to dismiss the boy's fears.
Rowan took a step closer. He looked at the young boy with a completely serious, deeply earnest expression on his face. He needed an honest opinion from someone who was not a stuffy London lord.
"I need your help with something important," Rowan said, his voice lowering slightly.
The servant boy looked confused. "My help, Your Grace?"
Rowan nodded his head. He gestured with his hand toward the bed, pointing to the scattered wardrobe.
"I will be courting my wife tomorrow," Rowan said.
