Page 117 of A Most Forgettable Girl

“I wanted to ensure all was made ready,” she explained apologetically. “I could not rest until I had. What do you think?” she asked, biting her lip.

His gaze flickered briefly around the room before coming back to dwell on her, specifically the low cut of her neckline. “I thought you said your gown wasn’t a flaunting one.”

“Flaunting?” She glanced down at her velvet and cloth of gold gown. “Do you think so? Signor Castellar called it ‘regally commanding.’ You do not like it?”

“I did not say that.” He paused. “It certainly draws the eye, but then”—he shrugged—“you always draw my eye.”

She held up her arms so that he could see the gold stitched detail on her tippets. “Do you see my Wycliffe unicorns?”

He gave a faint smile. “Yes.”

“I must say, you look quite devastating,” she said, taking in the cut of his purple doublet with the gold trim. The deep slashes in his sleeves displayed the sumptuous cloth of gold beneath. “Master Hughes has excelled himself. We must certainly employ his services again.”

“You will kindly note my paneled hose, for was that not a complaint of yours in the early days of our marriage?” At her confused look, he added, “That I did not wear them.”

“Oh. Well, I was quite right, for these look wonderful on you,” she said, her admiring gaze sweeping down to his legs.

“What about yours?” he asked, lowering his voice. “Did you buy a new pair of fifteen-shilling stockings as instructed?”

“I did,” she assured him.

“I suppose I am to take that on trust,” he replied, a gleam in his eye.

Gunnilde hesitated, then caught her heavy velvet skirts in her two hands and lifted them to reveal her ankles. “How do you like them?” she asked.

“Very nice, though I am disappointed you did not have time to get your slippers embroidered.”

“The next pair I will,” she consoled him.

“Until then, I have this for you.” He handed over a carved wooden box.

Gunnilde took it with a questioning look, then ran her fingers over the lid, which was carved with the image of a seated unicorn. “Oh, James, it’s lovely! I could keep my brooch in it. The one the Queen gave me.” Her hand flew to touch the jewel pinned to her bodice as though it was a talisman.

“It already has something in it,” he replied.

“Oh?” Unlatching the lid, she found a pearl necklet nestled within the silk lining. “James!”

“It’s just a short string,” he said, lifting them out of the box. “But look here at the pendant.”

Gunnilde peered closely and saw a round gold disc bearing the impression of a heraldic beast. “A unicorn,” she exclaimed. “And are those my initials beneath it?”

“They are.”

“I love it!” Her face fell. “But I did not think we were currently in funds,” she said, lowering her voice. “However did you afford it?”

“I bought it with the proceeds from that piece I sold to Lady Schaeffer. Here, let me put it on you.”

Gunnilde turned about, scooping up her hair and veil so that he could fasten it about her neck. She placed a hand on the pearls where they sat proudly at the base of her neck. “How do they look?”

“They are the perfect length for you.”

“You mean because my neck is short,” she said without rancor. “It is rather. I wish I had a swanlike neck like Frances Lessimore but my figure is not at all elegant.”

“A swanlike neck on a woman would look patently absurd,” James replied dismissively.

Gunnilde sighed. “At least your black eye has practically disappeared now,” she said, reaching up to briefly touch his brow. He leaned down and, to her surprise, kissed her firmly on the lips.

“Look lively. Here comes your brother.”