Page 48 of A Most Forgettable Girl

“He might well be,” James agreed. “Did you know the Ashdowns are a pair of elderly sisters?”

“No, for I have not met them yet.” How funny that the red swelling about his eye did not detract from his good looks one whit, she thought. “I’m sorry the boys dragged you into their dispute today,” she said earnestly.

“It wasn’t really their dispute. And I was not dragged.” He considered her for a moment, his head tipped to one side. “What are those things on your arms?” he asked.

“My tippets,” she replied promptly, holding up her arms. “I saw Viscount Bardulf in a pair a couple of months ago and had my tailor re-create them from a drawing I made. His were red though and he wore them over a black tunic. They looked very dramatic.” James frowned. “Do you not like them?” she asked. He made a noncommittal noise in his throat. “I was thinking I could have more made up,” she said, lowering her arms again. “In an array of different colors.”

“I like the white,” he said, “at least, with that dress.”

Gunnilde beamed. “Lady Winifred Hawes may start wearing them next. She seemed to admire them greatly this morning. Would it not be amusing if they become hugely popular with ladies down to my influence?”

He did not answer at once, and when he did it was to ask, “Who is Winifred Hawes, another lady-in-waiting?”

“Goodness no. She is one of Harriet’s friends and very studious and clever. You must have seen her at some of those lectures you favor. She’s always at them and concentrating ferociously.”

“I must have, I suppose,” he murmured. “I cannot bring her to mind just now.”

“Maybe because she is not particularly prepossessing,” she replied sadly.

James looked discomforted. “I did not mean that the lady was not memorable,” he said awkwardly. “Only that I am not good at placing faces to names.”

“Oh.” For a moment he looked really concerned and Gunnilde was touched. James was really proving surprisingly considerate in not wanting to cause her offence. She sent him a smile of reassurance, so that he once again relaxed.

“The Queen is encouraging me to arrange a banquet,” she told him enthusiastically. “She said we could use one of the palace chambers for it.”

“To what purpose?”

“Why to show off my current elevated position, of course! I was thinking I could invite my fellow ladies-in-waiting in the hope they thaw toward me a little.” She hesitated. “She’s also encouraging me to invite...certain people from my past.”

“What sort of people?”

“The Conways,” she admitted in a rush. “Muriel Conway was my closest friend growing up in Tranton Vale. She dropped me as a friend as soon as she was married. I was unofficially betrothed to her brother in my youth, but it all came to naught. Her husband is Sir Christopher Lelland. I think her husband has an official position here at court as part of King Wymer’s retinue. Do you know of him?”

James scrunched his eyes then winced, feeling the bruise. “Is he one of the Hamford Lellands?” he asked.

“So Mistress Bartree says.”

“Then yes. Is he the tall one or the gruff, warlike one?”

“The tall one.”

James nodded. “Tell me about the brother.”

“Muriel’s brother, Sir Arthur? There is not much to tell. I believe he lives with Sir Christopher and Muriel now. I have not seen him for, oh, it must be over a year.”

“Did you...? Were you fond of him?” he asked carefully.

Gunnilde paused. “Yes, at one time. It was terribly exciting as a young girl to look out for him at gatherings and on feast days and think that one day...”

“He would be your husband?” James concluded.

She gave a short laugh. “Yes,” she admitted. “It was pleasant to think that there was someone with whom my destiny was entwined.” She looked away. “But I was being fanciful, as young girls often are.”

“The reason you did not want to go down for supper this evening...” James cleared his throat. “It wasn’t anything to do with wanting to avoid a certain knight, was it?”

“No!” Gunnilde gasped. “Whatever gave you that idea?” she blurted, feeling her face turn red. “Has someone said something?” But really, who could have? She stared at him in confusion. Even the Queen did not know the identity of the man who had wounded her so.

At that moment the door opened, and Bennett shuffled in carrying a tray. “Got your first course,” he murmured, giving them a furtive look before setting it down and placing the dishes in the center of the table before making his escape.