Page 49 of A Most Forgettable Girl

“First course?” James echoed in surprise, as though he was not used to getting multiple dishes when Bennett was the source.

“I will just go and remove my tippets,” Gunnilde said. “They are so nice and white, and I do not wish to get them splattered with sauce.”

Once she had shut the door behind her, she took a few deep breaths, then unbuttoned her tippets and slid them off before returning to the sitting room. She devoutly hoped there was to be no more talk of knights. She was not even sure how they had got onto that subject. On her return, James had moved to the table and was pouring out two cups of wine.

He pulled out her chair and gestured for her to be seated. Gunnilde could not help but notice how quiet he was. She did not want him thinking she was pining for Sir Arthur or dreading meeting with Sir Ned. Instead, she determined to be her usual bright and breezy self.

“Naturally, you will need to act as host at this gathering the Queen proposed,” she informed him as she dug a spoon into a dish of leeks and cabbage cooked in a thick spiced broth.

“Naturally,” James repeated dryly. “Am I too expected to invite anyone and rub their noses in our recent marriage?”

“I doubt very much you have a past littered with ladies who have scorned you!” Gunnilde responded, pushing the dish toward him.

“Save Constance, you mean?”

Gunnilde lowered her spoon. Oh. “Well,” she said weakly. “If Constance and Sir Douglas have returned to court by then, we can certainly invite them, if you so wish.”

“What about you? Should you wish to see your protégé Sir Douglas again so soon?” he asked pointedly.

There was a strange edge to his words. Was he annoyed? Gunnilde frowned as she helped herself to a couple of pastry parcels which appeared to contain a savory mushroom filling. “I would have no objection,” she assured him. “If you did not.”

James breathed out through his nose. “It is not likely they should return to court so soon, in any case,” he muttered dismissively. “Do you want some of this?” He pushed the final dish in her direction.

Gunnilde looked at it dubiously. “What is it?”

“It appears to be carrots, radishes, turnips and...pears, I think. Pickled in something.”

Gunnilde gamely took a spoonful. “Saffron and vinegar,” she announced after tasting it. “It would be better served with bread and cheese,” she mused. “Do you not agree?”

James shrugged. He was not a picky eater, she had realized, though neither did he seem to overly relish his food. Half the time he barely seemed to notice what he was eating. “Tell me a dish that you love to feed upon,” she requested impulsively.

He frowned, no doubt believing her to still be thinking of the banquet, though in fact that had not been foremost in her mind. “I like roasted venison,” he muttered, “much like the next man.”

“Oh, really?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“No reason. I just thought...”

“What?”

“That some unusual, refined dish might be your favorite,” she admitted.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” he replied sarcastically.

“Oh, but you haven’t,” she said firmly. “Not in any respect.”

Predictably, James turned tongue-tied at this, and they ate in silence for the next few minutes. Gunnilde found her mind wandering back over her day, namely her lack of success with the other ladies-in-waiting. If Hal could succeed where she had failed what did that say about her?

There was also her falling out with Mistress Bartree to consider. Her conduct had been most impolitic, and the older woman would likely make her regret it. She also felt a little guilty that she had been so sharp with her when Magnatrude had provided the ring she now wore on her third finger. She gazed down at the gold band sadly.

“What is it?” James asked, setting down his goblet. “Why do you look so disheartened all of a sudden?”

“I am thinking of Mistress Bartree,” Gunnilde admitted. “She does not like me, and she does not mean to share the Queen with me. How am I supposed to fill my new role when she jealously guards every task from me?”

James did not answer her at first, for ’twas plain he thought her question rhetorical. When he caught sight of her expectant expression, he paused and gave the matter some thought. “Well,” he said slowly, “you’re young and pretty, and the latest favorite. Is it not natural she should be jealous?”

Gunnilde cast aside the “pretty” comment and focused on the matter of hand. “But she has all the experience and sophistication on her side! Why can she not see things from my viewpoint? Why must I always be the reasonable one? It is not fair. Moreover, she has a mysterious and tragic past that I cannot possibly compare with,” she said with a sigh. Her own tale of Arthur Conway was nothing to it, nothing at all.