Page 102 of A Most Forgettable Girl

“No, but I have at least three others that I wrote this year that I could repurpose,” James answered, his expression reflecting only the faintest twinge of a guilt at this proposal.

“We’ll make a man of business of you yet!” Neville said approvingly. “But why do you say this latest piece is Mistress Bartree’s?” He looked intrigued.

“It is inspired by her personal history,” Gunnilde told him.

James looked uncomfortable. “Gunnilde...”

“It is though, and I really want to hear it.”

“Do you? It is not entirely finished yet, though I have a few musicians meeting me at Barnabus Hall tomorrow to play a run-through of what I have arranged so far. We had an impromptu rehearsal this afternoon and it was...promising. I want to hear it in a building with a raised roof.”

“Really?” A request to join him trembled on her lips.

“Do you want to come along with me and hear it?” he asked tentatively.

“Could I?”

“Hold fast,” Neville interrupted. “Have you not heard? Prince Raedan arrives at court tomorrow. I hardly think you will want to miss that event, now, will you?”

James’s face fell. “Oh, well, another time perhaps.”

“No!” Gunnilde blurted, clutching at his tunic. “I mean, I want to come with you tomorrow! The prince will be at court for a while, so it will not signify. No doubt I will see him sooner or later, most likely at the Revels.”

Neville looked shocked, but a slow smile spread over James’s face. “You would rather accompany me, Gunnilde?” he asked.

She nodded. “Oh yes.”

“Good,” he said simply.

34

James dropped a kiss on her plump shoulder. “You really do not care about catching a glimpse of the prince tomorrow,” he marveled later as they lay in bed together wrapped in bedsheets. At one time he was sure such a thing would have been her priority. A smile curved his lips. It pleased him to think her priorities might have changed. That he might take precedent over some court event.

He felt dopey from pleasure, boneless and tranquil as he lay with his wife in his arms. They had eaten, made love, and bathed together. Today had been a good day. A very good day.

“No, I don’t mind missing Prince Raedan’s arrival,” she confirmed, smothering a yawn. “I would much rather spend the day with you.”

A general sense of well-being spread about James’s body right down to his fingers and toes. “Did you see the royal tailor today?”

She nodded. “I did.”

Something in her tone had him paying close attention to her words. “It did not go well?” he queried.

“No, no,” she was quick to reassure him. “Signor Castellar had the most luxurious fabrics and trims, all of which he made fully available to me. It is just...he is somewhat traditional in his outlook.”

“He does not believe in slashing sleeves and pinking bodices?” he guessed.

She turned her head to squint up at him. “How ever did you know that?”

“Just a guess. The royal tailor is likely to be well established in his trade, is he not? And as such, not the most innovative.”

“Well, yes,” she agreed dolefully. “He thinks he knows best about every decision and purses his lips the moment I suggest a deviation from his established pattern.” She sighed. “I can hardly offend him though, not when the gown is a gift from the Queen.”

“No,” he agreed. “You will have to content yourself with full artistic control over my outfit.”

“You really would not mind?”

“No. You can do whatever you want with me these days.”