Page 116 of A Most Forgettable Girl

James had looked a little discomforted. “‘A Conscientious Man, Faithful of Duty,’ he had said, clearing his throat. “Lady Schaeffer chose the title.”

“And what was it called before you rededicated it?”

“It was just numbered thirty-eight.”

“As in your thirty-eighth composition?” she had asked. He had nodded. “I hope one day I can hear all thirty-eight,” she had said wistfully.

The next day James had brought one of his lutes back with him so that he could play her a private rendition whenever the mood took him. She especially liked his very early compositions, for their simplicity pleased her and his tender age when writing them touched her greatly. Numbers three and seven were particular favorites of hers, written when he was only ten years old. She had bade him perform them for Hal and his friends, who had made a surprisingly enthusiastic audience.

“Not bad, Wycliffe,” Kit had commented. “If you would just put a little effort into stringing some words together, you could have the makings of a first-class ballad writer, I am convinced of it.”

“He does not need to—” Gunnilde had started to expostulate when James had slipped an arm about her waist, distracting her.

“Tell me about False Billiam,” he had interrupted. “How goes it with his story?”

“Not well,” Cuthbert had snorted. “Hal can’t get past the first couple of lines, though he did decide that Fair Margaret should get a new suitor after Billiam’s tragic end.”

“You mean after all his limbs drop off?” James asked dryly.

“After he plunges to his death from the castle ramparts,” Hal corrected him.

“And his name,” Kit had volunteered, “is Trusty John. Trusty John will be everything that False Billiam is not.”

“I am very glad to hear it.”

“Who in the world is False Billiam?” Gunnilde had asked in bewilderment. The boys had then launched into a confused account of the ballad they had taken over from James. “It sounds awful!” she had decided roundly, much to her brother’s chagrin. “I for one am heartily glad that James did not decide his future lay in ballads if this is an indication of their quality!”

James had laughed. “I will stick to what I know,” he had promised and kissed her hand.

39

Gunnilde’s feet paced once more the length of their designated function room to check everything was in place and looking as it should. The second largest dining hall had been the one allocated for their use in the end, as the lower gallery was not deemed large enough to house all the musicians they now required.

Now space was no longer an issue, Gunnilde found herself apprehensive that they could fill the room. What if no guests turned up? She let her eye wander over the large fireplace which she had spent all afternoon festooning with holly and ivy. As far as Gunnilde knew, it was the first of the decorations put up in the palace, for they decorated very late in the season in royal residences.

Dozens of candles were lit and suspended all about to give the room a warm, inviting glow. The silver goblets glinted, reflecting their light, and the red and white berries glistened against the vivid greenery of their leaves.

It looked very well, she told herself. Everything looked as it should. No one could find fault with the provisions that had been arranged. Gods, she hoped enough people turned up to eat all the food and drink all the wine they had ordered in!

“Milady?”

Turning, she found their manservant hovering with a disapproving look on his face.

“Yes, Bennett?” The wonder of it was that he had decided to prioritize them for once instead of the Ashdowns. Bennett had made himself useful all afternoon, fetching and carrying for her and ably assisting with the draping of leaves. She had been quite impressed with him. “What is it?”

He drew himself up. “The musicians have arrived.” His tone was much as though he was announcing the arrival of bailiffs. Bennett, it seemed, did not approve of musicians.

“Oh good! Please show them in. You know where we agreed they should set up.”

He inclined his head and turned on his heel to admit them.

“Gunnilde!” It was James, coming in the opposite double doorway, a frown upon his handsome face. She caught her breath to see him in the splendor of his purple velvet and gold. She had never seen him displayed to such advantage! If he was to be painted, it should be wearing that, she thought dreamily. He looked an absolute vision!

“Are you listening to what I’m saying?” he asked abruptly, coming to a halt before her.

She started guiltily, throwing him a look of enquiry. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“Why did you not wait for me?” he asked.