Page 128 of A Most Forgettable Girl

Hal deflated slightly. “Oh, er, yes,” he acknowledged grudgingly. “I suppose that is so. You’re sure you don’t want our aid in the matter though? Only we’re quite ready and willing.”

“Quite sure, thank you.”

“Well, how are you going to go about it?” Neville demanded. “You can’t just ignore it!”

“No,” Hal agreed when James did not answer immediately. “Though Farleigh would feel pretty silly sat waiting in vain in the dark, freezing his ballocks off. It’s damned disheartening when a girl does that.”

“Speak from experience, do you?” Neville asked slyly. Hal ignored him.

“What are you going to do, Wycliffe? Challenge him to a duel?” Kit asked hopefully.

“Of course he is not!” Gunnilde answered hotly. “James is far too sensible to act so rashly. There is not the smallest need for—”

“Quite the contrary,” James answered, cutting her off. “Instead, Gunnilde is going to write back, inviting Sir Douglas to meet instead in our rooms at a more civilized hour.”

Gunnilde gasped. “James,” she said, grasping his arm, “that is really most handsome of you.”

“Of course,” he answered coolly. “Is that not what everyone says of me? James Wycliffe, the handsomest man in the realm.”

Gunnilde regarded him with sudden misgiving. Was it just a trick of her ears, or did his words sound faintly bitter?

43

James handed a cup of ale to Sir Douglas and watched the young knight accept it with some awkwardness before settling back in his seat. He had clearly thought to meet with Gunnilde alone and, confronted with the presence of a husband, seemed pretty much at a loss how to continue.

Gunnilde leaned forward in her seat. “Now, do not let us have any constraint between us, Sir Douglas. You may speak before James as freely as you always could before me. Believe me, he is most sympathetic to your plight.” James kept his features impassive as Douglas darted an uneasy glance his way. “Now, pray tell us. What has happened since you left the palace?”

Sir Douglas sighed and scrubbed his eyes with his hand. “Where to start? In truth, things went awry almost from the start. No road was straight enough for Constance, no inn respectable enough, no landlord amenable enough, no supper appetizing enough, no maidservant polite enough... I could go on.” He shot a hunted look at James. “Her complaints were ceaseless.”

Gunnilde’s face took on a look of sympathetic understanding. “I suppose in a way it is only natural. Constance is, of course, an heiress,” she said tactfully, “and moreover an only child. She is no doubt accustomed to having things her own way.”

“That is one way of putting it,” Douglas agreed fervently. “I think myself that we had not left court above a couple of hours before doubts started seeping into her mind.” He shook his head. “We never—” He turned scarlet. “Well, she never permitted that I should share her bedchamber, that much is certain,” he admitted, shame-faced.

Gunnilde sent a look of appeal in James’s direction, but what the hells was he supposed to say? Bad luck, your wife is clearly not as generous and giving as mine? Realizing he was not going to come to her rescue, Gunnilde coughed. “And then, on reaching her estate?” she prompted, breaking the awkward silence.

“Oh, things really took a turn when we reached Northcott Manor,” Sir Douglas said bitterly. “Her uncles came out in force, her cousins, her godfather, her steward, all of them were up in arms.”

“They are all her dependents, I take it,” Gunnilde commented thoughtfully. She looked across at James. “Did you ever meet any of them during your own, well, betrothal to Constance?”

James bristled. Why in heaven’s name would she want to bring that up? He gave a short nod. “I met her uncle Elias,” he admitted reluctantly. “I believe he is the senior guardian, and her godfather, Sir Aldo Marchmont, on one occasion.”

Douglas snorted. “Aye, so you’ve met the worst of them, then! They’ve treated me like a criminal from the start and practically dragged me here in irons! At least, they would have liked to clap me in them if I’d permitted it.”

James made no comment. Constance’s relations had seemed amenable enough when he met them, but then again, finances and settlements had been agreed and protections put in place. None of that had been arranged for Douglas and Constance’s precipitate marriage. No doubt her family had been thrown into a state of panic.

“And now they mean to put the matter before the King himself?” Gunnilde asked uncomfortably. No doubt she felt partly to blame for encouraging the pair of them in their folly. “What does Constance say about it all?” she asked.

“She barely looks at me these days, let alone talks to me,” Douglas answered dispiritedly.

“I expect they keep her closely guarded at all times,” Gunnilde mused. “But you must speak with her, Douglas! You must ascertain her wants and desires in the matter, not just those of her relatives.”

“Trust me, I know precious little about Constance’s desires,” Sir Douglas retorted. “And I suspect I don’t factor in them one whit.”

“But Douglas—” James noticed with disfavor that she tended to drop the “sir” in moments of high emotion.

“No, Gunnilde,” he said, shifting in his seat to face in her direction. “You must understand, I—I feel quite differently about things now. I was fogged before, my mind confused. Now the clouds have dispersed, I wonder if I ever really loved her or if I just got swept up in a sort of madness!”

He leaned forward, almost as though he were trying to shut James out of the conversation. “When I come to look at things, really look at them, I mean, I realize that the part I liked most about courting her was, well, the time I spent with you.” He turned slowly scarlet; his eyes beseechingly trained on James’s wife.