Page 20 of A Most Forgettable Girl

“No, it’s for you,” James replied shortly, but she thought Neville looked a bit disappointed.

“There is plenty for the three of us,” she assured them. “Here.” She removed two thirds of the bread from the first plate and plunked it on her own, then transferred one of the cheese wedges from the second plate and slid it over to Neville. “Take this. James can share my plate.”

“Well, if you are certain...” Neville said, brightening. “This is a rare treat, though it’s a shame it is not toasted.”

Gunnilde glanced over at the fireplace. The feeble thing looked on the point of extinguishing. “We should get a toasting fork,” she recommended. “Then we could toast our own.” She nudged the plate closer to James, but he ignored the gesture, leaning his elbow on the table.

“Did the Queen request your attendance today?” he asked.

“Not outright,” she admitted. “But I am keen to commence my duties and learn what is expected of me.”

Neville laughed. “The Bartree has all the choicest tasks and will not willingly relinquish any of them to you, my girl. As for the rest of them, they sit on the fringes, waiting for the chance to shine.”

Gunnilde considered this as she chewed on her mouthful. “I knew Mistress Bartree was current favorite, for ’tis common knowledge,” she said once she had swallowed. “But the others must have their own opportunities to serve Her Majesty, surely?”

“Oh aye,” Neville agreed airily. “They fetch and carry as they’re bid, but as for opportunities...” He shook his head. “No, it’s no wonder they’re always eloping or falling into deep disgrace. The Queen is not overly fond of any of them and gives them scant regard.”

This was disheartening to hear, and Gunnilde darted a glance at James to verify this statement. He, however, did not appear to be listening. Instead, he was absent-mindedly nibbling on a piece of cheese. There, she knew he must be hungry really!

“Having said that,” Neville began thoughtfully, “it’s a rare thing that she arranges matches for any of them, I can really only think of one other such.”

“Who was that?” Gunnilde asked with interest.

“The Lady Jane,” he replied, picking up another slice of bread. “Armenal arranged her wedding to Viscount Bardulf last year. Still, it came with a price.”

“It did? What was it?” Gunnilde asked, wide-eyed.

“Well, she’s not her favorite anymore. The Bartree slid right into her place. Her Majesty doesn’t like her ladies to get married. Before Lady Jane, it was Lady Eden that held the position but as soon as she fell from grace by running off with—”

“Neville,” James cut in, lowering his cheese, “you are perhaps unaware that...Gunnilde is great friends with Lady Eden.” Again, before pronouncing her name he gave the tiniest pause, as though it did not spring readily to his lips.

“Oh really?” Neville seemed quite unabashed. “Oh, well, you will know all about it, then.”

Ignoring this, Gunnilde leaned forward. “Does the Queen have no married ladies-in-waiting apart from Lady Bardulf and Viscountess Vawdrey?”

“Oh, she has a few,” Neville admitted. “But once married, they have other priorities which keep them away. She favors the Duchess of Cadwallader, but she so rarely comes to court, and Marchioness Martindale but she lives in the north now.”

Other priorities? “Lady Bardulf is much at court though,” Gunnilde pointed out uneasily. “And so will I be.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt a sudden panic. After all, James had not actually told her that he would not send her packing to Wycliffe Hall. What if that was what the two brothers had been discussing when she walked in on them that morning?

Turning to him in sudden alarm, she was relieved to see him meet her searching gaze with no trace of guilt or discomfort in his own. Gunnilde relaxed. No, she was being foolish. Had they not made a pact of sorts last night? She had promised him that she would help secure him success. He had no reason to get rid of her already. Not before she had the chance to even try.

Seemingly picking up on her disquiet, James cleared his throat. “It’s not really the same in any case. For Gunnilde did not serve the Queen before her marriage.” This time he managed to say her name without stumbling. Gunnilde beamed at him, and his eyes fell away. He almost seemed surprised when he caught sight of a piece of cheese in his hand.

Once the food disappeared, Neville announced his intent to meet with some friends to view some new portrait in the King’s state rooms. The newly married couple were left alone together. “Does your brother have any means of earning his own income?” she asked as the door shut after him.

James snorted and shook his head. “He has a good singing voice,” he said begrudgingly. “But he would not dream of lowering himself by making money from it.”

“Does he intend to marry an heiress too?”

James shot a hard look at her, as though suspecting some slight before answering. “I do not know. He has many friends and acquaintances here at court, but he has yet to show any inclination for matrimony.”

“He is pretty enough to catch a lady’s eye,” Gunnilde said thoughtfully. “Though not as good-looking as you, it’s true.”

He made no response to this, his gaze dwelling once again on her impromptu robe. “Is that my bed cover?” he asked abruptly.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I had nothing else to wear.”

His fingers tapped against the tabletop. “I won’t venture out today,” he announced with sudden decision.