Page 26 of A Most Forgettable Girl

“Hal says it means ‘valiant fighter.’”

“Oh, does it?” The King looked somewhat mollified. “Good fighter, is he?”

“Not at all,” Gunnilde admitted. “He is undersized and timid, but Hal says it does not signify for he can do the fighting for both of them.”

The King blinked. “He can do the fighting for both of them?” he repeated, then gave a startled chuckle. “That’s a good one. Who is this brother of yours? What’s his estate?”

By the time they left the apartments, Gunnilde had told the King all about Hal, Tranton Vale, and the tournament her father hosted annually. It only occurred to her as they left that she might have talked a little too much. She fancied the group who had been waiting behind theirs eyed her somewhat resentfully as they exited.

“Who was that waiting for admission behind us?” she whispered to James as they made their way out into the next room and then into the corridor.

He shrugged, glancing behind them. “I did not notice.”

“I believe they were a little tired of waiting.”

“I think we all were.”

Gunnilde bit her lip. “Yes, but is it possible that I monopolized the King somewhat?”

At this point the Portstanleys interrupted them to take their leave for they were going straight to a lecture on astral influences. For a moment, Gunnilde experienced a sinking fear James might suggest they joined them.

She had known deep down that the portrait viewing had not been to his taste. Still, instead of taking this opportunity to be revenged on her, he simply added his farewells and watched mother and daughter walk away discussing the program of events.

“Gunnilde,” he said suddenly, “if a king bids you speak, you have precious little choice in the matter. You did naught amiss.”

She caught her breath. Was that the first time he had addressed her by name? For some reason, it struck her that way. When she remained silent, he turned to look at her expectantly. “Yes, I suppose that is true enough,” she agreed.

“Though you might want to bear in mind it was the role of Queen’s favorite you coveted, not King’s,” he said, glancing away.

“Oh! I hardly think I need worry about that!” she scoffed.

He leveled a wry look her way. “I notice you did not correct him about your name, Hilde.”

She gave an awkward laugh. “It hardly seemed diplomatic. Besides, it is close enough, is it not? My grandmother used to call me Nilde.”

For a moment he looked as though he would argue the point, then changed his mind. “You were not lying when you said you were a fond sister, were you?” he said.

The change in subject threw her for a moment. “When did I—?” Then she remembered that day when they had nearly quarreled and Constance had taken such grave offence. “Oh! No, I—I did not lie.” Why was he thinking of that time? she wondered uneasily. Had they not smoothed things over between them since then? “I’m afraid I was quite rude to you that day,” she blurted. “I regret it now. It was simply because I felt so very deeply on my friend’s behalf. I hope you can, well, overlook it now.”

Without discussing it, they seemed to be heading back toward their quarters. “You felt for...Constance you mean,” he said awkwardly and flushed. Interesting that he was now pausing before speaking the name of his former affianced, she observed.

For the first time it occurred to her that perhaps his feelings had been more involved than she had comprehended. She had not realized before that half of his rudeness was down to awkwardness.

“Well, to be perfectly frank, it was Sir Douglas who stood more my friend than Constance,” she admitted. “You see he asked me for my help, and if you had only seen how earnestly and sincerely—”

“Sir Douglas?” he repeated in an odd tone. “It was Sir Douglas who you considered your particular friend?”

Gunnilde took a deep breath. “Yes, you see Constance and I, well, we did not exactly have the same interests in life. I knew Sir Douglas of old, for he has attended my father’s tourney for several years, first as a squire and then as a knight in his own right. It was at his request that I made the effort to befriend Constance and plead his cause with her.”

Oh dear, it was all so difficult. She could not possibly confess that she found Constance’s company somewhat...wearing. Especially now she suspected James might admire that lady rather more than she had first thought.

“I suppose Farleigh was one of the men you were always whispering in corners with,” he asked, his words cutting across her thoughts.

“Yes,” she agreed absently.

His head whipped about to pin her with a stare. “You could at least deny it!”

Deny it? “But why would I? I just explained...” Her words faltered. Why was he looking so out of reason cross?