Page 44 of A Most Forgettable Girl

He narrowed his gaze. “You would surely have seen her there.” There was much rustling of skirts and whispering behind hands until James lost patience with them altogether and turned pointedly to the nearest one. “Lady Osanna, have you any idea where I might find my wife?”

Osanna Spencer straightened in her seat. “She did not accompany us to break her fast, Sir James, for she was had the distinction of being singled out by Her Highness and invited to dine with her in her private chambers.”

This pulled him up short. “Is that not somewhat unusual?” he asked, glancing around the table.

“’Tis highly unusual!” cut in another of the ladies, Frances Lessimore this time. “And a thing usually reserved for her most particular favorite.”

“Yes, but The Bartree is there too, so she has not been deposed yet,” pointed out Patience Stanhope. A few titters greeted this and a few head tosses.

“All morning, she and The Bartree have been quarrelling over the Queen’s favor!” cut in Emma Thackeray excitedly. “It has been most diverting!” The others immediately shushed her and elbowed her into silence.

“Do not pay any attention to Emma,” Lucy Melvin said loudly. “For she gets the silliest notions into her head!”

“No, I do not!” Emma objected. “We all agreed they were vying for Her Majesty’s attention, did we not?” Another round of shushing and from Emma’s winces, a good deal of ankle kicking occurred this time. Finally taking the hint, Emma lapsed into a pouting silence.

“We’ve found a table,” said a voice at James’s side. It was Hal. “Come and join us.” He gave an admiring glance around the table and bestowed a flourishing bow. “Ladies,” he said and seizing James by the elbow, drew him firmly away.

“They’re a pretty company of women,” Hal said appreciatively. “You must introduce us later, Wycliffe,” he said, steering James toward a far table.

“Well, those particular ladies are not being very kind to your sister at present!” James observed dryly.

“Aren’t they?” He glanced back at them over his shoulder. “Ah well, I daresay they’re just jealous.” He shrugged.

James dropped down onto the bench he indicated and found himself at a table full of squires, all craning to look at him. Kit Montmayne gave him a nod and pushed an empty tankard in his direction.

“Who are jealous?” Hadrian Kellingford enquired chirpily.

“The Queen’s ladies are all jealous of Gunnilde,” Hal replied quite unabashed, seizing hold of a pitcher of ale from a passing servant and sloshing it into the cups.

“Oh, because she landed Wycliffe, you mean?” asked another with a snub nose and freckles. James bristled to find himself discussed so openly in his own presence, but they barely seemed to notice his discomfort.

“Sure to be,” opined another youth loftily. “Women are rather like cats, you know. They like to show their claws. Like to sink ’em in you too. You should watch your step, Payne. Your fondness for their company will get you in trouble one of these days my lad, mark my words!”

Hal snorted. “You fear what you do not know, Cosgrave. Let me tell you, you’re missing out.”

“Oh gods, don’t let him get started on this again!” Kit groaned. He looked across at James. “Hal is always holding forth about women. It’s one of his favorite subjects.”

“Is it?” James was startled. He had certainly not had time to think about women during his own time as a squire. Or since that time, if he was honest. He eyed his brother-in-law’s appearance anew. Hal was a stout young fellow with a shock of tow-colored hair like his sister’s only cut much shorter. He had a confident bearing, a booming voice, and an open, honest face.

Out of his friends he was probably the least prepossessing for Cuthbert and Kit were very good-looking. Then again, Cuthbert’s conversation was disconcerting to say the least, and Kit scowled too much to be considered truly amiable company. Out of the three of them, was it possible that Hal was the most popular?

“Hal’s got this preposterous theory,” Kit said, leaning forward, “that every woman, every woman mind you, has something pretty about her. Even if it’s something like her hands or her ankles or her manner of speech.”

“And I fully stand by that statement,” Hal said, glancing around and hailing a servant approaching with a platter of bread. “Ah, there’s the fellow.” He slapped him on the shoulder and complimented his skill on balancing several trays at once.

“Hal is popular with ladies and servants alike,” Cuthbert commented quietly. “They all like him. Young or old. My own granny says she would swap me for him given half the chance.”

Hal laughed at something the servant said, and James noticed him set down a second lot of bread likely intended for another table. There was an inelegant scramble and James was grateful there were two lots, or he would have ended up entirely breadless.

“Hal may be popular,” Kit said waspishly, “but is it any wonder when he’s so indiscriminate in his tastes? He’ll woo anyone who gives him the time of day!” Snub Nose hooted with laughter.

“Montmayne speaks true,” said Cosgrave. “Payne spent over an hour holding Hortense Latimer’s hand and parading her about at Areley Kings as though she was some fine lady in need of escort,” he said derisively.

“And what if I did?” asked Hal through a mouthful of bread. “She’s a very nice girl. I’ll wager I had a better time of it than you did, Cosgrave. You got booted from the bohort and your master gave you a thick ear for your pains, did he not?”

The other boys laughed, and Cosgrave looked sulky. “A good time?” he jeered. “Why, ’cos she sneaked you half a dozen pies after supper.”

“They were excellent pies,” Hal reminisced fondly. “A good mix of sweet and savory. Besides, Hortense is a good talker once she gets going. You just have to give her a chance. Told me all her hopes and fears, gave me a tour of the grounds there and said she would look out for me next year.” Hal looked smug.