Page 51 of A Most Forgettable Girl

“You are inordinately fond of taverns?” he guessed again, scrubbing at his neck. This would be somewhat surprising, considering her avowed wish to mingle with the highest ladies in the land.

“Not especially,” she admitted, “no. It is just that I thought it might be a useful exercise.”

“Useful?” he echoed, lowering the washcloth. “In what way?”

“Well, to...to experience the sort of music that Aphranians wish to listen to in their free time. The music that is popular among folk at large.”

James picked up the drying cloth and ran it over his neck and shoulders. “So then, this is for my benefit?”

“Yes,” she agreed eagerly, sitting up in the bed. “Do you remember my saying how I mean to aid you in furthering your career?”

James had to avert his eyes. The motion set her breasts bouncing and her shift concealed next to nothing. Their truce was giving him new...unanticipated problems. He cleared his throat. “As my helpmeet?”

“Yes, precisely.” She settled back on her pillows, patting the space on the bed next to her. “Come, and tell me if you think the idea has merit.”

James replaced the drying cloth and walked over to the bed. “Perhaps,” he lied, lifting the blanket and sliding in beside her. If she wanted, he would trail around the taverns with her, but he expected precious little by way of inspiration. “You imagine this will instill in me a newfound love of ballads and help me appeal to the masses,” he guessed.

“Yes, that is my hope,” she agreed readily, turning onto her side toward him. A smile tugged at his lips at her ready honesty. He gave way to it, and she immediately looked relieved.

“Do you know, I think we are becoming quite familiar with one another and settling into married life together quite nicely,” she said, astonishing him greatly.

“You think so?” he muttered. They were not yet as familiar as he would have liked, if he was being entirely truthful.

“Yes, for few husbands would have taken today’s events in their stride as you have,” she continued blithely. “My brother and his friends are a rare handful; I am well aware.”

He frowned. Sometimes he thought Gunnilde’s expectations of him were rather low. “Does not every knight who eats at your father’s table have to train up their own squire as a mere matter of course?”

She snorted. “Maybe so. But as I am sure you have gathered, many of the knights of this realm have shirked their duties this season by sending their squires to Aphrany unattended. It is a most shocking thing for they must know they cannot be trusted to behave themselves.”

“I expect they feel in need of respite,” James said, thinking of the likes of Cosgrave and Peterson and Bauer and his bony elbow. If any of them were his squire he’d make sure to abandon them at any given opportunity.

Gunnilde reached up and touched a cool hand to his swollen eye, making him startle. “Your poor eye,” she lamented.

He cleared his throat again and her hand fell away. “It’s really nothing.”

“Indeed, it is not! It is infamous. I am quite vexed with Hal. People will get entirely the wrong impression of you and think you are some kind of rough customer.” She sounded so put out on his behalf that James felt oddly gratified.

He shook his head. “Anyone who knows me will be well aware I am no fighter.”

“I will be sure to tell everyone exactly how it occurred,” she assured him, “so that no foul rumors spread.”

“I beg you will not!” James said in alarm. “I will sound ridiculous in such a retelling. Besides, you surely do not wish to embroil your brother in the tale, lest any repercussions should arise from the incident.”

Gunnilde’s face fell. “You mean you, too, think the Squires’ Revels might end up being canceled?”

He shook his head. “It’s unlikely, I would say. They are too newly arrived for anyone to have attached names to faces yet. If they are lucky, no one will suffer any consequences for today’s encounter.”

She appeared relieved, then appeared to remember something, biting her lip. “Though Hal gave his name to Mistress Rheinholdt, did he not?”

“Yes, but if they are friendly now, it seems unlikely she will betray him.”

Gunnilde seemed skeptical. “She does not seem remotely friendly to me! Besides, one of the servers may still be able to point the ringleaders out.”

“And risk offending some influential family? Unlikely. You have to put yourself in their shoes.”

She looked thoughtful. “I suppose that is true. Speaking of servants, Bennett was a good deal more obliging this evening, did you not think?”

He did. Four courses of food being brought up from the kitchen was unprecedented in his experience. “Most uncharacteristically so,” he agreed. “Do you suppose it was down to Cuthbert’s influence?”