Page 54 of A Most Forgettable Girl

That made sense, he supposed, though of course, he had been her future husband all along, not Conway. “Then...how was it worse?”

“Well, you see, quite honestly...”

“He was not as adept as Dickon?” James guessed.

“No, he was not. He sort of kept his mouth open a lot. Also, he had eaten fish at the feast,” she confessed in a rush, “and his moustache was droopy and sort of got in the way.”

James felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for Arthur Conway. “I see.” He fell silent and could feel Gunnilde’s slightly anxious gaze upon him. He lay back down, staring up at the ceiling. “Is there anyone else I should know about?” he asked at last.

“Anyone else?” She shook her head. “The only other person I have kissed is you.”

Now it was his turn to be evasive. He did not want to ask the obvious question. Imagine being told he was a poor kisser. Still, it seemed unfair that he should take all and give nothing in this exchange. She had been so open and frank with him, and he had not been entirely truthful.

It seemed the least he could do was share his own background, however pitiful. “I did not entirely tell the truth when I said I had no experience at all,” he admitted slowly. “You see, when I was fifteen something happened which—” He halted, unsure how to continue.

“Yes? Something happened?” Gunnilde shuffled closer to gaze down at his face. She looked concerned.

James huffed out a breath of air. Best to get it over with at once. “My father took me to a brothel in Caer Lyoness. He thought it was high time I learned about women and how to deal with them. He was drunk, of course.” He gave her a level look. “He’s often drunk,” he added. Gunnilde looked so stricken and mortified on his behalf that he could hardly meet her gaze.

“He was very disappointed when it did not have the desired effect on me. In fact, it had the opposite. I was disgusted. The nudity, the lewdness of it all... I wanted nothing to do with any of it.”

Gunnilde made a noise in her throat. “It must have been very shocking to you,” she said carefully. “After living so sheltered a life with little to no society. To then, suddenly find yourself in such a place and surrounded by...all manner of things. Your father must be the veriest fool of a man!”

James gave a short laugh. “Well, you will find no argument from me there. When I refused to...to partake...to take my pick of the bunch, he made me wait downstairs for him for over an hour. The women were merciless in their teasing of me. They kept touching my face, telling me how beauteous I was and how I shouldn’t be shy. I hated it. Their overpowering perfume, their breath on my face, the way they talked, the mocking way they laughed. Even worse, I hated the men that came through the doors. Men like my father. I never went anywhere with him again.”

“I’m not surprised.” Her expression was grave. “Did you never tell anyone, your mother for instance?”

He shook his head. “I told no one until now. My parents are rarely in accord. It would just have been another cause for strife between them.”

“They have found little happiness in their marriage?”

“They have found none that I am aware of. My mother is an exacting woman with high standards and only my father’s social position ever made him acceptable to her. He is a spendthrift and a drunkard and has accrued many debts over the years. That is why the estate alone does not generate enough income to sustain itself.”

Gunnilde leaned across and placed a careful kiss upon his brow. “Thank you for trusting me with your story, James,” she said sincerely. “I want you to know I mean to be very patient and considerate with you.”

He blinked at her. That had not been his intention; however, he could see the mood had shifted. As usual, he had made things awkward. “It was not my intention to—”

“No, I know, but even so.” She hovered for a moment, looking uncertain of her next move. Then she gave a small nod, and shuffled up the bed, breaking their eye contact. She grabbed her pillow and plumped it down above his own. Once she had it arranged to her satisfaction, she reached for him, wordlessly urging him closer and gently angling his head until it lay against her breast.

“Let us just lie like this awhile,” she said. “Unless you find it uncomfortable.”

James considered this. “It is not uncomfortable,” he said, though his face felt hot, and he was not sure where precisely to put his arms.

“Good.”

After a moment, he simply passed an arm about her and turned into her, fully relaxing into her cushiony warmth. He felt strangely light and unburdened and...yes, relieved. She knew everything, all about his debts, his dissolute father, and why her husband was so woefully inexperienced when it came to the wooing of women, and still she lay here by his side, her arms around him, comforting him.

He had told her of his most shameful memory, a thing he had never thought to tell another living soul. He could not quite believe he done such a thing. And yet, instead of feeling embarrassed or regretful, he felt...strangely elated.

What was it she had said before? Something about a husband and wife being duty bound to accept the other’s flaws and shortcomings as their own and keep them concealed safely away from the world. Such a concept had never occurred to him before. His own parents had certainly not subscribed to such an ideology.

He closed his eyes. The notion appealed to him; how could it fail to, when he was such a flawed individual himself? Certainly, its application so far had been incredibly freeing. Not only had Gunnilde accepted his story quietly and without interruption, but she had also, at its conclusion, expressed herself firmly on his side. She had not apparently found his own part in proceedings laughable or inept. Instead of finding his disgust unfathomable, as his father had, she seemed instead to think it inevitable with the upbringing he had received.

James felt himself drifting off into dreamless sleep as her fingers touched his head, carefully sifting through his hair, her fingertips gently grazing his scalp. At this precise moment in time, it was hard to believe Gunnilde had any faults for him to hide. So, how in the world was he supposed to uphold his side of the bargain?

16

Gunnilde awoke early and lay abed awhile in James’s sleepy embrace. He had scarcely moved a muscle all night, most unusual for him, and had remained wrapped around her until the early hours. Turning her head to look at him, she felt an almost overwhelming wave of tenderness engulf her.