Page 65

G unnilde’s feet paced once more the length of their designated function room to check everything was in place and looking as it should.

The second largest dining hall had been the one allocated for their use in the end, as the lower gallery was not deemed large enough to house all the musicians they now required.

Now space was no longer an issue, Gunnilde found herself apprehensive that they could fill the room.

What if no guests turned up? She let her eye wander over the large fireplace which she had spent all afternoon festooning with holly and ivy.

As far as Gunnilde knew, it was the first of the decorations put up in the palace, for they decorated very late in the season in royal residences.

Dozens of candles were lit and suspended all about to give the room a warm, inviting glow. The silver goblets glinted, reflecting their light, and the red and white berries glistened against the vivid greenery of their leaves.

It looked very well, she told herself. Everything looked as it should. No one could find fault with the provisions that had been arranged. Gods, she hoped enough people turned up to eat all the food and drink all the wine they had ordered in!

“Milady?”

Turning, she found their manservant hovering with a disapproving look on his face.

“Yes, Bennett?” The wonder of it was that he had decided to prioritize them for once instead of the Ashdowns. Bennett had made himself useful all afternoon, fetching and carrying for her and ably assisting with the draping of leaves. She had been quite impressed with him. “What is it?”

He drew himself up. “The musicians have arrived.” His tone was much as though he was announcing the arrival of bailiffs. Bennett, it seemed, did not approve of musicians.

“Oh good! Please show them in. You know where we agreed they should set up.”

He inclined his head and turned on his heel to admit them.

“Gunnilde!” It was James, coming in the opposite double doorway, a frown upon his handsome face.

She caught her breath to see him in the splendor of his purple velvet and gold.

She had never seen him displayed to such advantage!

If he was to be painted, it should be wearing that, she thought dreamily. He looked an absolute vision!

“Are you listening to what I’m saying?” he asked abruptly, coming to a halt before her.

She started guiltily, throwing him a look of enquiry. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“Why did you not wait for me?” he asked.

“I wanted to ensure all was made ready,” she explained apologetically. “I could not rest until I had. What do you think?” she asked, biting her lip.

His gaze flickered briefly around the room before coming back to dwell on her, specifically the low cut of her neckline. “I thought you said your gown wasn’t a flaunting one.”

“Flaunting?” She glanced down at her velvet and cloth of gold gown. “Do you think so? Signor Castellar called it ‘regally commanding.’ You do not like it?”

“I did not say that.” He paused. “It certainly draws the eye, but then”—he shrugged—“you always draw my eye.”

She held up her arms so that he could see the gold stitched detail on her tippets. “Do you see my Wycliffe unicorns?”

He gave a faint smile. “Yes.”

“I must say, you look quite devastating,” she said, taking in the cut of his purple doublet with the gold trim. The deep slashes in his sleeves displayed the sumptuous cloth of gold beneath. “Master Hughes has excelled himself. We must certainly employ his services again.”

“You will kindly note my paneled hose, for was that not a complaint of yours in the early days of our marriage?” At her confused look, he added, “That I did not wear them.”

“Oh. Well, I was quite right, for these look wonderful on you,” she said, her admiring gaze sweeping down to his legs.

“What about yours?” he asked, lowering his voice. “Did you buy a new pair of fifteen-shilling stockings as instructed?”

“I did,” she assured him.

“I suppose I am to take that on trust,” he replied, a gleam in his eye.

Gunnilde hesitated, then caught her heavy velvet skirts in her two hands and lifted them to reveal her ankles. “How do you like them?” she asked.

“Very nice, though I am disappointed you did not have time to get your slippers embroidered.”

“The next pair I will,” she consoled him.

“Until then, I have this for you.” He handed over a carved wooden box.

Gunnilde took it with a questioning look, then ran her fingers over the lid, which was carved with the image of a seated unicorn. “Oh, James, it’s lovely! I could keep my brooch in it. The one the Queen gave me.” Her hand flew to touch the jewel pinned to her bodice as though it was a talisman.

“It already has something in it,” he replied.

“Oh?” Unlatching the lid, she found a pearl necklet nestled within the silk lining. “James!”

“It’s just a short string,” he said, lifting them out of the box. “But look here at the pendant.”

Gunnilde peered closely and saw a round gold disc bearing the impression of a heraldic beast. “A unicorn,” she exclaimed. “And are those my initials beneath it?”

“They are.”

“I love it!” Her face fell. “But I did not think we were currently in funds,” she said, lowering her voice. “However did you afford it?”

“I bought it with the proceeds from that piece I sold to Lady Schaeffer. Here, let me put it on you.”

Gunnilde turned about, scooping up her hair and veil so that he could fasten it about her neck. She placed a hand on the pearls where they sat proudly at the base of her neck. “How do they look?”

“They are the perfect length for you.”

“You mean because my neck is short,” she said without rancor. “It is rather. I wish I had a swanlike neck like Frances Lessimore but my figure is not at all elegant.”

“A swanlike neck on a woman would look patently absurd,” James replied dismissively.

Gunnilde sighed. “At least your black eye has practically disappeared now,” she said, reaching up to briefly touch his brow. He leaned down and, to her surprise, kissed her firmly on the lips.

“Look lively. Here comes your brother.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she spied Hal on the threshold, resplendent in a bright green tunic decorated all over with white roses. Spotting them, he hurried over.

“Well, I must say you’ve done yourself proud, sister,” he said, looking around with approval. “It all looks very well, very well indeed.”

Gunnilde was gratified. “You will not be embarrassed to introduce the prince around, I hope.”

“Gods, no! Not that I think he’ll come. He’s a taciturn little beast at the best of times. Never know what he’s thinking.”

Gunnilde’s eyebrows rose. Over the past week Hal’s, Cuthbert’s, and Kit’s enthusiasm had waned somewhat for their roles in Prince Raedan’s retinue. “You did invite him though?” she asked anxiously. Hal nodded but clearly did not hold out any hope he would show.

Gunnilde had caught sight of Prince Raedan only twice since he had come to court.

The first time had been during supper one night in the Great Hall, where she had craned her neck along with everyone else to catch a glimpse of him.

They had all been rather disappointed, for the young prince was a stony-faced boy, with little by way of charm or wit to recommend him.

The prince had surveyed all around him with cold disinterest, while his father tried to bluster his way through supper, talking loudly and boisterously while young Raedan sat there like an effigy, unmoved and unfeeling, while everyone fell over themselves in an effort to ingratiate themselves.

The second time she had seen him, the prince was being escorted down the long gallery by Earl Vawdrey, who was giving him the palace tour.

Excited whispers started as he approached the portrait of Marguerite of Lascony, a niece of Queen Armenal’s who was rumored to be a front-runner in the field of prospective brides for the heir apparent.

Gunnilde had a fondness for Marguerite’s painting, for she wore a pair of preposterously large jeweled sleeves which she admired very much, and moreover had wonderfully elegant hands.

The prince halted a moment in front of her portrait, and everyone held their breath, wondering if he would say something pithy about his possible future bride.

In this, as in everything else, Prince Raedan disappointed them, for after passing his eyes over it, he moved along without comment. At this point everyone had decided that Prince Raedan was something of a lost cause.

“No, he doesn’t give much away, does he?” Gunnilde said sadly. “Still, I wish he would come. It would be quite the coup for us, for he has snubbed every other courtier event, has he not?”

Hal snorted. “He can barely muster any enthusiasm for the events thrown in his honor by his own father, the King!”

“Has he attended much of the Revels so far?” James asked with a flicker of interest.

“Oh yes, but he shows precious little interest in proceedings. Cold-blooded, that’s what he is.

Less of an Argent lion and more of a codfish!

” Hal glanced around. “Ah, here they are!” he said, hailing his friends.

“Over here! Gads,” he said in an aside, “they will be tripping over the points of those shoes before long, if they are not careful!”

Kit and Cuthbert entered the room in their finest arraignment.

Kit looked a little self-conscious in a short doublet of bright blue, which he kept tugging down over his tights, while Cuthbert wore a tunic of sumptuous red velvet with white fur-lined sleeves all scalloped and cut around the edges.

As Hal had pointed out, both boys wore the exaggeratedly long-toed shoes that were currently so fashionable.

“I’m so glad you’ve come early to set my nerves at rest,” Gunnilde greeted them. “Now tell me, do you think there is anything amiss with the way the room is presented?”