Page 118 of A Most Forgettable Girl

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?”

Both boys assured her that all looked most splendid. “It does you credit, as does your own appearance, my lady,” Kit told her graciously, bowing over her hand. He kissed her fingers with a flourish.

“Don’t be impressed, he practices that gesture on a gauntlet,” Cuthbert said dampeningly.

“Speaking of attire, what the devil have you done to your sleeves, Ames?” Hal enquired. “You got rats in your armoire?”

“My tailor informs me they are the latest thing,” Cuthbert replied off-handedly. “The edges are dagged. Apparently, everyone will be wearing them this way by next spring.”

Gunnilde’s ears pricked up. “Is that so?” Obligingly Cuthbert held out his sleeve to her so she could examine the intricate cutting technique all along the edge.

He tipped his head to one side, looking at Hal’s own elaborately decorated tunic. “White roses,” he mused. “Who have you dressed to match, I wonder?”

Kit made an explosively derisive noise and Hal turned bright red. “Who says I have dressed to match anyone?” he asked belligerently. “I’ll ask you to keep your baseless speculations to yourself!”

Cuthbert ducked his head to hide his grin, and Kit smirked, nudging James in the side.

“Shall I go and tell Bennett to start handing the drinks around?” James asked. “And tell the musicians to start playing?”

“Oh, would you?” Gunnilde cast him a grateful look as he took the empty jewelry case out of her hand.

“I’ll put this somewhere safe,” he said and went off in search of Bennett.

“I like his suit,” Hal observed as all three boys turned to watch him walk away. “Your influence at work, I take it,” he said, glancing at Gunnilde. Her bosom swelled with pride.

“He’d look good even in an old sack,” Kit opined, promptly bringing her back down to earth.

“Maybe, but I believe he’ll attract more patrons this way,” Cuthbert said, meeting her eyes enigmatically. They watched as he gestured to the musicians and the music started up. Almost immediately the atmosphere seemed to take on a jaunty air. Servers filed into the room and started filling the goblets and handing them around.