Page 127 of A Most Forgettable Girl

Hal’s expression cleared. “Oh, like that, is it?” He seized the ale jug and shoved it in James’s direction. “I know Farleigh, of course. Saw him take the Newcomer’s Cup at Areley Kings last year. They say he’s shown a lot of improvement since Kentigern took him under his wing. He’s always been good on a horse,” he added judiciously.

“Bet he feels a fool being dragged back to court like that by his in-laws,” Kit remarked. “I would.”

“Poor Sir Douglas,” Gunnilde murmured, thinking of his unwavering devotion to Constance. This must be quite a blow for him. Neville looked across at her and gave a quick shake of his head, as though in warning.

At her surprised look, he tipped his head in James’s direction but when she looked toward her husband he was draining his ale cup. Neville coughed apologetically. “They say her uncles are insisting that her former betrothal is legally binding.”

James slammed his cup down. “I am sure by now they must have heard of my own subsequent marriage, nullifying that.”

“Aye, that’s true enough,” Hal reflected. “They cannot possibly remain in ignorance of it. Not now they’re here at the palace. Somone’s sure to have told them.”

“Mayhap they think two annulments could be procured as easily as one,” Cuthbert suggested.

Gunnilde’s heart thudded. Two annulments? Her head reeled. She cast a quick look toward the high table but neither the King nor the Queen was in attendance tonight. Could Constance’s uncles have approached them already?

For some reason she could not bring herself to look at James. What if his expression betrayed some emotion she could not face? Like hopefulness. At this point a platter of quails and larks with jelly was slammed down on their table. Gunnilde’s stomach turned over and she realized she would have no appetite tonight.

It was two courses later that an attendant appeared at Gunnilde’s elbow, presenting her with a letter. She took it with thanks and turned it over to peer at the seal.

“What’s on that crest, an eagle?” Kit asked, proving to have very sharp eyes.

“It’s a martlet,” Cuthbert answered without removing his eyes from his plate.

“A martlet?” Hal repeated. “Does not Farleigh’s shield feature—?”

Neville elbowed him, and her brother cut off his words as an embarrassed hush fell over the table.

“Sir Douglas and I were formerly on the most cordial terms,” Gunnilde said with dignity. “No doubt he feels himself in need of a friend.”

“Why not open your letter and find out?” James asked. “If he requested it to be delivered to you in person, he must consider it a matter of urgency.” He did not look at her but kept his attention on his plate of roast boar.

Gunnilde hesitated, then reached for the note, breaking it open and scanning the page. The note was short and to the point.

Mistress Payne, it began. I find myself in a situation most dire and could do with your wise counsel. Could you meet me in our usual appointed place? I will be there waiting when the clock strikes midnight in the chance you can slip away. I remain your obedient servant, D. Farleigh.

Gunnilde flushed. What could Douglas be thinking? She had never before met with him at such a late hour, and though they had met several times in the knot garden, there had always been other courtiers strolling about the nearby pathways. At midnight there would be no one in the vicinity. Such a meeting would be highly improper.

Taking a deep breath, she passed the missive sideways to James, trying not to look as guilty as she felt. He took it from her and perused it with a flinty expression. Seeing his eyebrows shoot up, Gunnilde took an anxious gulp of wine.

“He refers to the knot garden,” she said her words almost falling over each other. “We used to meet there sometimes, to talk about, well, you know, his feelings.” She threw him a look of appeal. “He—he must be heartbroken and quite desperate about his current predicament.”

“He expects you to sneak out of our rooms under the cover of darkness,” James said in a biting tone. “No doubt while your husband lies in blissful ignorance, sleeping.”

“No! I—I don’t think he can realize I am married!” Gunnilde broke in. “Only see how he addresses me as Mistress Payne!”

“Or mayhap he simply does not choose to acknowledge it,” James replied in freezing tones.

“Well, I never dreamed Farleigh was such a saucy knave,” Kit marveled, lowering the letter.

Gunnilde realized with horror they must have been passing it about the table. She made a grab for it. “Indeed, he is not!” she huffed.

“Hie! I never got to read that!” Neville complained as she snatched it back.

“You misunderstand the situation entirely!” Gunnilde insisted, ignoring her brother-in-law’s chagrin.

“I don’t know about that,” Hal said sternly. “But no sister of mine is going to be sneaking off to clandestine meetings in the middle of the night, and so I shall tell him! Who’s with me? He’ll get the shock of his life to find us waiting for him at midnight instead!” he concluded grimly.

“Sorry to spoil your plans, Hal,” James interrupted firmly, “but I think you’ll find Gunnilde’s husband is the correct person to deal with this, not her brother.”