I blushed deeply but could not confess that I found him uncommonly attractive, so afore I could stop myself I said, “I’ve not seen many men who were near clean shaven before I arrived in London.”
He looked shocked and then he laughed aloud. “Well, mistress, do speak your mind.”
“I meant no offense,” I said.
“Nay, offense not taken, especially from such a charming girl,” he said. He smiled in a manner that obliged a like response, willing or not, and I smiled back. A woman several years older than I with the fragrance of good manners swept up behind him and without a word of introduction presented herself for conversation. I took it by her familiar manner that she knew James well, and bowed my head a bit to take my leave. He caught my arm and held it, not tightly enough to hurt but enough that I knew he meant to have my attention. “May I enquire after your name?”
“Mistress St. John,” I reminded him.
He shook his head. “I should like to know your given name.”
“Juliana,” I answered to the impatience of the lady, who now placed her hand on his arm.
“Juliana,” he repeated. “I shall remember it.” Then he bowed and left with his companion.
Later that night, after Lucy had brushed out my hair, I considered, with dismay, that he had called me a charming girl. I did not wish to be looked upon as a girl whilst in Lady Latimer’s elegant household, but rather as a woman.
We rose early the next morn to hunt after Lady Latimer sent fresh horses ahead with some of her stable boys. I was thankful that my father had been fond of finery and that when he procured cloth for his trading he’d also made sure that my mother, my brother, and myself were properly attired, as befitting our station. My mother had lost a babe betwixt me and Hugh and had none after him so my father doted inordinately upon us two. Lucy helped me into a riding suit of wheat-colored velvet that set off my dark hair, combed to a lustrous sheen. “Canna have Mistress Dorothy looking finer than you, m’lady, if’n ’twere possible. Which it aren’t.”
I grinned at her and she continued to glide the brush through my hair.
Lady Margaret Neville instructed a stable boy to give me a fine horse and then I set off with the others. I shall remember to thank her later, I thought, and find a way to repay her for these small kindnesses. Dorothy rode beside me and we made pleasant but wary conversation about our reading and our homes. “You are a fine rider,” I told her, complimenting her gladly, as it was true.
“Thank you,” she said. “As are you. Your riding outfit is perfectly suited to your coloring.”
I then looked at her riding outfit, which was slightly threadbare, and saw that some of her jewels were chipped. Though I knew her family to be more highly placed than my own, I wondered if they had fallen upon difficult times. Mayhap that was the source of her barbs. She saw me looking at her outfit and then spurred on her horse without another word.
I was confused. I hadn’t drawn my gaze to Dorothy’s clothing till she’d noted mine, and then only so I might offer a compliment in return. I was left riding by myself, till one of Lady Latimer’s ladies rode alongside me and made pleasant conversation. I slowed my horse to meet hers and smiled at her gratefully. She smiled back knowingly.
The greyhounds ran ahead of us. Some men of Lady Latimer’s household returned to Charterhouse with the morning’s kill whilst we spread out among the tables and cushions set up for the day’s dinner. ’Twas a generous spread and I was about to indulge myself in a second serving of strawberries, unheard of at my home, when I felt someone come alongside me.
“Ah, strawberries. My favorite fruit. Yours too, I presume, Mistress Juliana?” I turned to face the teasing blue eyes of James Hart. He held his hand out to me, I held out my own in return, and he brushed his lips against my knuckles before letting go.
I had nearly forgotten the question but recovered myself enough to answer. “I had not tasted them before today, Sir James, but yes, I do believe they are a particular favorite now.”
He grinned. “I admire that you do not pretend to have eaten of them often when you have not. And thank you for the honor, but I am simply James, no ‘sir.’ I am not knighted. Yet.”
“James. ’Tis not a particularly Irish name,” I said more to myself.
“Ah, then. You think mayhap my name should be Patrick or Seamus and my sister’s name Siobhan? Would that be Irish enough for you, mistress?” His eyes were still alight but I sensed hurt behind them. I, however, was not to be cowed by one not yet a knight, especially as I had meant no harm.
“I think your name should be Incorrigible and your sister’s name must surely be Patience!”
He threw his head back and laughed, and all caution fled his eyes. “I have no sister, only brothers. And it would please me if you’d call me Jamie. My friends do. And before you tell me that Jamie is not a particularly Irish nickname, ’twas given me by my Scots nurse.”
“Jamie, then,” I said, and smiled without caution in return.
“Would you care to walk with me?” He indicated the large clearing in which the hunting party reposed.
I nodded. As long as I stayed within eyesight, surely there was no harm. I glanced at Lady Latimer, sitting with her sister, Lady Herbert. Lady Herbert had been in charge of Queen Catherine Howard’s jewels afore the king dispatched that young queen heavenward rather sooner than she’d envisioned her departure. Sir Thomas and several of his men, as honored guests, sat with those highest-born ladies too.
I placed my hand in the crook of James’s arm. “I’ve heard that Sir Thomas will be leaving soon for battle in Austria. Will you go with him? I know that he will shortly take his leave and represent the king, joining forces while the emperor fights the Turks.”
“I shall, for the time being. I hope to win some battles. And my knighthood,” James said.
“Shall you be afraid of sailing, or of battle?”
He smiled. “Nay, Juliana. I am eager for battle, to prove myself. And I am comfortable at sea. My family is a shipping family, and we do business with the Seymours, which is how I came to be attached to his household. My brother Oliver spoke with Sir Thomas’s older brother. They became great friends. But Sir Thomas, as an oft-overlooked younger brother himself, had an eye to helping me make a name and enjoy the fruit”—he looked down upon his strawberry-stained fingers—“of the world outside Ireland. He’s brought me to London, with my brother’s full approval, and I work both for his interests and for my family’s, in a partnership. My father was English, God rest his soul.” He paused afore continuing.
“My mother is Irish, and whilst she sees no reason for the Irish to need English training nor anything else English, she knows that King Henry has reaffirmed himself as king of Ireland and it behooves us to see how the wind blows. She’s also raised enough boys to know a man needs to make his own way.”
I wondered if Lady Hurworth understood that a man needed to make his own way, or if Matthias even had a care to find that way for himself. A thought came to mind. I knew it was faintly saucy, but I said it anyway. “I have a particular fondness for a certain Irishman.” ’Twas the sort of thing women said. Not girls.
Jamie raised his eyebrows in pretended shock.
“I’m fond of a kindly Irish priest who took me under his wing when my father passed on,” I admitted with a grin.
James laughed, and I talked about my own home and family, and how my father had considered many Turks his friends, though they be infidels.
He drew near to me—it was both discomfiting and welcome. It was nothing akin to being near Matthias; instead, I was overwarmed, breathless, and pink, as though I’d drunk deeply of wine that had not first been watered. I could grow fond of the Irish scruff rather than a full beard and looked upon with favor the manner in which it highlighted his jaw and lips.