George Villiers

When they'd talked that day in the park -- her birthday, he remembers -- they'd ended up talking about clothes, about how George missed the kind of clothes he'd had when he was a part of the court. Since then, she's made him a handful of things, all beautiful enough that he's kept coming back for more. Whenever he goes to her apartment for a fitting, he makes a point of bringing her something -- sweets, or cakes, or flowers. It is, he thinks, only good manners.

He knocks, a wrapped package under his arm.