Page 18 of The Subtle Craft of Courting Kate

“Oh, come, it’s years too late for you to have become such a prude,” Elliot said as he reclaimed his own seat, and laid one hand upon the arm of the couch. “You forget I knew you at school.” To Kate he confided, as he patted the open seat beside him in invitation, “Difficult as it might be to believe, Richard once aspired to be a rake.”

Kate blinked, fascinated, her eyes straying to Richard even as her feet carried her absently across the floor toward the space Elliot had indicated. “Was he, really?”

“No.” Elliot grinned. “Oh, he wanted to be. Had grand designs upon the idea, as I recall. Resolved to cut a swath through London, sowing his wild oats.”

Wide-eyed, Kate sat beside him, attention so thoroughly captured he was certain she hadn’t even realized that her thigh was nearly pressed against his own. “What happened?” she asked.

“Rebecca.” Elliot paused to take a sip of his wine, sliding a good-natured, taunting glance at Richard, who had sunk down in his seat with a groan of sound humiliation. “At our very first society event once we’d left university. She’d made her come-out only a few weeks prior. One glance and he was smitten—and they were married by the end of the Season.”

“No thanks to my father,” Rebecca said. “If he’d had his way, I would have married Elliot.”

Kate choked upon her wine, covering her mouth with her fingertips to stifle the brief coughing fit that followed. “Really?” she gasped. “Elliot?”

“Oh, yes,” Rebecca said, smiling behind her wine glass. “I had a rather impressive dowry, and Papa was certain that Richard was only a fortune hunter. He is only the second viscount Crewe, you know, and the title did not come with a grand fortune or vast estate. Papa would have preferred the third son of a duke to the relatively recent creation that was Richard’s title for me. And Elliot was such a shameless flirt that I’m certain he gave Papa the mistaken impression he was angling for me.”

“I beg your pardon!” Elliot jolted upright in high offense. “Is it my fault, then, if some should mistake geniality for interest?” A scoff, and a piqued roll of his shoulders. “A shameless flirt, indeed. And here I thought I was doing you a service, Rebecca.” He nudged Kate’s shoulder with his own. “Richard was so much in my company that so long as Rebecca’s papa pushed her toward me, he pushed her toward Richard, as well. By the time her papa caught on to their surreptitious courtship, they were both mad for one another. Only a villain would have parted them, then.”

“Do you know,” Rebecca said reflectively, “Now that I think on it, we’re hardly the only couple you’ve had a hand in making. You have got a distinct talent for directing women away from yourself and toward someone else.”

“You’re something of a matchmaker, then?” Mrs. Littlefield asked.

“However unintentionally,” Elliot allowed. “Of course it is somewhat easier when they come at me single file.” A heavy sigh drifted from his lungs. “These last weeks have been unendurable. I’m under siege, I tell you—I nudge one lady toward a potential suitor, and the next slots herself neatly into the place once occupied by her predecessor, and there is simply no end to them.” Suspiciously, his gaze slanted toward Rebecca. “How many unmarried ladies must I endure tonight?”

“Only four,” Rebecca said lightly, her lips twitching.

“Only four. Lord.” Elliot cast back the last of his wine and grasped desperately for Kate’s hand. “For the love of God, Katie. I am depending upon your good, sound judgment,” he said, squeezing her hand in his.

His heart pounded in his chest when Kate squeezed his fingers back. Probably it was only longstanding loyalty and friendship—but damned if it hadn’t felt like something a little more.

∞∞∞

“Take a breath,” Rebecca advised, sotto voce, as she handed Kate a fresh glass of wine. “You’ve been doing quite well so far.”

“I suppose I was,” Kate mused aloud as she watched the scene playing out at the opposite side of the drawing room, in which Elliot was presently playing the starring role, however unwillingly. “Until just recently. I ought to rescue him, don’t you think?” It would be the kind thing to do. The sort of thing Elliot had been relying upon her for.

Rebecca gave a muted hum of a laugh. “Not just yet,” she said. “It is heartily amusing, you must admit. And you ought to be permitted just a few moments of private satisfaction. Just to tweak his nose a bit, since he has dragged you into his debacle.” She laid one hand on Kate’s shoulder and squeezed. “Be honest. You’re enjoying yourself, just a little.”

And that was the trouble of it—Kate wasn’t entirely certain she was. She had been, for the majority of the evening. Rebecca and Richard were kind and gracious hosts, and as the guests had slowly trickled in, gathering in the drawing room before the announcement of dinner, Kate’s anxiety had faded somewhat. Elliot had remained by her side as if he’d been glued there, and there had been something almost satisfying about it, to have been so much depended upon.

When they had been called in to dinner at last, Kate had found herself seated to Elliot’s right and her mother to Elliot’s left, and together they had formed a neat little shield around him. Despite her worries, she seemed to have made no faux pas during dinner—at least, not that anyone had noticed or had drawn attention to. It had only been after the conclusion of dinner, as the ladies had withdrawn to the drawing room that things had begun, slowly but surely, to fall apart.

Absent the presence of the men, many of the ladies—and mamas—present had dropped all pretenses of reserve, and Kate had found herself inundated with prying questions about Elliot’s interests, about the nature of her relationship with him, about all manner of things which she had not even the faintest of idea how to answer…or if she even ought to do so. Then there had come almost comical heights of boasting of various accomplishments and skills, which Kate had gathered was she was meant to convey to Elliot.

Kate had had to contend with the fact that Elliot had in no way exaggerated the severity of his situation. That the dear friend of her youth, with whom she had climbed trees and waded through streams, was so much sought after.

She had also had to contend with the fact that he had looked so dashing in his evening wear that for a long, fraught moment when she had first come downstairs, she had hardly recognized him. That a simple compliment from him had made her heart run away in her chest and brought a flood of heat to her cheeks.

Eventually, the gentlemen had finished up their port and conversation and had repaired to the drawing room to rejoin the ladies, and that—that was when the chaos had unfolded all over again. Elliot had had the opportunity only to lift his hand in greeting to Kate before he had been set upon.

Kate supposed it was the tiniest bit her fault. She half-suspected the ladies present had lain in wait all evening just for the opportunity to ambush her, but as she had failed to provide any particular assurances to them, now they had turned their attention to Elliot.

“Good God,” Richard remarked idly as he slipped round the cluster of ladies who had surrounded Elliot, pressing in around him until there was nowhere he could turn. “I’ve seen hunting dogs take down a fox with less ferocity. One might think they’d manage at least a little circumspection.”

“Honestly, I did not think it would be quite so bad as this,” Rebecca admitted. “But then, Elliot had fled town like the very hounds of hell were upon his heels—”

“I suppose, in some manner of speaking, they were,” Richard interjected dryly.

“—And he did not bother to give his response until yesterday, besides.” Rebecca gave a wry little shake of her head. “Perhaps, if he had bothered to tell me in advance, then I would have adjusted my guest list accordingly.” She set one hand upon Kate’s shoulder. “It has been more of a trial by fire than I expected,” she said. “But the good news is that the worst is done.”