Page 54 of The Subtle Craft of Courting Kate

“I think,” Mrs. Littlefield said slowly, speculatively, “that she has finally been afforded the chance to bloom. Because she was once a girl of thirteen who forced herself to grow into a woman of thirty overnight, managing more responsibilities than were hers alone to bear. And the dreams are still there, of course, even if they have gotten a little dusty, even if they have been misplaced. And I think—if there were anyone who could help her find them once again, it could only be you.”

“Truly?” he asked. Was that why she had so often taken advantage of Richard and Rebecca’s offers to chaperone Kate? To give her daughter a few privileged hours in which she did not have to be the dutiful daughter she had always been? To give Kate the opportunity to be only herself—and perhaps to give him the opportunity to court her?

“Oh, yes. Do you know, Lord Elliot, however little time Katie had to spare for frivolity, somehow she always made time for you.” She lifted her hand to give a small wave as Kate passed by in the steps of the dance.

“But you never said anything. Not even when I dragged the both of you to London.”

“What should I have said? One cannot reveal the nature of another’s heart for them; it must be discovered for oneself.” Mrs. Littlefield slanted him a kind smile. “And the truth of it is, I’m grateful to you for it. For—if nothing else—offering her a few weeks in London. For giving her what her father and I wished for her all those years ago. And for giving me this opportunity to see my little girl shining like I always knew she would.”

Yes. She did shine, in her gown of silver silk. Like a star, brilliant and perfect, as she wove through the paces of the dance. He could have picked her out of a crowd of hundreds. Thousands, even. “I thought London was my best chance,” he said sheepishly. “That perhaps outside of Northampton, beyond those ties to childhood, she might…notice me.”

Mrs. Littlefield laughed lightly, genuinely amused. “Oh, she has noticed,” she said. “More than once I’ve heard her grumbling to herself over that little notebook she carries with her.” Another light pat to his arm. “Be patient with her,” she advised. “All of those things she ought to have learned a dozen years ago—she is only just learning them now. She’s never wrestled with jealousy, nor given herself leave to love or to be loved. Her world has become ever so much larger than it was only weeks ago; of course she must flounder a bit before she finds her footing. But she has always been at her happiest in your company, and I think—I hope—she will come to that realization in her own good time.”

“Thank you,” Elliot murmured, blowing out a breath of pure relief. For the hope she had given to him; for the privilege of her blessing. “Kate has always been my dearest friend,” he said. “And even if—even if she can never love me, that will not change.”

“Dear boy,” Mrs. Littlefield said, and she reached up to give his cheek a pinch, in that same fond gesture he had known since childhood. “I was never in any doubt of that.”

∞∞∞

“I’m so sorry, Mama,” Kate said as she made it through the press of the crowd at last, reaching her mother’s side, carrying a glass of champagne. “The ribbon on my slipper tore while I was on my way to the refreshment table, and I was obliged to seek out the retiring room to repair it. I hope you weren’t worried.” Thank goodness she had had this set free; the wait for the retiring room had been so lengthy that she had heard the strains of the waltz begin before she had even entered it—and that was to say nothing of the time it had taken to fetch the refreshment Mama had requested thereafter.

“Of course not,” Mama said as she took the glass Kate offered. “Ought I to have been?”

No, certainly not. But Elliot had been, the last time she’d gone off on her own at a ball. Where had he gone off to, anyway? He had been waiting at the edge of the ballroom floor all evening with Mama, only now—now he had gone. “Elliot has not gone in search of me, has he?”

“Darling, of course not,” Mama said lightly. “You’d been gone only a few moments when the next set began. I’m certain he expected you to come straight back, but don’t concern yourself—I doubt he’s had the time to notice you were gone a bit longer than you ought to have been. See for yourself,” she added, with a little inclination of her head to the ballroom floor.

Kate turned, searching the crowd—and there, Elliot’s fair hair was visible across the room, in the midst of the waltz.

With Amelia Applegate.

Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest at the sight. One she would have to accustom herself to, she supposed—or a version of it at least. Because at the end of the Season, she would be on her way back to Northampton, back to her quiet life with her sheep, and Elliot would marry Miss Applegate. She might never have to see them waltz again, but Elliot—Elliot would purchase that land from his brother and build his wife the most perfect home. One that could catch every lovely sunset from its front door.

It shouldn’t have surprised her so to see them together in a waltz. After all, he had asked for her help with exactly this. And she—she had led him straight to his perfect match, found the woman who would share his home, his life…his heart. She had encouraged him to pursue Miss Applegate.

But it hurt to watch them waltzing, because she had only ever waltzed with him, and it had felt…special, somehow. Something that had been only for the two of them, only now—only now—

She didn’t want him to marry Miss Applegate.

Kate choked down the strange little sob that bubbled up in her throat, grateful that she had not taken a glass of champagne for herself, for with the sudden spasm of her fingers she certainly would have dropped it and caused a dreadful scene.

What a dreadful realization to come to now. Here. In the midst of a crowded ballroom.

“Kate, darling. Are you unwell?” Mama’s warm hand touched her shoulder. Her voice was pitched low, laden with concern.

Kate sucked in a harsh breath through her teeth, forced herself to straighten the shoulders that had slumped beneath the weight that had crashed down upon them. “Only a bit tired.” She had not sounded particularly convincing, even to herself.

Mama offered a sympathetic smile. “I understand entirely. Were we at home, I would have retired an hour ago at least.” A slow, regretful shake of her head. “I simply cannot endure more than a few late nights per week without suffering the consequences. If it were not for Lord and Lady Crewe’s willingness to chaperone you when I cannot, you might have had a dismal time in London. But I am so very glad for this opportunity to see you dance.”

“Mama, you’ve seen me dance before.”

“Yes, but not like this. Not in a proper gown, in a proper ballroom.” Mama gave a soft sigh, as if every last one of her dreams had come true. “I should like to see you waltz, just once.”

Kate swallowed hard. “There’s only two left this evening,” she said, and her eyes sought out Elliot and Miss Applegate once more on the ballroom floor, where they swept so smoothly through the steps that they appeared to be floating. Where they looked so bloody perfect together, as if they had been fashioned for one another. And her heart just ached with it. She swiped her tongue across lips that had gone dry as a desert, “But I’m still something less than proficient. I’d be mortified if I stepped on anyone’s toes.”

“I’m certain Lord Elliot wouldn’t mind,” Mama said with casual confidence. And then, “Ah, it seems the set is at an end. Would you mind terribly, darling, if I were to leave you for a few moments to find the retiring room? Your reputation is safe enough in such a crush, I imagine.”

“I’ll be just fine, Mama.” Kate resisted the urge to point out that no one much cared for her reputation, anyway. She had come to London as no one, and she would leave it just the same.